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Chapter 3
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2022-11-05 05:26:03By the time Ashton wanders into the kitchen after his shower, I’ve already set my plan into motion. I’ve got a club playlist pumping through the speakers, and I’m swaying my hips in time with the beat. I’ve changed into a low-cut white tank top and cutoff jean shorts—what I normally wear when painting—so they’re worn, tight, and splattered with streaks of color. The tank is soaked down the front, making it practically see-through.
You wanna play, Ashton?
Game fucking on.
I hear him stop in the doorway. There's a sharp inhale as he takes me in.
I add a little more sway to my hips, singing along to the music like I have no idea he's watching.
As I put the dishes away, I run my hands slowly over my body, pretending to wipe water from my clothes—trailing from my stomach down to my hips. I keep dancing, letting the rhythm take over, fingers tangling in my hair as I pull the tie loose, letting it fall around my shoulders. I run my hands through it, over my body, into the air, completely in sync with the beat.
Then I feel him—his heat, his presence—right behind me.
I pause for a moment, glancing over my shoulder with a slow, sly smile. He’s standing there, eyes locked on me, a storm of emotions flickering across his face.
“What are you doing, Sam?” he asks, voice low and husky in my ear.
I press back into him, our bodies connecting—my back to his front, my ass grinding lightly against his crotch as I continue to sway.
He doesn’t move at first. His body is tense against mine. For a second, I wonder if I pushed too far. But then his fingers brush down my arm, a feather-light touch from shoulder to fingertips. He takes my hand and spins me around, pulling me to face him.
His eyes trail down my body, pausing at my chest—the soaked fabric clinging to every curve.
“Dance with me.”
I nod and step into him. My arms loop around his neck, his settle at my hips. Our bodies move as one, perfectly synced. One of my legs slips between his, and he pulls me tighter. He leans in until our foreheads touch, and we hold each other’s gaze as we move.
I roll my hips and he lets out a low groan, biting his bottom lip.
The sight makes my mouth go dry. I lick my lips without thinking.
His fingers dig into my hips, and his face lowers to mine. One hand cups the back of my head, and his lips trace along my jaw, up to my ear.
“What are you doing, Sam?” he whispers again, slower this time. Rougher.
I swallow hard, opening my mouth to answer—when the music cuts off and my alarm goes off.
I blink and slowly pull away, my gaze locked on his.
I turn to head for the oven, but his hands stay firm on my hips.
I glance back at him, arching an eyebrow. “What?”
His eyes blaze, his jaw tight. For a second, I think he’s going to drag me back into him and kiss the hell out of me.
Instead, he exhales sharply and steps away.
He moves to the counter, back turned, voice suddenly distant.
I grab the oven mitts, hiding my smile.
Point for me.
I set the lasagna on the table and take a seat across from Ashton. He avoids eye contact as he pours the wine, and I do my best not to smirk.
I serve the food, and we eat in silence for a few minutes. I refuse to be the one to speak first.
“So… was that payback?” he finally asks, eyes on me now, his face unreadable. “For the shower thing?”
I grin. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He stares at me for a second. Then he bursts out laughing—deep, genuine laughter that fills the kitchen. I just smile and keep eating.
When he finally settles down, he takes another bite and says, “Alright. I deserved that. But just so you know—payback’s a bitch.”
“Bring it, James. You’ve barely begun to see what I can do.”
His eyes darken, and his tongue drags across his bottom lip.
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Love in the Time of Quarantine Author's Note
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Love in the Time of Quarantine Chapter 28: Andie
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Love in the Time of Quarantine Chapter 27: Jorge
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