Did You Just Call Me Fat. The Captain's Secret Obession

To Hell With The Consequences

Nova's

He bent his head, his lips hovering barely a millimeter from mine. His warm, uneven breath fanned across my skin, sending a ridiculous, electrifying shiver straight down my spine.

"Can I kiss you?" Ashton whispered, his voice dropping to a rough, gravelly register that did entirely inappropriate things to my pulse.

I didn’t know what kind of temporary insanity, lapse in judgment, or literal devil took hold of my brain, but my head nodded. It was completely involuntary. The next minute, his mouth crashed onto mine, and any semblance of sanity I possessed officially exited the building.

We weren't just kissing; we were completely devouring each other. It was a messy, breathless, high-stakes exchange of saliva, our tongues tangling like our actual lives depended on it. My hands instinctively flew to his shoulders, gripping the cool fabric of his jacket as he pulled me flush against his chest. Before I could even process how fast my heart was hammering against my ribs, Ashton’s hands slid down my waist. They anchored firmly on my ass, gripping a full handful of my huge cheeks and squeezing tightly, pulling me up against his hips.

Hold on a damn minute.

The sudden, intense grip snapped a wire in my brain. Reality rushed back in a cold, unforgiving wave. He has done absolutely nothing to deserve this, I suddenly remembered. He hadn't apologized, he hadn't treated me well, and he certainly hadn't earned the right to treat my body like his personal playground.

"Mph—!" I muffled into the kiss, suddenly pulling my face back.

Anger flared through my veins, hot and sharp. I brought my fists up and started hitting him right in the chest. They weren’t soft, playful taps either—I gave him a couple of solid, frustrated thumps against his sternum.

Ashton flinched, pulling back just a fraction. His chest heaved as he stared down at me, his eyes dark, blown-out, and wildly confused.

"Should I stop?" he breathed out, his voice incredibly deep and rough around the edges. He looked completely wrecked by a mere minute of making out. "Do you not like it, Nova?"

I opened my mouth to give him a piece of my mind—to deliver a wonderfully sassy, cutting remark that would put him back in his place. But then I looked at his mouth. His lips were glossy, utterly ruined, and completely covered in the glistening wetness of our saliva. He looked like absolute sin on legs.

My gaze flicked from his lips back to his dark eyes, and my resolve shattered into a million pathetic pieces. I had spent months imagining exactly what this would feel like. I had locked myself in my room, mentally writing scenarios just like this, aching to know what his mouth felt like on mine. Finally, I was experiencing it.

To hell with reasoning. To hell with Chloe. And to hell with the consequences.

"Shut up," I muttered.

Instead of waiting for him to reply, I grabbed the lapels of his jacket, yanked him down, and captured his mouth by myself again.

This second kiss was entirely different. It was feral. I poured all my pent-up frustration, longing, and absolute defiance into him. Ashton let out a low, vibrating growl against my lips, his grip tightening on my hip as he lifted me slightly off my feet, pressing me hard against the nearest wall. I wrapped my arms around his neck, tangling my fingers in the dark hair at the nape of his neck, completely discarding any dignity I had left. We were completely lost in the kiss, drowning out the rest of the world, when a sudden, sharp sound shattered our bubble.

Click.

The heavy front door downstairs swung wide open, echoing loudly through the foyer.

"Hey! Anyone here?" a voice called out from the entrance.

My eyes snapped open, my heart instantly dropping straight into my stomach. "Oh my god," I hissed, breaking the kiss and shoving Ashton’s chest. "Someone's here!"

"In here," Ashton scrambled, his usual effortlessly cool demeanor completely evaporating as he grabbed my wrist. "Move, move!"

Panicking, we bolted blindly into the adjacent bathroom, targeting the massive walk-in glass shower as the ultimate hiding spot. We lunged inside the enclosure, but in our frantic, uncoordinated rush to pull the heavy glass door shut, Ashton’s elbow slammed hard into the digital control panel mounted on the wall.

Beep.

A split second later, the overhead rain showerhead erupted, blasting us with a torrential, freezing cold downpour.

"Holy—!" Ashton choked out, instantly drenched as the water pelted his head and shoulders.

"Turn it off! Ashton, turn it off!" I shrieked, wiping my eyes blindly as the freezing water soaked through my clothes in seconds.

"I'm trying! Which button is it?" he yelled back, his hands frantically slapping the wet, slippery glass panel, which only seemed to activate the lower wall jets, spraying us from even more angles.

"Step aside, let me do it! You are a literal menace!" I pushed his soaking wet shoulder, stepping deeper into the cramped, steaming enclosure to mash the power button myself.

With a final, desperate shove of my palm against the digital screen, the water abruptly shut off.

The sudden silence in the bathroom was deafening. We stood there in the dripping stall, gasping for air, our chests heaving as we shivered from the sudden chill. I shook my head like a wet dog, wiping a stream of water away from my eyes