Chapter 4

Conversation over dinner shifts to my year at school and the advertising companies Ashton is interviewing with.

“So are you planning on staying here in New York?” I ask, taking a sip of wine.

“If the job requires it. Most of these places have a short internship period here before it’s possible to transfer to other branches. All four companies I’m interviewing with have locations in Ohio, so I could go back home.” His eyes flick to mine. “If New York doesn’t work for me.”

Genuinely curious, I ask, “What do you mean?”

He hesitates, then shrugs. “Oh, you know. If I don’t adjust to city life.”

I laugh. “Come on, Ashton. What’s not to love about the city? You can walk everywhere. The variety—food, experiences, people—all in one square block. That’s more than our entire hometown has in ten miles. Concerts, galleries, clubs, fashion, restaurants… New York’s got it all.” I stretch my arms wide to emphasize it.

He grins. “You really love it here, don’t you?”

“Of course!” I beam, stabbing another bite of lasagna.

“It suits you. Think you could show me around if I get the job?”

“When you get the job, I might be able to pencil you into my busy schedule.”

He laughs, full and bright. I grin and continue. “Do you have a favorite company?”

“Not really. I’m just here for the experience and training. It’s my first year out of college—I’m not expecting to land my forever job. The salaries are comparable, and each company has its pros and cons. I’ll see who offers me something and go from there.”

“A bit laissez-faire, huh?” I shudder dramatically. “I’d be freaking out.”

“Says the girl who chose the glamorous life of a starving artist,” he teases, chuckling.

“For your information, Mr. Bohemian, I’m double majoring in art and graphic design. Selling my paintings is the dream, but I know that takes time. If neither pans out, I’ve got my internship at the Met in the restoration department.”

I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling as I take another bite.

“Seriously? A backup plan for your backup plan?” He stares at me, incredulous, still talking through a mouthful of food.

“Ew, Ashton. Don’t talk and eat.” I throw a paper napkin at him.

He rolls his eyes and swallows. “Yes, Mom.”

I stick out my tongue. “I like having a plan. I picked a tough career path—I need to know I can support myself. If I do well at a steady nine-to-five for a while, I can build clients and freelance design gigs. Then I’ll have time to paint. Might need fifty roommates to afford it, but at least I’ll be doing what I love.”

I glance down at my plate, fiddling with a stray piece of pasta as I ramble through my vision. When I finally look up, Ashton’s hand is covering mine.

He’s smiling softly, eyes full of warmth. “You’re pretty amazing, you know that?”

I blush, chewing my bottom lip. “Y-you’re only saying that because I have a five-year plan and you’re over here like, ‘Let me get a degree and hope someone hires me.’”

He laughs but squeezes my hand. “No, Sam.” His thumb runs along my wrist. “You came out here alone. You worked your ass off, paid for this place, double majored, scored an internship—and still manage to create mind-blowing art like a machine. And you look good doing it. You’re a force. Honestly? Kinda intimidating.”

I stare at him, wide-eyed. Speechless. My cheeks flame, and I duck my head as I stand, grabbing dishes. “Thanks, Ash. I didn’t know you were paying attention.”

He murmurs something that sounds like, “Couldn’t stop if I tried.”

“What?” I ask from the kitchen.

“I said the lasagna’s too hot to go in the fridge.”

“That's fine. Just leave it on the table—I’ll get it later. Go check N*****x for a movie. I’m gonna wash these real quick.”

As I rinse dishes, Ashton walks in with the wine glasses and empty bottle. He sets them on the counter, then steps behind me, his hands landing on my waist.

He leans down, breath hot on my neck. “You gonna do the dishes like last time? I can help with... anything you need.”

His hips press into mine, and his teeth nip my ear. His hands slide beneath my shirt, fingers teasing the hem. My breath hitches, loud and shallow. My nipples harden, clearly visible beneath the thin fabric and bra. I nearly drop the plate I’m holding, managing to set it in the sink before bracing myself on the counter.

Encouraged, Ashton lifts the hem of my shirt, trailing his hands along my bare stomach. A moan escapes me before I can stop it. The air thickens between us, every breath heavy and strained. I can feel how hard he is, pressed tight against me. His fingers draw lazy circles on my skin.

I roll my hips back into his, and he groans in my ear.

“What are you doing, Ashton?” My voice is low and breathy, almost a moan. I want this. I’ve wanted this. The wine has definitely loosened some of my inhibitions. Matt? Mom and Dad? Who? The only thing holding me back is the fear that I’ll be just a one-night stand. I don’t want this to ruin us.

But as his hands move up to my ribs, that fear starts to fade.

“Just helping you, Sam,” he whispers. “If there’s anything you want me to do... you just have to tell me. Anything.”

His fingers trace just beneath my bra, brushing along the seam. He bites my ear again, and this time I moan loudly, hips moving of their own accord.

I reach behind me, looping my arms around his neck. “Do that again,” I breathe. “On my neck.”

He exhales shakily, then moves to my neck—licking, biting, sucking—driving me wild. I grab one of his hands and guide it up to cup my breast. I tilt my head, giving him full access, moaning loudly.

“Fuck, Sam,” Ashton groans. “You’re so fucking beautiful. So fucking hot.”

With his free hand, he tugs my bra down. My breasts spill free, nipples visible over the low-cut top. He redoubles his attention to my neck, pinching and rolling my nipples with deft fingers, our hands still laced.

I grind against him again, and he thrusts forward, pushing me into the counter.

“Ashton!” I whine.

“What do you want, baby?” His voice is thick, desperate. “Tell me.”

“Touch me. Feel how wet you’ve made me already,” I whisper.

“Fuck.” He moves his hand to the front of my shorts, popping the button just as—

His phone rings.

He freezes.

“Ignore it!” I beg.

“It’s Matt’s ringtone,” he mutters.

Shit. Matt. Seriously?

“Just ignore it. He probably thinks we’re at a club or something.”

Ashton chuckles against my skin. “You want me to touch you that badly?”

I grind into him again. “I’m not the only one.”

“You’re right about that.” He kisses my neck, fingers tweaking my nipple again. I moan, tugging his braids, holding him close.

He opens my shorts, pulls down the zipper, and trails his fingers along the top of my panties.

“Please!” I whimper.

“Please what, baby?” He’s definitely enjoying this.

I yank his face from my neck, meeting his eyes. Without breaking eye contact, I slide my hand down and into my panties.

His gaze flicks between my eyes and my hand. Just as my fingers graze my slick folds—

My phone rings.
Asshole by Denis Leary blares from the counter.

“Fuck!” I growl. “He’s not gonna stop, is he?”

“Nope,” Ashton says with a matching groan. “You know how persistent he is.”

I snatch my phone. “Hey, Matt. What’s up?”

Ashton doesn’t move away. His hands slide from my waist to wrap around me, chin resting on my shoulder.

“Geez, what’d I do to you?” Matt asks, clearly picking up on my tone.

“Sorry. Just... interrupted something. What’s going on?”

“Is Ashton there? He didn’t answer.”

“He was in the bathroom. He’s here now. Wanna talk to him?”

“Put me on speaker,” Matt demands.

I roll my eyes. “His Highness demands we all bask in his glorious voice.”

Ashton chuckles. I flip the phone to speaker.

“I heard that, brat! I just don’t wanna say this twice. Have you guys been watching the news?”

“No,” I say. “I’m in college. I don’t have time for the news.”

“I’ve been traveling all day,” Ashton adds. “What’s wrong?”

“There’ve been 22 new cases of the virus. In New York.”

“What, that COVID thing?” I ask, immediately cringing.

“Yes, that COVID thing. Geez, Sam. You really are out of touch.” Matt sounds pissed, but I know he’s just worried. He was more against me moving to New York than even my parents.

Ashton steps back, concern in his eyes. I quickly zip and button my shorts, hearing him sigh.

I smile faintly and whisper, “Later.”

Matt’s still talking. “It’s spread into the city. Governor’s holding a press conference tomorrow. Do you guys have masks? Groceries? Essentials?”

“I’ve got spray paint masks,” I say, realizing I forgot a bunch of stuff earlier today. Like detergent. And wine. Especially wine.

“Maybe we should hit the store when we finish the dishes,” Ashton suggests.

“Not a bad plan,” I say distractedly.

“Make sure you get enough for two weeks. This could get ugly. Sam, do you have your asthma meds?”

“Yes, Dad. Just refilled them on Tuesday.”

“Oh, shit. I forgot you had asthma. Maybe I should go alone.”

I smile. “I’ll be fine. Stop scaring him, Matt. He’ll leave before he even gets to interview.”

“Good. Bring her back with you.”

His joking tone changes the room instantly.

Ashton and I tense. I adjust my shirt and step away, using the towel and dishes as an excuse. He says nothing, but I feel his eyes on me.

“What’s that got to do with us?” I ask. “The people affected are older. In Westchester.”

“It’s here now, Sam. You need to be prepared. Get masks. Groceries. Stay in this weekend.”

“I have wine to buy,” I mutter.

“Get enough for two weeks. This is serious.”

I grip the sink tighter. “Matthew, chill. We’re not China. It won’t get that bad.”

Even Ashton looks unsure now.

“I don’t know,” he says. “Maybe we should go back. Rent a car, leave tomorrow—”

“No,” I cut him off. “You have interviews. I have school. We’re not leaving.”

I’m rambling now—too many feelings crashing into each other. Ashton. The virus. Matt. I can’t deal with all of it at once.

“I’ll call you later, brother dear.”

“Promise me you’ll wear masks. Stay six feet from people. Just... stay in.”

“Love you, Matt. Bye!” I hang up quickly.

Ashton raises an eyebrow.

“I’m grabbing those masks. Then we’ll go.”

“Okay,” he drawls as Asshole starts blaring again.

“Answer it if you want,” I call over my shoulder. “I’m done with Paranoid Patty for tonight.”

I walk toward my room.

“You might wanna change clothes,” Ashton calls after me. “It’s cold out.”

I glance back at him, walking backwards with a smile.

“Then I might need to find a way to warm up after.”