Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Brand’s quiet chuckle echoed him, before capable hands nudged him gently. “Come. We can continue this conversation inside. Preferably in bed.”
Ash let himself be gently manhandled out of the car—but then stopped, glancing at the house and then back at the car, before looking up at Brand. He didn’t want to take this to bed with them…and tonight he’d rather be with Brand than wallowing in this helpless ache. For all that they’d agreed to be lovers, there’d been nothing since that night but a few kisses and light touches before falling asleep together. And it had been sweet, and right, and comforting, and good. But tonight, if Brand wanted to...
Ash wanted more.
But not until he’d cleared his head, and could come to bed without this third presence standing between them.
He smiled faintly. “Hey. Give me the keys and go in without me?”
With a frown, Brand offered the keyring. “Whatever for?”
“I just want to go for a quick drive. Take the Mercedes around the block to clear my head.” He found it in him to grin. “Promise no running off to fuck rich jocks.”
If Brand found that at all amusing, his flat glance gave no indication. “I didn’t even know you had a driver’s license.”
“You can’t learn everything about me from the tabloids, Brand.”
An odd stillness went through Brand. He tilted his head, regarding Ash intently. “If I wanted to know more than the tabloids tell, would you let me?”
Brand seemed to be asking more than that simple question—but Ash couldn’t tell what. Some part of him was afraid to find out, when he might be useless there, as well. Helpless. Pointless.
He lowered his eyes. “I don’t know,” he murmured.
“Ah.” He glanced up to find Brand bowing. “Shall I wait for you in your chambers, then?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”
“Very well, young Master.”
Ash said nothing. They stood in silence for long moments, Brand watching him in that strange way he had that made Ash feel like Brand was gravity and Ash was caught in his well…before Brand turned around and walked into the house, leaving Ash standing alone next to the Mercedes, keys dangling limply from his fingers.
SOMETHING IN BRAND WARNED HIM not to let Ashton go.
He stood in the front window of the house and watched the Mercedes pull away with Ash behind the wheel. It was almost midnight, and Ash was so clearly weary to the bone. Even if Brand wanted to respect his young Master’s need to be alone, he wasn’t sure if he should be out driving right now. But it was too late to stop him; Brand almost wished Amiko would materialize out of nowhere to tell him what to do about her son, with his fragile emotions and sudden whims—but this late at night she was likely bedded down either in her suite or in Calvin Harrington’s. Brand held himself stiffly still, fighting the urge to do something inadvisable without anyone here to stop him.
And then pushed himself into motion, bloody well stepping outside to do it anyway.
Several other cars were parked in the locking garage, including Amiko’s rented Prius, their keys hanging on a ring just inside the door. Brand selected a quiet late-model black Ford sedan, slipped in behind the wheel, and only waited long enough for the automated garage door to open halfway before he sent the Ford rolling out into the night.
He’d just circle the block. Keep a safe distance; Ash never needed to know Brand was following him. He didn’t know why it was so urgent; this wasn’t that possessive need, but something darker, ramping his pulse up and tingling at him with a wash of premonition so dire it could only be pointless paranoia, set on high alert when his own emotions, he was discovering, could be just as fragile as Ashton’s.
At least where Ashton himself was concerned.
There was no sign of the Mercedes, when Brand turned onto the main road. Ashton had a bit of a head start; he might have also gone in the opposite direction. Brand would take a circle around, and if he saw nothing to be concerned over he would go back to the house and just…wait.
Yet he wasn’t as far behind as he’d thought; as he guided the Ford through the winding suburban roadways, he caught tail lights up ahead, their configuration familiar, slowing at a stoplight. Brand slowed as well, keeping his distance, waiting for the light to change before he accelerated. The Mercedes pulled forward carefully as the light switched green.
And in a crunching of metal, a screaming of tires, another car came careening through the intersection and slammed right into it.
If Ash had been going a single notch faster, the Mercedes would have been T-boned. Instead the car—a flashy red truck, that was all Brand saw—slammed into the nose of the Mercedes, spinning it to the side and not even slowing down as it kept streaking past, weaving drunkenly. The Mercedes skewed wildly, then skidded to a halt. Brand’s heart stopped, then leaped forward, charging ahead as quickly as the Ford as Brand slammed down on the accelerator.