Oxfordshire—this is what we want.’ She clutched Jack’s hand, some freaky silent communication passing between them. ‘We’ll celebrate with extended families separately.’
Ash could understand. There was no way their father and Jack’s parents could attend the same event, not after they’d recently discovered the reason for the long rift between the former friends was another historic affair between Hal and Jack’s mother. What a selfish bastard his father had turned out to be. He’d always known he was arrogant and uncompromising, but he hadn’t realised he was such a shitty human being. Once a cheater, always a cheater.
Surely these were all perfect reasons for Harley and Jack to employ caution. To get to know each other better. To allow their relationship to stand the test of time before marriage. Why the hell did they have to marry at all? Why not just live together?
It warmed him that Harley, who’d struggled growing up because of her dyslexia, was happy. But could he stand to watch her go through the devastation a wrong choice now would bring? Jack seemed crazy about her, but you never really knew what lurked inside someone. Everyone had their ugliness.
As Harley turned to Ben and Essie, including them in the invitation to Oxfordshire, Ash battled his helplessness. It seemed, unless he could talk her out of this, he’d have a ringside seat. The least he could do was offer her some legal advice for when the shit splattered through the blades of the fan.
ASH TOYED WITH the ends of her hair, which still clung to his damp chest and the day’s worth of stubble on his chin. Even at three a.m., after two rounds of opening-night celebratory sex, the oblivion of sleep evaded him.
Essie’s head grew heavy. Had she succumbed to exhaustion? Should he slide out from under her and pound out the continued restlessness in the gym?
‘Just tell me, Ash.’ Her sleepy voice whispered over his skin, a soft caress that offered both release and a rising of his hackles. His body stilled but she stayed immobile and he was pinned beneath her sprawled, languid body.
‘The problem shared, problem halved thing is true, you know.’ She lifted her head and levelled warm, compassionate eyes on him. ‘I won’t judge you. I won’t even comment. I’ll just listen.’ She settled her head back on his chest, but not before she brushed her lips over his skin with a small sigh.
Seconds stretched while he balanced on the edge, wishing he could be as brave and open as she was.
He could deny he had anything to confess.
He could huff and puff his way out of it.
He could even feign sleep.
But he wouldn’t insult her intelligence.
With a sigh that lifted and then dropped her head, he drew his fingers back through her hair. The silky slide of the strands carried a hypnotic cadence he craved. Or perhaps it was just Essie.
‘I think she’s rushing into marriage.’
Coward.
True to her word, Essie remained quiet. Only her heartbeat, steady but fast enough, beating against his, indicated she was still awake.
‘I’ve made no secret how I feel about it.’
She nodded, the slide of her skin and hair over his chest a soothing kind of torture, because it drew him out, a security blanket, lulling him to deeper confessions, ones at his very centre.
‘You’re probably thinking I have a right to feel the way I do. I told you about my fiancée, my parents splitting recently, my insider knowledge of the divorce courts from law school.’
He was making a meal of this. Was it better to say the words outright, to rip off the bandage with a vicious tear, that would bleed him out quicker, but shorten the sting? Or keep them in and protect himself.
‘I discovered my father had cheated. More than the affair my mother knew about.’ Essie stopped breathing and her pulse thrummed against his skin. ‘I was the one who had to deliver that news. I didn’t want her to hear it from someone who didn’t care about her.’
Her head lifted, tugging her hair from between his fingers, her face wreathed in understanding.
‘That must have been horrible for you.’ She sat up, crossing her legs and drawing the duvet into her lap to cover her nakedness. ‘How did you find out?’
Ash nodded, the urge to flee the room and the shameful scrutiny strong. If he’d detected one hint of pity in her expression he’d already have hit the shower, but Essie’s brow pinched in confusion.
‘From the horse’s mouth—my father told me. We’d...had a disagreement. He didn’t like the way I’d dared to call him out on his bullshit so he lashed out, like he derived pleasure from inflicting the knowledge on me. The coward knew I’d tell her.’
He linked his hands behind his head as he shrugged it off.
‘Some people are cowards. I understand your fears for Harley.’
‘I just worry that she’ll be hurt. As it is, she’s marrying without her father present and our mother...’ He sucked in a breath, and rose to sit on the side of the bed. ‘She didn’t know about that particular affair until I informed her.’
He swallowed bile. ‘It turned out to be the last straw for her.’ He stood and made his way to the door of the en-suite. ‘So, you understand my trepidation about this...happy occasion?’
Essie’s teeth worried at her lip, her eyes scraping him raw.
Tell her. Tell her everything.
He backed away. She had the sense to give him space.
He stepped under the steamy blast of the shower, welcoming the pound of the water as a replacement for the waves of self-directed emotion. He was a coward, too. Holding back, convincing himself he was happy. That he was justified in his mistrust.
And he still carried the full burden of guilt and self-loathing, not the half measure Essie had promised.
She joined him, as he’d known she would. She’d kept her promise, but offered silent comfort, just by her presence. Her touch, tentative at first, as if she was uncertain of her reception, grew bolder. She reached for the body wash and tipped a measure into her palm before sliding soap-slicked palms over his chest, abdomen and shoulders. When she moved behind him to soap his back, she pressed her mouth between his shoulder blades.
‘I’m sorry that happened to you. Do you want me to go home?’
He turned to face her, scooping his arm around her waist and hauling her up so his mouth covered hers. ‘No.’
Within seconds their lazy kisses grew torrid. Her slippery skin slid against his as she writhed and moaned in his arms, her hands clutching at him. Her fingers twisted in his wet hair and she angled his head and twisted her mouth away. ‘I want you.’
He’d recovered sufficiently to be fully on board. Slamming off the water, he scooped Essie
