In Love, Never Say Never (Ashton Fuller and Scarlett Stovall)

I knew he was desperate to shower because of the overpowering stench of blood on his body. I followed him into the bathroom.

He turned to look at me with a frown. "What's wrong?"

"I'll help you wash up!" I exclaimed, reaching out to help him remove his jacket.

Just as my fingers reached his belt buckle, Ashton grabbed my hands and said in a ragged voice, "That's enough. I'll do the rest by myself. Go to sleep first!"

It was my turn to frown at him now. "You can't get wet because of your injuries. How are you supposed to shower or even bathe? Your only option now is to wipe yourself with a washcloth, but I don't think you'll be able to do that yourself."

Ashton demurred. "It's alright. Don't make such a huge fuss about it. I'll wipe myself down."

However, I insisted stubbornly, "I'll wipe you down!"

His eyes grew darker. Gazing at me with an unreadable expression, he said, "Mess with the bull and you get the horns. Are you sure about this?"

This man was going to be the death of me!

"If you try and wipe yourself down, your injuries might get worse," I said sulkily, changing the topic.

Ashton smirked devilishly. Taking my hand, he helped me unbuckle his belt, before guiding my hand to unzip his pants, his eyes growing even darker with lust.

I wasn't completely stupid. Knowing where this was going, I hastily retracted my hand and hissed, "You wipe yourself down, then. I'm going to sleep first."

Before I even exited the bathroom, Ashton had pulled me back, hugging me from behind. Afraid that I might aggravate his injury, I froze and tried not to move around as much.

I could feel his eyes boring into the back of my head. "Can we do it now?"

My face turned red with embarrassment. "Your wound might reopen."

"It's just a small injury. What's the worst that could happen?"

The temperature in the bathroom was high to begin with. His voice sounded a little rough, but he continued to press, "Can we?"

I looked down and shut my eyes, refusing to answer him. He took my silence as consent.

After a hot, passionate round of love-making, I felt as though my body was about to fall apart like a rag doll. As I wiped myself clean, I noted that Ashton's wound had bled through the white bandages again. His abdomen looked like a crime scene.

I frowned and gazed at him, feeling a little angry. "Look, you're bleeding again! I told you that was going to happen. Your wound has opened up again!"

Ashton seemed to find this very funny. After putting on his bathrobe, he said, "It's alright. Just get Jared to come over and take a look at it again. Don't worry about it."

I shot a glare at him, at a loss for words. I made my way out of the bathroom and made a call to Jared.

The call went through almost immediately. Hastily, I said, "Dr. Crest, Ashton's wound has reopened again. He seems to be bleeding quite badly. Can you please come and take a look at him?” Jared froze for a second and demanded in confusion, "Why would his wound reopen suddenly?"

I didn't know what to reply him. I couldn't tell him that we just made love in the bathroom, could I? Rather helplessly, I muttered, "Anyway, he's bleeding quite a lot. Come over and take a look, won't you? Please do me a favor."

As I hung up the phone, Ashton looked mischievously at me with his arms crossed over his chest. With a faint smile, he said, "Are you going to tell him that my wound reopened because of unspeakable physical exertions?"

I glared at him and said, "Would this have happened if you controlled yourself just now?"

Ashton barked with laughter. In a helpless tone, he said, "Don't worry, it's not as serious as it seems."

Jared arrived at our house very quickly. Seeing the blood on Ashton's wound, Jared narrowed his eyes and raised a brow at him. "Just this once, do you understand me? I won't do this for you again." Ashton shrugged amiably and replied with a drawl, "You don't have a wife. How are you supposed to understand the struggle of us married men?"

I gazed at him, shocked.

Was he blaming this on me?

Jared snorted loudly and placed the first aid kit aside. Turning to look at me, he said, "I'm kind of hungry? What time is dinner?"

I gaped at him for a second before replying, "Mrs. Eriksen is still preparing it. Can you help patch up his injury first?"

Jared found a place to sit down. Smirking slightly, he declared, "But I'm hungry and don't have much energy left. Ashton won't die of his injuries anyway."

Um...

Alright then!

I went downstairs and helped Mrs. Eriksen with the dinner. Just before I left, I heard Ashton turn to Jared and mutter, "You aren't young anymore, you know. Do you plan to be single for the rest of your life?" Jared sighed dramatically. "How would a married man like you understand the freedom of a single man?"

However, Ashton wasn't deterred. "Oh, stop sounding so smug. Why don't you use your hands the next time you feel an itch in your pants, instead of sleeping with the next woman you see?"

I felt rather stunned...

Conversations between men were really something else! I shuddered and flew down the stairs.

Mrs. Eriksen was nearly done with the food by the time I arrived in the kitchen. Just as I finished setting the table, Ashton and Jared made their way downstairs too.

The two of them seemed to be getting along very well. Due to the unspoken rule that we shouldn't be talking during mealtimes, none of us made conversation with each other throughout the meal.

After that, Jared helped to clean up Ashton's wound. In a voice of extreme disgust, he said, "Don't call me the next time you get into this sort of trouble again, thanks!"

Ashton shrugged and said with a nonplussed expression, "Well, that will depend on the situation."

Too tired to continue arguing with him, Jared got up and packed up the first aid kit. After jangling his keys in farewell, he turned around and left.

Ashton seemed to be in a pretty good mood. He leaned back against the sofa and ordered Mrs. Eriksen to bring him his documents from his study.

With nothing to do, I sat down beside him and flipped listlessly through a book.

"Ashton, why did the Moore family stop investigating the case?" This question had been stuck in my head since yesterday. Rebecca was the love of Cameron's life, and I had performed the blasphemous act of stabbing her. Even if I had so much as given Rebecca a push, Cameron would have been after my neck. Why had her attitude towards the whole situation changed so quickly?

Ashton narrowed his eyes and put down the documents in his hands, gesturing for me to sit down next to him.

I obeyed him and lowered myself into the seat beside him. He wrapped his arms around me and said in a slightly hoarse voice, "Without any evidence, what can they do?"