For Better or Hearse

Chapter Eighteen

I f only he still wanted to push Ash into a volcano.

Or a crevasse. Or a crack.

It would be so much easier.

Time of day. It’s what he’s not getting from her right now. It’s only been twelve hours since the kiss, and during every activity they’ve participated in, Ash has treated him like a pariah.

Skipping breakfast, sitting at the far back of the van. Even now, on the quarter-mile hike to the waterfall, she lags behind, walking with Augustus. She’s like a ping-pong ball bouncing farther and farther away from him the closer he gets.

Amazingly, befuddlingly, she’s gone from the woman he wanted to scrape from his memory to the woman he can’t stop thinking about.

Her distance puts him on edge.

It’s unfair how much he misses her presence. He didn’t realize how bored he’d be on this trip without her.

And after last night, he’s had a deeper glimpse—a literal taste—of Ash Keller, and he likes it.

Too much.

The trail to the waterfall is steep and rocky but not nearly as treacherous as Oahu. His brother and sister bicker in low tones behind him, trying to hike while searching for cell service.

He glances over his shoulder.

Augustus and Ash follow the pack. She’s in her boots. Untied, of course. The strap of her yellow bikini pokes out of her tank top. Shimmering sunlight catches the tattoos on her legs, flashes of color in the dense, balmy jungle. Even from a distance, the splash and crash of the waterfall can be heard somewhere up ahead .

Jesus. That bikini, that thigh tattoo haunt him. In the best possible way.

“I don’t like that girl,” his mother says, marching beside him.

Nathaniel’s gut pulls tight. “She’s here,” he says with a shrug. “She’s doing more than most of us for Grandpops.”

“I just…” His mother regards him, eyes sad. She places a hand on his forearm. “After what she did to you.”

Of course his mother wouldn’t see how bad he and Camellia were for each other. Not after being married to his father and putting up with his bullshit for so long. Even now, his father’s not here. His mother would never say she’s upset with his father for bailing for the third time on this trip, but Nathaniel sees it in her eyes, her posture.

Behind them, there’s a bright burst of laughter from Ash. The husky sound of her voice sends a jolt of electricity to his cock.

Christ. Suddenly, he’s hit with a desperate need for her to look at him. For her to pay him any attention at all.

Truth is, it’s getting harder to pretend that he has it out for Ash Keller.

Unable to stand it any longer, Nathaniel falls behind his mother to join Ash and Augustus.

“I hear you’re in need of some better company,” he says, linking arms with his grandfather.

Augustus chuckles.

Ash rolls her eyes. “Your grandson is truly a terror,” she snipes, holding on tight to Augustus’s other arm.

Nathaniel arches a brow. “Says the girl who scares little children.”

Briefly, her gaze flicks to his.

There it is. That glimmer of a smile. Or annoyance. Either way, he’ll take it.

“I was just telling Ash,” Augustus says, “all about that money clip I got from Carlo.”

Nathaniel chuckles. His grandfather is notorious for his tall tales. “You expect me to believe that? All these years, and I’ve never once seen it around your house.”

“Ah, but it’s a legend.”

Ash shakes her head. “I feel like I’m getting hazed by this family.”

He skims his eyes over her, noting the Band-Aid over her sensor. His stomach pulls tight. “What happened to your sensor?”

Ash tsks. “So nosy.” Then she says to him, “The water always makes it come loose. But I patched it with my very best MacGyver skills.”

Nathaniel considers it. “We could fix that.” His mind’s already on it. Pathetic.

Ash looks curiously at Nathaniel over the top of Augustus’s head. Instead of the tense awkwardness he’s braced himself for, an intimacy hangs in the space between them. Calm. Warm. Tentative. Like Ash’s body last night. That slow curl into him, hands on his shoulders, that red mouth landing on his lips like a bomb.

He doesn’t know what it means. All he knows is he has to talk to her.

Alone.

When the trail ends and they funnel out onto the beach, Ash gasps. Stretched out in front of them is a massive rock wall where a large waterfall crashes into the swimming hole below. Farther back, calm, crystal-clear turquoise waters lead into numerous lagoons and shallow enclaves. A line of large rocks borders the shore edge. The beach is sparsely populated, an “intimate gem,” their guide claims.

“Now this,” Augustus says, “is what it’s all about.”

Claire, her face soft, wraps an arm around his shoulders. “Oh, Dad.”

The group spreads out. Doing that awkward family thing that looks like togetherness while they actually ignore each other until it’s over.

Book in his hands, Augustus sits on a boulder in the sun. Tate sits beside him, grudgingly laying his phone down .

When Nathaniel glances over, he catches Ash’s eye. She gives him a slight smile. God help him. The warmth that pours through him is shameful.

“Tarot?” Delaney singsongs, bouncing beside Ash and waving her deck.

“No,” Nathaniel and his mother say in unison.

“What’s so bad about Delaney’s tarot?” Ash asks him.

“We’ve all avoided it since the time she pulled the death card for Don, and two days later, he had to close his Costa Mesa practice.”

Claire shakes her head. “It was very ill-advised.”

“The universe did 90 percent of the work,” Delaney argues.

Ash laughs.

With a shake of his head, Nathaniel tugs his shirt off and tosses it onto his pack. As he strides by Ash, he says, “You going to swim or crisp in the sun?”

She scoffs. The flash of mischief in her eyes makes his dick twitch. “Again with the competition. If you’re so worried, I’ll show you up, just say it.”

He leans in. Notes the shiver that goes through her. “Had to find some way to get you speaking to me again, Bigfoot.”

Lips curving in a smile, she lifts a creamy white shoulder. “Hasn’t been that long.”

Twelve hours and two minutes. That’s what he wants to say, but he doesn’t.

Jesus.

When did it get like this?

She’s driving him wild, and she’s completely oblivious. Or maybe she isn’t. Maybe she just loves torturing him.

Speaking of torture…

Ash strips out of her tank top, shimmies out of her shorts, in one quick motion. And there it is. Her yellow bikini shines bright. The beacon of his ever-constant erection.

“Fuck,” he mutters. Heart pounding, he tears his gaze away from her perfect breasts. Only it doesn’t get far. It gets caught on her perky ass as she struts away from him. Slender curves and creamy white flesh.

He stares, entranced.

Ash hops on a rock that juts over a lagoon. Eyes closed, she kicks out a leg like she’s testing the temperature of the sunlight.

His breathing grows shallow. She’s so damn beautiful. With her bright red lips and long black hair that curls down her back, she looks like wilderness. Like chaos.

Ash should come with a disclaimer. Catlike and beautiful, with random acts of violence. And still, all he wants to do is get close. Experience her light.

Backing up on the rock, she gets into a comical running position.

“Careful,” he calls out as he’s hit with a jolt of concern.

Those gray-green eyes slice to him.

“It might not be deep e—”

Holding up her middle finger, she runs.

Jumps.

The splash echoes around the rock wall.

Gritting his teeth, he tears a hand through his hair. Waits. Fucking reckless woman.

Seconds later, she sputters to the surface. Hair plastered to her face, she shakes her head like a wet dog. She’s smiling. “Fuck. It is fucking cold!”

He almost smiles, but he holds tight to his grin so she can’t see it.

For some reason, he’s glad. That she likes the water.

Keeping her in his sight, he walks down to the beach. “And I thought I liked danger.”

She snorts. “Admit it. You were secretly hoping I cracked open my skull.”

“No place to bury the body,” he says, wading into the water. “How would that look? ”

Ash hoots. “I demand a beach run.” Her eyes drift over him with heated appreciation. A rush of pleasure hits him. Ash liking his body does more for his ego than he’ll ever admit.

Arms arcing, he swims toward her.

“Look at that,” she drawls. “No emotion. No scream. Just a robot-like propensity for cold.” Ash bobs up and down, goading him as he gets deeper.

The outlines of her nipples are visible through the thin fabric of her bikini top.

Fuck. He’s done.

Ash floats backward, arms slicing the water. “This is good for him.” She casts a sideways glance at Augustus.

Beside him, Tate is crouched on a rock, gesticulating furiously. Adjusting his glasses, Augustus leans in, gives his grandson his familiar, patient smile.

“I think so too.” Nathaniel sighs. “Even if Tate is forcing him to listen to his podcast.”

Ash laughs. Water pebbles her face, one bead balancing precariously on her full bottom lip. The urge to lick it away surges through him like a wildfire.

She twists away from him. He follows.

Silently, they swim through the turquoise water until they’re in a cove shielded by tall rock walls.

“Wow,” Ash says as she takes in the cove. She stands, her upper torso rising above the water. Water sluices over her perky breasts.

Nathaniel tries not to stare. Fails miserably.

“This place is like a sitting duck for a maniac.”

A smile tickles his lips. “Always the macabre on your mind.”

Those gray-green eyes glimmer. “Don’t knock it ’til you’ve tried it.”

“You want to play?” he asks. “Truth/lie?”

Her gaze narrows in suspicion. “Is this your cheat code to getting me to like you?”

“You already like me. ”

She splashes him. “So cocky.”

His feet touch the bottom of the lagoon. Sand and seaweed. “Okay, Bigfoot. If you could be a cryptid, which one would you choose?”

Her eyes light up. He’s piqued her interest. For some reason, it makes him happy to see that she’s happy.

“Banshee,” he asks, “or a fury?”

A burst of laughter escapes her mouth. “I’m sorry, excuse me? You did research. On cryptids ?” Smiling, she swims toward him.

His ears flame. He did. Last night at the bar before she joined him, he couldn’t resist googling the term.

She schools her expression into one of faux seriousness, mouth fixed in a straight line, brow slightly furrowed. “You better take that to the grave, Doctor Whitford.”

“I’ll be sure to delete my search history,” he says dryly.

“Since you’re asking…” She searches his face, and he resists the urge to call the game off. Like she’s seeing too much of him.

“Neither,” she says. “I would choose to be Jenny Greenteeth. A monster swamp hag who lives in a bog. If anyone gets too close, I drown them.” Her lips curl. “Then eat them.”

He chokes on a laugh. “That can’t be a real thing.”

“Oh, I regret to inform you, it is very real. And it will terrify you.” Expression wondering, she tilts her head. “What about you?”

He shifts, uncomfortable. Again, with her searching eyes, her earnest questions.

He offers a shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe a Wendigo.”

“No way.” She runs her hand along his jaw. The touch of her silk, fire. “I think you’d be Mothman. You act big and scary, but really, you’re just misunderstood. You’re kind and sweet when you want to be.”

When she drops her hand, Nathaniel abandons his fight to stay restrained. He captures her slim wrist. Pulls her toward him. “Is that what you think of me?”

Her teeth sink into her full bottom lip for a second. “I think so,” she admits. “I think a lot of things I thought about you were wrong.”

“Here’s another truth,” he says, running his fingers over the thin, delicate skin on the inside of her wrist. The pulse that beats there. “I can’t stop thinking about that kiss.”

Usually, he wouldn’t try so hard. Be so goddamn desperate. But he can’t help it. This woman is keeping him afloat on this trip. Keeping him sane. Alive.

She bites her lip, looking suddenly shy and soft. Immediately, he’s snared by the contradictions that are Ash Keller. Her girlish flushed cheeks alongside the sharp, dark cat eye. Her quirky love for cryptids balanced by her love for his grandfather.

Now that he’s unlocked a little bit of her, he wants more. A hell of a lot more.

Hesitating, she sinks her teeth into her lower lip.

“You do that a lot,” Nathaniel says. “Bite your lip when you’re nervous.”

A cool brow arched. “You notice when I’m nervous?”

The words roll off his tongue before he can stop them. “I notice everything about you.”

Her kohl-lined eyes widen. The tantalizing flush on her face ruins him. That’s what finally does it. He’s officially lost the battle he’s been fighting for the last few days. “I liked our kiss.”

At his honesty, the wariness in her eyes turns to consideration.

“I liked the kiss too.” She ducks her dark head. But rather than swim away from him, like he expects, she drifts toward him.

“So what do we do about it?” His voice is hoarse.

“What if we…kissed sometimes?” Ash suggests. Sunlight falls across her face, highlights the hazy need in her eyes as she seems to battle some internal struggle. “No big deal, right? No big…commitment?”

He nods, suddenly dry-mouthed. “Right.”

“A truth just between us,” she whispers. “No one else knows. Not even Augustus. ”

His hopeful heart hammers. “You want to do this?”

They stare at each other, heated, searching. For a long second, the only sound is the lap of water against the rock walls. The splash of the waterfall outside the cave.

And then, her expression turning determined, Ash simply says, “Yes.”

That’s all it takes.

He yanks her against him. Ready for it, Ash loops her legs around his waist. She’s soft and lush against the hardness of his chest. Heat spiraling through his ribs, he lowers his lips to hers. Christ, he loves the way she tastes. Soft and salty and sweet.

She runs her hands through his hair. Whimpers into his mouth. The sexiest, neediest sound he’s ever heard.

He palms the curve of her hip. Tangles the tie of her bikini bottom around his fingers. Pressing her tighter against him, he grips her ass, lifting her higher.

She opens for him, legs spreading wide. “Yes,” she gasps, the word only for him. “Yes, yes.”

Reading her loud and clear, he teases the edge of her bikini bottoms and nudges them aside to slip a finger into her. That tight, perfect pussy.

Ash moans.

Two fingers now. He pushes them forcefully into her slickness. On a gasp, her eyes fall shut. Her lashes flutter. She arches in his arms, riding his hand. The heat of her, the hard clamp of her muscles, turns his dick to steel.

“What if someone sees us?” she gasps.

“I’m beyond caring, Ash,” he says roughly, his heart thundering. He’s enjoying this too fucking much to care if anyone sees them. To care if he even gets his turn. He wants her to have this. Wants to make her come hard and fast, and he wants to drink in the expression on her gorgeous face.

He adds to the pressure, adjusts the tempo. Swift now.

As she rocks against him in a silent plea for more, he kisses her. Senseless. Endless. He can’t be satiated. He’s coming undone. Utterly whipped and ruined.

On a growl, she snares his bottom lip with her teeth, tugging savagely.

“Fuck,” he grits out, liking her violence. His pulse spikes.

She shakes against him, uneven breaths falling from her lips. Her pupils are big, black and desirous.

He sweeps his mouth against her ear. “So fucking wet,” he whispers. “So fucking beautiful.”

An aching groan tears from her lips.

Nathaniel’s breathing turns strangled. He strokes his fingers over her clit. Faster now. Savoring.

Ash moans at the same moment he does. Panting, she comes. The hard tremble of her body brings a smile to Nathaniel’s lips. A rush of satisfaction to his blood. She’s beautiful. Fierce face flushed, she continues to moan and rock against him. He slows the pressure on her swollen clit until she goes limp in his arms.

She buries her face in his neck. Saws in breath after breath. He holds her tight. Not wanting her to swim away just yet. When she lifts her face, he smooths away that cloud of dark hair, skims a thumb over the delicate arch of her cheekbone. “Ash.”

There’s satisfaction in her eyes. She scrapes her hands down the wall of his chest, flashes of black nails and red lips.

“That was…kinda fucking everything,” she murmurs. He swears to God she’s purring.

“Yeah,” he says, unable to tear his eyes from her face. From the red lipstick that still stains her lips. “It really fucking was.”

Framing his face in her hands, she kisses him fiercely.

In response, he wraps his fist in all that black hair. A fire erupts within him. Fuck. It’s just as good as he expected. She kisses like a monster. Hungry and electric and savage.

Ash dips a finger into the waistband of his board shorts, pulling an unholy moan from deep within him. Her fingers skim the length of his cock. The heavy erection he’s sporting begs for relief. Begs for—

“Nathaniel!” Claire calls from the beach, voice panicked.

Ash tears away from him.

“Nathaniel, we need some help here!”

Wide-eyed, Ash jumps out of his arms. “Shit. Augustus.”

Heart racing, he tries to get his bearings, calm his erection.

They both splash through the water, swimming fast through the cove.

“Your dick,” Ash hisses as they come into sight of his family. His eyes drop to the bulge in his shorts. She smirks. “Your dick, asshole.”

Fuck. As they rush onto shore, Nathaniel snags a towel and wraps it around his waist.

He scans the scene waiting for him. Tate sits on a towel, his foot bloodied and cut up. Delaney, Augustus and his mother stand over him.

“What happened?” he barks.

Delaney rolls her eyes. “Tate tried to jump off the waterfall. Instead, he slipped and cut his foot.”

“It’s called doing a sweet jackknife,” Tate says with a scowl at Delaney. “But apparently, we all have our limitations.”

“You idiot,” Nathaniel rasps, winded from the swim. From the absolute sucker punch of Ash’s kiss. Dropping into a crouch, he glares at his little brother. Then he turns his attention to the cut on Tate’s foot. It’s shallow, but it could get infected if he doesn’t handle it.

“Bright side,” Ash says to Tate as she sinks into a squat beside Nathaniel. “It won’t affect your podcast.”

Tate laughs, but when Nathaniel twists his foot, the sound morphs into a groan.

“No,” Nathaniel says dryly. “Just your ability to walk for the rest of the trip. ”

“Here,” Ash says, handing him the first-aid kit she must have fished out of his pack.

Gratefulness rises inside him. That she’s here. That she’s helping.

“Thanks,” he says.

Ash looks up at him from beneath thick, fringed lashes. Barefaced, beautiful. Goose bumps dot her bare skin. She’s shivering.

Frowning, he removes the towel from around his waist.

“Get warm,” he tells her. He drapes the towel around her shoulders, making sure she’s covered, and then unzips his kit. “I got this.”

He turns to the task at hand. All traces of earlier levity, of him and Ash, gone.

Already, he wants her back.