Nothing To Prove

22 What A Sad Illusion This Has All Been

Samantha

Warmth. Fuzzy warmth. Floating inside me like flecks of dust in sunlight. Sheets up to my neck, Ashton spooning me to his chest. Oh, to soak in this moment forever. I hugged his forearm, nuzzling his hand.

"I need to brush my teeth," I grumbled. He was kissing the back of my neck, and I couldn't believe the rapid fire sparking through me. Oh, come on. This was embarrassing.

"Is that what you need?" He stroked the head of his demon against me, proving how wet I was.

My phone vibrated on the nightstand.

"What time is it?" I gasped, reaching but Ashton yanked me back and climbed on top of me. "Oh, no, no, no, no. Don't even think about it, mister. I need rehab. I need recovery. Not a chance. I am good for like the next ten years. I don't need⁠—seriously⁠—It's not... mmh, healthy..."

Impossible. The way his mouth lingered open-mouth kisses down my chest. Grunting, with a grumpy, puffy face. Hair a wild mess. Naked. Arms flexed as he hunched between my legs.

My phone kept vibrating, but Ashton's grip on my throat didn't let me move. Not for another thirty minutes and four orgasms. When every defense was melted and I was screaming yes.

"Go make us food, I need to nap. Go, I'm starving!" The bastard pushed my butt off the bed and dumped me on the carpet. It's okay, I was laughing. "Wear my shirt. No panties allowed."

It was Sunday, we had nowhere to go. And I'd never been excited about not having plans.

His black t-shirt fit me like a mid-thigh dress, smelling worn and spicy. I pulled the neckline over my nose and inhaled his scent like an addict. My joints cracked, bare feet padding to the kitchen when I noticed white envelopes slip through the mail slot by the front door.

I picked up our apartment bill, wincing internally. Ash had told me our rent was sixteen hundred dollars, but my budget was two hundred short... and I hadn't made any money as an influencer.

"What's that?" He moseyed out in black track pants. A chain necklace on his bare chest.

I ripped open the envelope and froze.

The bill.

It didn't make any sense.

"I think they made a mistake..." Horror struck me. What if it wasn't a typo? "How could they raise our rent a thousand dollars? It jumped from sixteen hundred to twenty-six. Isn't that illegal?"

He snatched the paper and scowled at it. A little too long. Why wasn't he saying anything?

"Ashton?" Something in my gut told me he knew.

The guilt in his flitting eyes confirmed it.

"No. Please, tell me you're kidding." I covered my mouth, stepping away. "Please, tell me I haven't been living here for two months thinking our rent was sixteen hundred dollars, but it was twenty-six all along. Please. Tell me I haven't been a total freeloader."

"What's the big deal?" He walked into the kitchen, opening the fridge.

"What's the big deal?" My voice cracked. "Ashton!"

"What?" He chuckled, looking out the window, then turning again. Opened a cupboard, set down a plate. "It's not a problem, you'll pay me back later..."

"How could you lie to me?"

"I didn't. I was trying to help—"

"By manipulating me? I'm not a helpless kid. I am an adult. I am a grown woman—"