Chapter 11: Too close

Ashley’s POV

The sound of rushing water filled the room, a constant, irritating rhythm that seemed to echo in my skull as I sat on the bed and stared at the ceiling. I forced myself to ignore it, to focus on anything but the knowledge that Andreas was in there, naked, just a door away. My face burned with a heat that had nothing to do with the stuffy room.

My mind replayed the entire hunt and the look of wicked glee in his eyes as he held the stripped skin of the tiger. It was clear that whatever family politics that was at play, he wasn't a sitting duck and it was clear that for his father to have chosen him to head, he was probably the most ruthless of the three.

Ashton, my sister, the only person who I might have asked any of my questions seeing as I was here on her behalf was still unreachable. Another pang of worry stabbed at me. Was she okay? Had something happened to her at the event that she'd said she had gone for? I shook my head, trying to dispel the thought. She was probably out having a blast, laughing in my face. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d lied to get me here, to this ridiculous masquerade.

I needed to just make sure that I made it to the end of the weekend and I was not doing so bad so far. Just get through this night, I reminded myself. Tomorrow morning, I’d be back in Vermont, surrounded by familiar things and people. I could almost taste the crisp, clean air. I'd go back to being Ashley Grey and Ashton would get an earful from me for ghosting.

With a determined sigh, I headed to my suitcase to select a dress. Something to wear to the feast that was barely an hour away. I stripped quickly, my eye on the bathroom door and the running shower assuring me that Adrian wouldn't come out and find me half naked. The last thing I wanted was to be undressed in front of my sister’s husband even though he had no idea I wasn't her. As I slipped into the dress and turned to face the mirror, a low groan escaped from the bathroom. I paused, wondering if I had imagined the sound, and when I didn't hear it again, continued tugging at my dress.

My fingers fumbled with the complicated back straps of the dress and my heart hammered like a trapped bird against my ribs with every passing second, as my eyes kept going to the bathroom door. Just as I was about to give up and select another dress from the array of fits that Ashton had packed for me, a sound broke through my concentration - a low, guttural groan. Fear, sharp and cold, replaced the growing heat in my cheeks.

Had he been injured during the hunt? I remembered that his shirt had been blood-stained when he returned. Swallowing hard and telling myself that I was just doing this because I wanted to be sure that he was okay, I tiptoed towards the door, and with trembling hands, I eased open the door a fraction, my breath catching in my throat as the scene unfolded before me.

There he was, naked as the day he was born, the shower curtain pushed away from the glass, water sheeting down his hard body, his eyes closed and his head against the tile. One hand gripped the cool tile, the other…lower. A soft moan escaped his lips, a sound as primal as the earth itself as he stroked himself over and over.

Panic seized me as I slammed the door shut and rushed back to stand in front of the mirror and my reflection was a caricature of myself - flushed, disheveled, and undeniably bothered. I forced myself to focus on the dress, my hands shaking as I fumbled with the straps, but all I could think about was how he'd looked like he was in near agony, chasing his relief. I couldn't even remember the last time I'd had sex, in a self-imposed celibacy journey after my relationship crashed and burned but I prided myself in my commendable level of self-control, until now. I fought the urge to rub my thighs together and failed.

Had he heard the door slam shut? What could he have been thinking about that had him concentrating so hard as he pleasured himself?

Get a grip, Ashley, ogling and ousting after your sister’s husband wasn't part of the assignment.

When he finally emerged, the bathroom door creaked shut behind him. From the side of my eye, I spied his form, feigning nonchalance even though he was a vision of damp perfection, a towel loosely knotted around his hips, his hair plastered to his forehead. I dared not look at him directly, my gaze fixed on my reflection, a desperate attempt at normalcy. 

A heavy silence filled the room, broken only by the insistent ticking of the clock. Then, his voice, low and husky, cut through the tension. "I was told you tried to enter the forest because of me," he said.

Finally, I met his gaze, forcing myself to ignore the way my pulse raced at the sight of his damp skin and the droplets that glistened on his chest. He was my sister’s husband, a reminder that rang like a warning in the back of my mind.

As we locked eyes, I watched to see signs that he might have heard the door but his face remained stoic and relief washed over me when I realized he hadn’t noticed my earlier indiscretion.

“Yes,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady even though I wanted to melt under the force of his gaze. “My suspicion that the map was altered was true and when you didn't come out after the stipulated time, I wanted to help.”

As he closed the distance between us, I couldn’t help but notice the scars that marred his skin. They told stories of battles fought and won, but more importantly, they also hinted at a man who had seen more than his share of darkness. I wondered what he'd been through to have become the person he was today and if those scars had anything to do with it.

“You’ve been acting strange since we arrived,” he said, his voice low and intense. “Offering that we share the bed, rushing into the forest at the thought that I could be in danger. It’s almost as if you’re trying to play the devoted wife.” His eyes narrowed, his gaze intense. “But we both know that’s a lie. And there’s something else, something different about you. Something I can’t quite put my finger on.”

My face paled as he leaned in, his breath warm against my skin. His eyes held mine captive, and for a terrifying moment, I thought he could see straight through me, see that I wasn't the twin that he married.

Had I been caught?