Katie Ashley - Strings of the Heart

“More questions?”

“Sure. Just ones that don’t have anything to do with sex.”

“Sounds fair to me.” With a grin, she added, “Fire away.”

I thought about a safe question to ask her. “Okay, how old were you when you drank for the first time?”

“Sixteen—it was the champagne at my party.”

“Ah, I see.”

“And you?”

“Twelve.”

Allison’s eyes bulged. “Twelve? That’s just a baby.”

“It was just one drink. I didn’t start down an alcoholic path at that age.”

She giggled. “I’d hope not.” Taking another sip of her beer, she asked, “So where was it?”

“It was during a society party of my parents. I wanted to be like the older guys who were there. We’ve already established that I was a socially awkward misfit, so it should make total sense that I was being a dick to try and fit in. So when they dared me to drink a glass of Scotch, I downed it in one gulp.” I shuddered as the memory flickered through my mind. “I thought I was going to die. I think I ended up puking most of the night, and lying to my nanny that it was some stomach bug.”

Allison frowned. “You poor thing.”

I chuckled. “Nah, I deserved it. But it did teach me a lesson about trying to fit in with the older kids. From that point on, I didn’t give a shit about what they thought—I was really my own person.”

“Such a wise revelation to have for such a young person,” Allison mused.

Shaking my head, I replied, “Kids in my world grow up fast. When you’re shuttled away to boarding school practically as a baby, you learn to only rely on yourself. In the end, that’s all you have.”

When I looked up at Allison, tears shimmered like diamonds in her dark eyes. Trying to ease the tension of the moment, I laughed. “Okay, no more beers for you.”

“Sometimes you remind me so much of Jake.”

“I do?”

She nodded. “He tried for so long to close himself off to other people—not to let them see his weaknesses.” A lone tear streaked down her face. “His pain.”

“Allison—”

“I see you, Rhys,” she whispered.

My heartbeat thrummed wildly in fear at her statement, causing me to feel like an utter pansy. Christ, what had I done to make it so easy for her to be able to see through all my bullshit? The better question was why she was still sitting beside me after seeing the real me?

As if reading my mind, Allison said, “I see all of you, and I’m not disgusted.”

Not liking the direction the conversation was taking, I rose out of the swing. I needed to put distance between Allison and myself. Things were getting too personal and deep too quickly. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d opened up to anyone like I had with her. It wasn’t enough that she was so compassionate and caring. At the same time, she distracted me by being so fucking hot. At one moment, I wanted to hug her to me for the comfort she could provide. Then at the next, I wanted to peel her sexy-as-hell black dress off that could make a guy spring wood at fifty paces and stroke every inch of her creamy white skin.

“Yeah, well, I think that’s enough for tonight. You have class in the morning, and I need my beauty sleep to gird up strength to deal with my parents.”

After wiping her tear-stained cheeks, Allison bent over and picked up her sexy heels that she had discarded when we sat down. Her eyes held so much emotion that I could tell she was fighting hard to hold it back. “Thank you for inviting me tonight.”

“It’s me that should be thanking you. I might’ve been auctioned off to a cunt, as you called it, if it hadn’t been for you.”

A shadow of a smile played on her lips. “I’m glad I could save the day.”

Without second guessing myself, I leaned in and gave her a hug. As we swayed back and forth, Allison’s hands came up to grip the back of my shirt. Having my arms around her stirred me on both an emotional and physical level. But with her sexy curves pressed against me, I was certainly focusing more on the physical side. She was so delicate, just like the magnolia on the pendant I’d given her. With her scent and softness overwhelming me, my mind railed at me to pull away. All right, asshole, you have about two seconds to pull away before she feels just how much you’re enjoying copping a feel.

When I finally pried myself away, I smiled at Allison. “I’ll text you about doing movie night soon.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

After placing a tender kiss on her cheek, I turned and walked away. But even as I put distance between us, I couldn’t shake the feeling of that hug. Even when I lay down that night, I could almost still feel her in my arms.

And that made me scared as hell.

The following two and a half weeks flew by in a whirlwind of school, work, and most importantly, Rhys. We hadn’t spent a day apart since he arrived in Savannah. True to his word, he came to my house the night after the auction for Monty Python and Penis Pizza. He ended up sleeping on the couch because we kept talking and drinking beer long after the movie was over. The second best thing besides Rhys dressed to the nines in a tux was Rhys tangled in blankets with tousled hair while asleep on the couch.

Of course, that night I also experienced a level of mortification I hadn’t known existed. I’d fallen asleep snuggled next to Rhys with the strains of Hugh Jackman singing as Jean Valjean in Les Miserables. The closeness of him, coupled with his smell, had done a number on me as I slipped further and further into dreamland. Amid the foggy wisps of my sub consciousness, I began to dream. As I lay on my bed, Rhys loomed over me, his eyes hungry with lust. I found that not only was he very naked, but I was naked as well. Rhys’s mouth captured mine with his own. At the feel of his warm lips on my own, I reached up to wrap my arms around his neck, drawing him closer to me. My fingers ran through the silky strands of his hair, as he thrust his tongue into my mouth.

As we continued to kiss, he brought one of his hands up to cup and knead my breast, tweaking the nipple into a hardened peak. I moaned into his mouth, scissoring my legs to get the friction I desperately wanted. Sensing my need, Rhys’s other hand slipped between my thighs. His fingers slid long strokes up and down my wet slit before one finger plunged inside me. “Rhys,” I panted, as one finger became two.

“Allison,” Rhys murmured, as he stared into my eyes with a combative mixture of love and lust.

I cupped his cheeks in my hands, feeling the stubble along his skin. I wanted nothing more to feel that stubble grazing the inside of my thighs as he went down on me. As his fingers pumped in and out of me, I arched my hips in time. “Please, please,” I begged.

“Allison,” Rhys repeated, his free hand shaking my shoulder. When his fingers disappeared from inside me, I cried out in frustration.

“No, don’t stop!”

He started shaking me harder and harder until my eyes snapped open. Rhys stared down at me, not with lust, but with concern. “Allison, wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”

“Oh…my…God,” I muttered, as my hands came up to cover my cheeks that blazed with humiliation. How was it possible I had just been having a sex dream about Rhys as he lay right next to me? I wanted to bolt from the couch and lock myself in my room, but I remained paralyzed on the couch.

“Are you okay?” Rhys asked.

“Fine. Just fine,” I muttered behind my hands.

“That must’ve been some hell of a dream the way you were moaning and thrashing about. I’ll know now not to watch any horror movies late at night with you.”

When I continued to keep my face hidden, Rhys hand came to gently pull mine away. “Hey, what’s the matter?”

I bit my lip to keep from blurting that my panties were soaked from having a literal wet dream about him. I sure as hell hoped he couldn’t smell my arousal. Instead, I sighed. “Just embarrassed, that’s all.”

Rhys gave me a genuine smile. “You’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about. Want me to lie here with you until you can go back to sleep?”

I couldn’t believe he was willing to do that. “Please.”

“First order of business is to put on something less depressing to watch than Les Mis. I think a comedy is in order to chase away the nightmares.”

“Me, too.”

And then he had dug out Robin Hood: Men in Tights from my roommates and my communal DVD collection. He had wrapped me in his arms, and we both fell asleep again. It had been heaven on earth, minus being woken up from the naughty sex dream.

As the days went on, we continued spending more and more time together. When we were together, everything was good—the conversation, the food we ate, the places we went to see. Rhys was the quintessential Renaissance man. He was someone who could be doubled over with laughter at inane comedies like Anchorman and DodgeBall one night and then the very next be thoroughly enraptured at a poetry reading or art gallery opening. You could talk to him about anything—philosophy, history, or literature. He was always well versed and could bring the most interesting aspects to a discussion. He’d won over two of my roommates by being able to help them with their Design Law class. Being with Rhys was like getting to see the very best of both worlds—the society intellectual he had been born as and then the down and dirty, beer-drinking rocker he had become. Rhys’s complexities just made me love him all the more.