Heart of Stone (Rock Star Fairy Tales #1)

Chapter 22

C h apte r 22

New Uses for an Old Bed

A sh Stonewall was an amazing kisser, but Margot had expected that. He wouldn’t have a devoted following of women hoping for another chance if he wasn’t. Still, the touch of his mouth on hers, finally, stole her breath and curled her toes in all the b est ways.

“Margot,” he moaned against her mouth when they paused. “Where did you learn to kiss l ike that?”

“I told you I’m not a virgin,” she told him, hand curling in his hair and jerking his mouth back down to hers.

He broke the kiss, mouth moving as if to ask the question, “Who?” but she stopped him. “You want to talk about other people right now, Ash?”

“No,” he agreed, leaning back in to kiss her. She was surprised by his strength when he moved beneath her, easily climbing to his feet as she wrapped her legs around his waist. He glanced around the small bus, clearly trying to figure out where to put her. “Go,” he said, head moving from side to side as he considered the options; small fridge and tiny counter on his right where the door was, her bunk bed and the bathroom to his left, the small counter that served as her desk and storage area splitting the space below. He even turned around, glancing down at where her chair swiveled in the floor and over to the reversed passenger seat. “Where do you brin g people?”

“Not here,” she admitted. “I go to the ir place.”

He raised an eyebrow, a challenge in his voice. “You’ve never brought anyone back to your trailer?”

“Not since high school,” she told him, and his eyes narrowed.

“Who were you fooling around with in high school?” he demanded. At her raised eyebrow, he broke off, shaking his head. “Nevermind.” He glanced at the door, then shook his head. “It’s too damn cold outside.”

“You can’t keep us warm?” sh e teased.

“I could,” he said, “but I don’t want to be distracted by anything else r ight now.”

“Oh, so making fireballs is not something you can do on autopilot?” she asked, laughing as he spun and rested her upper back against the side rail o f her bed.

“It does require a tiny amount of concentration,” he said, bracing his hips ben eath her.

Margot ran her hands through his hair, hooking her feet at the ankles and relaxing into his hold. “Then don’t,” she said. “I want all of your concentration tonight.”

She kissed him again, loving the free dom of it.

“Are you sure?” he asked her, eyes dark and wide as the words caressed her lips. “You want me?”

“I’ve always wanted you, Ash,” she ass ured him.

“But I can’t—”

“I know,” she said quickly. “No more about that.” She caught his mouth again, hungry, hands sliding deep into his hair and around his back, greedy fingers starting to slide his shirt up. “We can have this,” she insisted. “J ust this.”

“Just this,” he agreed, then leaned back and, balancing her against the bed, grabbed the collar of his shirt, tugging it over his head. His skin was warm and tan, his arms covered in tattoos of dragons inked in red and black and a swirl of fire. She traced the lines, studying the art close up in a way she never ha d before.

“Why dragons?” she asked suddenly.

“What?” he asked, leaning over to tug on her shirt. Margot leaned back, giving him access, and sat forward as the shirt slid up her back.

“Dragons,” she repeated. “Why not some other mythical creature? I hear centaurs are pretty hot right now. Or even fae…”

He paused, peering down at her, leaving her shirt where it was bunched up under her breasts. “Margot,” he said sternly, “centaurs are not h ot. Ever.”

She laughed, wondering what centaur stories he could tell her, but she was recalling something else Tobin had said about Ash’s mother, about dragons, about Denham Island in particular. “Dragons,” she said again, the lust haze fading for a moment. “Ash, are you—?”

He didn’t let her finish, lifting her up and sliding her onto her bed, her back secure on the mattress while he held her lower body in space. “See, this I can work with,” he said, then grabbed her waist, fingers catching the edge of her yoga pants. He slid them down slowly, deliberately, pausing to rest each foot on his shoulder as he tugged them free of her legs. Margot leaned up on her elbows, the high ceiling of the bus giving her enough room to maneuver, then looked down her half-naked bod y at him.

She narrowed her eyes as he tossed her pants aside and stepped closer, her knees bending over his shoulders. “This seems like avoiding the question, Ash—” she began, emphasizing his fiery name, but he stopped her words with a long kiss, fingers working magic in ways that had her squirming immediately. “That’s cheating,” she moaned, gripping the edge of the bed as he chuckled, his movements growing more determined. When she was close, he lifted his face, fingers still moving, and grinned up at her. “You want me to stop?” he asked.

“No,” sh e moaned.

“You don’t want your answers?” he pressed, leaning down to kiss her again. She shuddered, his guitarist’s fingers strumming every note in her body.

“I—” she managed, but he was between her legs again, and all coherent thought fragmented into a wave of pleasure that buried her be neath it.

When Margot returned to herself, she opened one eye to look down at where Ash still stood between her thighs. “I—” she started, then tried again. “I can’t believe I never thought to use this bed l ike this.”

Ash grinned at her, raising an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t bring anyone back here,” he reminded her, hands slowly beginning to move again. “Now who has secrets?”

“Secrets are fine,” she allowed, closing her eyes again as the pleasure built. She managed to open her eyes and look down at him. “But no lies,” she demanded, shudderi ng again.

“No lies,” he agreed, his breath warm on her sensitive skin. Her leg jerked, a muscle spasm catching her off guard, and she stretched her body, releasing tight muscles.

“I have to move,” she told him. Up on her elbows, she considered. “You coming up here or am I coming do wn there?”

“I always wondered how much room you had up there,” he said, helping her slide fully onto the bed and twist so she was laying in the right direction. He hopped up after her, shoulders hunched as his feet hit the wall of the bathroom and his head nearly hit the wall of her small closet at the head of the bed. “Hmm,” he considered. “I don’t know about this. My bunk is muc h bigger.”

“The rock star can’t figure it out?” she teased. “Let me help you think it over.” She reached down to find the waist of his pants and began working the button and zipper. The jeans let go immediately, and she reached inside, happy to find only Ash. “Of course,” she sighed. “You would be perfect in ev ery way.”

They spent the next few minutes giggling as they twisted on the small bed, Margot finally freeing Ash of his pants and getting him to lay on his back. They tossed her pillow to the floor and discovered if Ash reclined with his head a few inches from the wall, he could lay flat with his feet reaching the wall on the far side. “Margot,” he said, eyes half-lidded as she touched his body, “you really need a bi gger bed.”

“Why?” she asked. “It’s normally just me in here.” She playfully smacked his hip, her other hand working slowly up and down.

“It’s a bit … cramped.”

“You want to leave?” she prompted, leaning down to take him in her mouth. He groaned, eyes closed as he bit his lip. Margot smiled, returning to her task with renew ed vigor.

“Fuck!” he yelled a few minutes later, grabbing her head to keep her steady. “You need to s top that—”

“Or what?” she goaded, her breath misting his wet skin. He s huddered.

“Or I’m going to have to do this,” he said, pushing her up the bed and onto her back as he flipped over onto his knees. His elbow hit the ceiling, and he cursed, but then situated himself between her legs, hands on either side of her waist. He looked down at her tenderly and kissed her, pressing his body close to hers. Margot wrapped her legs around his hips, loving the contradictions of hard muscle and soft skin against her body. When he finally pushed into her, she groaned, biting his lip as the passion built between them, the heat of their skin scorching as he moved. They held one another close, making love with sweet words and muffled curses as they shifted and bumped into walls. The attraction that pulled them together finally realized, Margot lost herself in his arms, his mouth, his body, and Ash seemed to savor each gasp, every groan, memorizing the lines of her body.

Hours later, he lay on his back again, Margot tucked neatly under his arm as the faint light of the morning sun slipped into the bus. His hand was idly tracing symbols on her bare back, and she shifted, adjusting so she rested her chin on her hands as she looked u p at him.

“Ash,” she said, mind clear and full of questions again, “what does the symbol on my b ack mean?”