Asher
Page 12
I will the words to come but there’s a blank forming in my mind where my thoughts should be.
Seeing him from up close is making things worse. My brain is too busy taking in his image, his beautiful features, his strong body; having its usual short-circuit.
He leans forward, dangling his hands between his denim-clad knees. His dark hair falls in his face, hiding his expression. I can’t take my eyes off his long fingers, and the fresh, red scar on his knuckles. Can’t help thinking he got that saving me.
“You guys want a drink?” Zane asks, and Dakota—thankfully fully dressed again—is already heading toward the kitchen as if she owns the place.
When neither of us say anything, Zane shrugs and turns to follow her.
Leaving us alone in the room.
“So...” Ash raises his eyes and licks his lips.
God, the gesture sends tingles all over my skin. I open my mouth to speak but can’t remember what I want to say. My body always knows how much I want Ash, even when my mind is confused.
“Your ankle seems better,” he says.
I nod, dumbly. I have to speak, tell him, ask him... Nothing comes out of my lips. My head is an echoing empty room.
Silence stretches.
His dark brows draw together. “Well, if you have nothing to say...” He gets up and strides across the living room, leaving me there.
“Wait.” I shoot to my feet, almost tripping over myself, and hurry after him. I want to say I’m sorry, but I’ve barely touched his arm when he spins around.
Now he advances on me, his gaze furious, and I back away, shocked. He pushes me until my back hits the wall, and then he leans over me.
I suddenly have the full length of his tall, muscled body pressed against me. I put my hands on his chest, pushing in vain against his rock-hard abs, caught between giddiness and fear.
“Ash...”
“What do you want from me?” He bites each word out, his hand coming to rest next to my head on the wall. “What is it you want?”
“I want...” I don’t know. All I know is I hate the anger in his eyes, hate the tension in his body, the bruises on his face. I want to hold him. I reach up, brush my fingertips along his square jaw. “You.”
He blinks, eyes widening.
What have I said?
You.
Oh god, I really said it.
As it sinks in, I open my mouth to fix this—but he doesn’t give me the chance. His bigger hand catches mine, keeping it on his cheek. Under his skin, I can feel a vein pulsing madly, his heart pounding.
“You don’t want me,” he says, his voice hoarse, and his gaze searches mine as if it’s a question and he’s waiting for an answer. “I’m no good.”
Again that barely there question mark at the end of his statement.
Or maybe I’m imagining it. I’m caught in his beauty. I love his wolf-like eyes, silver-blue with a darker rim, shaded by long lashes. And his lips... They’re perfect. I rise on my tiptoes to kiss them. He’s like gravity, pulling me close.
“You should stay away,” he says, softly, but his mouth descends on mine, sealing my lips, marking them with fire. His tongue invades my mouth.
He tastes of lightning and dark spice. He draws me in, and I’m lost and falling, his hard arousal a counterpoint to the hot throb between my legs.
Closer. I want to feel him closer. My hand drops from his chest to his hip and snakes around, pressing into the small of his back.
Big mistake. Ash jerks back with a groan and slams his other hand on the wall, missing my face by an inch.
What the hell? “Ash, what—?”
“Leave,” he spits and steps back, away from me. “You were right to hate me, Auds. Stay away.”
I watch him go, my lips burning, my heart sinking. Like gravity, he lets me think I’m flying only to let me slam into the ground once again.
Chapter Eight
Asher
What the f**k is wrong with me? I pushed her into the wall, and then kissed her. Forcing myself on her. Again.
And then she pressed her hand into the bruises on my back, startling me, and I slammed my hand right into the wall. Scaring her.
Turning violent.
Turning into my dad.
Christ.
I bang the bathroom door shut behind me and brace my hands on the sink. What the hell is she doing here? Zane didn’t tell me she was coming or I’d have left the apartment.
Maybe that’s why he didn’t tell me. Fucker. He knows me too well.
And she has no right to be here, so sweet and beautiful, with her curves and pretty eyes, with that faint scar on her cheek that makes me ache with the need to hold her. Turning my mind to mush, making me want to forget about my resolutions and just be with her, bury myself in her so deep I become one with her.
Not having to face the real world.
Fantasies. I can’t afford them. I can’t hope in anything. Lesson learned.
Besides, she isn’t offering hope. Hasn’t offered anything. I just take and take.
I want you. She said that. Stammered it. I heard it. Right? I’m not sure anymore. She looked confused afterward. Maybe I imagined it. Or maybe I scared her and she panicked, blurting out things she didn’t mean. Things I wanted to hear so badly.
I bend my head, sucking in a shaky breath. Seeing her, being close to her is like drugs. Addictive. Dangerous.
A royally bad idea.
Two weeks ago it wouldn’t have been so bad. But now... Now I’ve made my decision and met people to help me see it through.
I’ve walked the streets again, went to joints I frequented months ago, during my previous escape from home sweet home. Joints where guys meet to fight for money, in dark basements, in rusty cages. Where bets are placed and dirty bills exchange hands for a taste of borrowed adrenaline, fear and spilled blood. For death.
They know me at The Bulldog, where I fought once to let out some of my rage. At least in the fight club I know when someone will attack me; I know the cage is the stage and what is expected of me.
This time I’m gonna fight for money. For a chance to live.
Two weeks ago I wasn’t doing anything illegal and potentially lethal.
Now I’m about to and I should keep Audrey out of it. Out of my f**ked up life.
Now if only she leaves before I get out of this goddamn bathroom, I might just be able to hold on to this new resolution.
***
Audrey is still there. I hear her voice as soon as I exit the bathroom, and I stall, my treacherous body reacting as if it’s been struck with a live wire. A shiver runs down my spine and I harden, remembering the kiss, the feel of her lips, her sweet taste, her soft body pressed against mine.
Fucking hell.
I reach down to adjust myself and suck in breath after breath, trying to get my dick to back down.
Down, boy. Not for you.
Yeah...
Why isn’t she leaving? Haven’t I been nasty enough to her? Why did she stick around?
Maybe she hasn’t come for me. Maybe it was her friend, this punk chick, who brought her along. Yeah, that makes sense. This girl, Dakota, is obviously hot for Zane, and probably dragged Audrey along, against her will.
And why the hell does the thought disappoint me? Haven’t I just decided Audrey should keep away from me? That it’s good she hates me?
I’m f**ked up in the head.
Straightening my aching back, I force myself to move, go back to where the others are sitting. I lean on the doorjamb, looking at them. At the sofa.
My living quarters, where I can never be alone or have any privacy. I have no belongings, no door to shut when I feel like it.
One day, I tell myself. I’ll see my plan through, and I’ll earn enough to have a place of my own, hell, a room of my own, like any normal person. A car to move about. The right to order pizza late at night if I want to.
A safe place where I can lock the door and sleep peacefully. Something that’s becoming rare these days. I can’t count the times I woke up drenched in cold sweat. I keep seeing myself opening the door to the house and knowing a punch is coming for me. Or finding myself on the floor, unable to move as pain lances through me, knowing I’m going to die.
“Ash.” Zane comes to where I’m leaning on the doorframe, grabs my arm and drags me into the living room. I let him manhandle me because I don’t trust myself to jerk away. I think if I move a single muscle, I might start punching people.
I have to calm down.
So I let Zane shove me down on the sofa and push a drink into my hands. Cold, wet. A beer. I clasp it reflexively.
Dakota is perched on the armrest of the sofa and Audrey sits in the armchair. Apart from me. At a distance.
Good. Better for her. I have to believe that but, god, it’s tough when she’s right here and I’m looking straight at her.
I force my gaze down to my sweating beer bottle and swallow. Damn, I’m hard. Again.
Shit.
I keep my bottle in a strategic position, hiding as much as I can, and try to think of other stuff to will the erection away. Like my history teacher’s face from high school. My lack of money and what I’m about to do to fix that. My father’s fists.
Okay, that last thought kills my erection in two seconds flat, making it a new record.
“Earth to Ash.” Zane is waving a hand in front of my face. When did he sit beside me? “Did you hear what Audrey said?”
“What?” I frown at my beer, not sure I want to know.
“She says she’s inviting you over for Christmas.”
I shake my head. I can’t be hearing well.
“Come over to my place,” she says, her voice low and hesitant. “Everyone else will be out of town. We can eat together.”
“No.” The word spills from my lips before I even think about it. I don’t need to think about it. “No.”
Zane winces. “Come on, f**ker, she’s being real nice. It’s Christmas. You can’t stay here all by yourself.”
“Sure I can.”
There’s pain in her eyes and I curse softly, my chest tightening so much I have to reach up and rub it. I hate causing her pain—but it’s for her own good.
Have to keep reminding myself that.
She gets up, not looking at me, and her voice is thick when she says, “Think about it. Please, Ash. I’d love you to come.”
Goddammit. She doesn’t sound like she’s faking it. I’ve wished for her to speak those words a thousand times in the past. Would have given my right arm to hear them.
You have to be careful what you wish for in this messed-up world.
***
“She was trying to be nice,” Zane mutters after Audrey and Dakota have left. He runs his hands through the stubble on the sides of his shaved head. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Many things,” I say. “Want a list?”
“Shut up.”
“You asked.”
Zane comes to stand over me, wearing a dark scowl. “You think you’re funny?”
I shrug. “Do you think I’m funny?”
“Dammit, Ash.” He straightens. “I didn’t want to let her come ’cause I thought she’d be a bitch. Turns out it’s you I should have been worried about.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, f**ker. You could at least be civil. You could be friends.”
“She doesn’t need a friend like me.”
“The hell she doesn’t. What the f**k does that even mean—a friend like me?” He mimics my voice, making a face. “This is bull and you know it.”
“If you say so.” I don’t need this shit.
“You’re one of the most decent guys I know, Ash. So get your head out of your ass and head over for Christmas.”
That is so not happening. I set my beer on the table, my hands shaking. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for your trip?”
“Trying to get rid of me? The voice of reason?”
“Kiss my ass, Z-man.”
Seeing him from up close is making things worse. My brain is too busy taking in his image, his beautiful features, his strong body; having its usual short-circuit.
He leans forward, dangling his hands between his denim-clad knees. His dark hair falls in his face, hiding his expression. I can’t take my eyes off his long fingers, and the fresh, red scar on his knuckles. Can’t help thinking he got that saving me.
“You guys want a drink?” Zane asks, and Dakota—thankfully fully dressed again—is already heading toward the kitchen as if she owns the place.
When neither of us say anything, Zane shrugs and turns to follow her.
Leaving us alone in the room.
“So...” Ash raises his eyes and licks his lips.
God, the gesture sends tingles all over my skin. I open my mouth to speak but can’t remember what I want to say. My body always knows how much I want Ash, even when my mind is confused.
“Your ankle seems better,” he says.
I nod, dumbly. I have to speak, tell him, ask him... Nothing comes out of my lips. My head is an echoing empty room.
Silence stretches.
His dark brows draw together. “Well, if you have nothing to say...” He gets up and strides across the living room, leaving me there.
“Wait.” I shoot to my feet, almost tripping over myself, and hurry after him. I want to say I’m sorry, but I’ve barely touched his arm when he spins around.
Now he advances on me, his gaze furious, and I back away, shocked. He pushes me until my back hits the wall, and then he leans over me.
I suddenly have the full length of his tall, muscled body pressed against me. I put my hands on his chest, pushing in vain against his rock-hard abs, caught between giddiness and fear.
“Ash...”
“What do you want from me?” He bites each word out, his hand coming to rest next to my head on the wall. “What is it you want?”
“I want...” I don’t know. All I know is I hate the anger in his eyes, hate the tension in his body, the bruises on his face. I want to hold him. I reach up, brush my fingertips along his square jaw. “You.”
He blinks, eyes widening.
What have I said?
You.
Oh god, I really said it.
As it sinks in, I open my mouth to fix this—but he doesn’t give me the chance. His bigger hand catches mine, keeping it on his cheek. Under his skin, I can feel a vein pulsing madly, his heart pounding.
“You don’t want me,” he says, his voice hoarse, and his gaze searches mine as if it’s a question and he’s waiting for an answer. “I’m no good.”
Again that barely there question mark at the end of his statement.
Or maybe I’m imagining it. I’m caught in his beauty. I love his wolf-like eyes, silver-blue with a darker rim, shaded by long lashes. And his lips... They’re perfect. I rise on my tiptoes to kiss them. He’s like gravity, pulling me close.
“You should stay away,” he says, softly, but his mouth descends on mine, sealing my lips, marking them with fire. His tongue invades my mouth.
He tastes of lightning and dark spice. He draws me in, and I’m lost and falling, his hard arousal a counterpoint to the hot throb between my legs.
Closer. I want to feel him closer. My hand drops from his chest to his hip and snakes around, pressing into the small of his back.
Big mistake. Ash jerks back with a groan and slams his other hand on the wall, missing my face by an inch.
What the hell? “Ash, what—?”
“Leave,” he spits and steps back, away from me. “You were right to hate me, Auds. Stay away.”
I watch him go, my lips burning, my heart sinking. Like gravity, he lets me think I’m flying only to let me slam into the ground once again.
Chapter Eight
Asher
What the f**k is wrong with me? I pushed her into the wall, and then kissed her. Forcing myself on her. Again.
And then she pressed her hand into the bruises on my back, startling me, and I slammed my hand right into the wall. Scaring her.
Turning violent.
Turning into my dad.
Christ.
I bang the bathroom door shut behind me and brace my hands on the sink. What the hell is she doing here? Zane didn’t tell me she was coming or I’d have left the apartment.
Maybe that’s why he didn’t tell me. Fucker. He knows me too well.
And she has no right to be here, so sweet and beautiful, with her curves and pretty eyes, with that faint scar on her cheek that makes me ache with the need to hold her. Turning my mind to mush, making me want to forget about my resolutions and just be with her, bury myself in her so deep I become one with her.
Not having to face the real world.
Fantasies. I can’t afford them. I can’t hope in anything. Lesson learned.
Besides, she isn’t offering hope. Hasn’t offered anything. I just take and take.
I want you. She said that. Stammered it. I heard it. Right? I’m not sure anymore. She looked confused afterward. Maybe I imagined it. Or maybe I scared her and she panicked, blurting out things she didn’t mean. Things I wanted to hear so badly.
I bend my head, sucking in a shaky breath. Seeing her, being close to her is like drugs. Addictive. Dangerous.
A royally bad idea.
Two weeks ago it wouldn’t have been so bad. But now... Now I’ve made my decision and met people to help me see it through.
I’ve walked the streets again, went to joints I frequented months ago, during my previous escape from home sweet home. Joints where guys meet to fight for money, in dark basements, in rusty cages. Where bets are placed and dirty bills exchange hands for a taste of borrowed adrenaline, fear and spilled blood. For death.
They know me at The Bulldog, where I fought once to let out some of my rage. At least in the fight club I know when someone will attack me; I know the cage is the stage and what is expected of me.
This time I’m gonna fight for money. For a chance to live.
Two weeks ago I wasn’t doing anything illegal and potentially lethal.
Now I’m about to and I should keep Audrey out of it. Out of my f**ked up life.
Now if only she leaves before I get out of this goddamn bathroom, I might just be able to hold on to this new resolution.
***
Audrey is still there. I hear her voice as soon as I exit the bathroom, and I stall, my treacherous body reacting as if it’s been struck with a live wire. A shiver runs down my spine and I harden, remembering the kiss, the feel of her lips, her sweet taste, her soft body pressed against mine.
Fucking hell.
I reach down to adjust myself and suck in breath after breath, trying to get my dick to back down.
Down, boy. Not for you.
Yeah...
Why isn’t she leaving? Haven’t I been nasty enough to her? Why did she stick around?
Maybe she hasn’t come for me. Maybe it was her friend, this punk chick, who brought her along. Yeah, that makes sense. This girl, Dakota, is obviously hot for Zane, and probably dragged Audrey along, against her will.
And why the hell does the thought disappoint me? Haven’t I just decided Audrey should keep away from me? That it’s good she hates me?
I’m f**ked up in the head.
Straightening my aching back, I force myself to move, go back to where the others are sitting. I lean on the doorjamb, looking at them. At the sofa.
My living quarters, where I can never be alone or have any privacy. I have no belongings, no door to shut when I feel like it.
One day, I tell myself. I’ll see my plan through, and I’ll earn enough to have a place of my own, hell, a room of my own, like any normal person. A car to move about. The right to order pizza late at night if I want to.
A safe place where I can lock the door and sleep peacefully. Something that’s becoming rare these days. I can’t count the times I woke up drenched in cold sweat. I keep seeing myself opening the door to the house and knowing a punch is coming for me. Or finding myself on the floor, unable to move as pain lances through me, knowing I’m going to die.
“Ash.” Zane comes to where I’m leaning on the doorframe, grabs my arm and drags me into the living room. I let him manhandle me because I don’t trust myself to jerk away. I think if I move a single muscle, I might start punching people.
I have to calm down.
So I let Zane shove me down on the sofa and push a drink into my hands. Cold, wet. A beer. I clasp it reflexively.
Dakota is perched on the armrest of the sofa and Audrey sits in the armchair. Apart from me. At a distance.
Good. Better for her. I have to believe that but, god, it’s tough when she’s right here and I’m looking straight at her.
I force my gaze down to my sweating beer bottle and swallow. Damn, I’m hard. Again.
Shit.
I keep my bottle in a strategic position, hiding as much as I can, and try to think of other stuff to will the erection away. Like my history teacher’s face from high school. My lack of money and what I’m about to do to fix that. My father’s fists.
Okay, that last thought kills my erection in two seconds flat, making it a new record.
“Earth to Ash.” Zane is waving a hand in front of my face. When did he sit beside me? “Did you hear what Audrey said?”
“What?” I frown at my beer, not sure I want to know.
“She says she’s inviting you over for Christmas.”
I shake my head. I can’t be hearing well.
“Come over to my place,” she says, her voice low and hesitant. “Everyone else will be out of town. We can eat together.”
“No.” The word spills from my lips before I even think about it. I don’t need to think about it. “No.”
Zane winces. “Come on, f**ker, she’s being real nice. It’s Christmas. You can’t stay here all by yourself.”
“Sure I can.”
There’s pain in her eyes and I curse softly, my chest tightening so much I have to reach up and rub it. I hate causing her pain—but it’s for her own good.
Have to keep reminding myself that.
She gets up, not looking at me, and her voice is thick when she says, “Think about it. Please, Ash. I’d love you to come.”
Goddammit. She doesn’t sound like she’s faking it. I’ve wished for her to speak those words a thousand times in the past. Would have given my right arm to hear them.
You have to be careful what you wish for in this messed-up world.
***
“She was trying to be nice,” Zane mutters after Audrey and Dakota have left. He runs his hands through the stubble on the sides of his shaved head. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Many things,” I say. “Want a list?”
“Shut up.”
“You asked.”
Zane comes to stand over me, wearing a dark scowl. “You think you’re funny?”
I shrug. “Do you think I’m funny?”
“Dammit, Ash.” He straightens. “I didn’t want to let her come ’cause I thought she’d be a bitch. Turns out it’s you I should have been worried about.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, f**ker. You could at least be civil. You could be friends.”
“She doesn’t need a friend like me.”
“The hell she doesn’t. What the f**k does that even mean—a friend like me?” He mimics my voice, making a face. “This is bull and you know it.”
“If you say so.” I don’t need this shit.
“You’re one of the most decent guys I know, Ash. So get your head out of your ass and head over for Christmas.”
That is so not happening. I set my beer on the table, my hands shaking. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for your trip?”
“Trying to get rid of me? The voice of reason?”
“Kiss my ass, Z-man.”
