Asher (12 page)

Chapter Twelve

Asher

Holy fuck, this girl killed me. Literally.

Not that I mind. It’s a beautiful death. I can barely move. I’m a puddle of pleasure on the couch, desperately trying to catch my breath. Her small hand is still wrapped around my softening junk, and I have my hand on top of hers, keeping it there.

Maybe I should move my hand, allow her to release me before I start hardening again like a twelve-year-old. Her proximity can do this to me—and she’s still naked, all her luscious curves pressed against me, her pretty round tits with their rosy nipples almost in my face.

Come on. I can’t get hard so fast after this orgasm wiped me out, can I?

Pressure’s building again in my balls.
Shit.
Maybe I really can.

Down, boy.
I’ll scare her. It’s unbelievable she’s still there. I don’t want to jinx it.

“You’re all sticky,” she says.

I snort. Sticky and gross, cum cooling all over my chest. “I need a shower. You, too.”

I pull her up with me and she comes gamely along, laughing quietly. Dizzy with happiness—the girl of my dreams is in my arms, naked and laughing—I drag her into the bathroom and start the hot water running.

She giggles when I draw her under the warm spray and she runs her hands over my chest, washing off the stickiness. I love the sound of her laughter. Her smile. Her shining eyes. Her wet skin, so smooth and perfect against mine.

Her scars. Her past and her sorrow. The whole of her.

Shit, I’m falling hard. Or maybe I already did, long ago. I’m addicted to her and there’s no hiding from it anymore.

Hell.
This is scary as fuck. Naked or not, I feel cut open and bared to her, feel as if she can see right through me, as my thoughts are written all over my face.

And speaking of naked...

My thoughts flow out of my head when she presses herself to me. Her breasts are soft, their tips hard, and we fit together as if she’s made for me—warm and curvy, her face underneath mine so I only have to dip my chin to kiss her cute little nose. Then I bend lower to kiss her mouth and she shifts, her hands moving to my back, bringing us closer.

I gasp when my dick is trapped between our bodies. Christ, I can’t believe I’m hard again already.

She smiles, tilting her head to the side, her red curls bouncing. So pretty. So sexy. I need her so badly.

God, this girl will be the death of me. I’m in love with her rosy nipples, her lush lips, her wide eyes. Everything about her is perfect.

I kiss her, eat her up, smooth my hands over her every curve. I dip my fingers between her legs, making her moan and writhe. I lift my other hand to her breasts, massaging one nipple, then the other, and she bends back to let me.

It’s heaven and hell. I’m touching her like I’ve always dreamed I would, and she’s making those sexy little noises, keening and moaning—but my dick is fit to burst and I have no condoms. I need to bury myself inside of her, but no way am I doing it without protection.

So instead I focus on her, rubbing her nub, dipping my fingers inside her heat, bending down to suckle on her breast, until I feel her come apart. She cries out, shaking against me, her hands scrabbling up my back, and I hold her as she rides her waves of pleasure.

Totally addicted. I’m fucking nuts for her.

I grab her wrists, lift her hands over her head and nudge her with my body backward, until she fetches up against the shower wall. I hold her hands up there, watch her chest rise and fall. Lust mingles with a speck of fear in her eyes, and I groan with need, my dick twitching. My grip on her wrists tightens, and she moans.

It sounds like she’s in pain.

Cold panic wells inside me. Christ, did I hurt her? I let go of her hands and step back. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

“Ash?” Her voice is small.

“Are you okay?” My chest feels too tight. “I haven’t hurt you, have I? I’m—”

“Ash.” Stronger now. Her hands catch my face, turn it toward her. Her eyes are dark with something I can’t name. I think she looks sad. “Listen to me.”

I nod.

“You haven’t hurt me at all. I would’ve said something if you did. I promise you that, okay?”

I nod again. Shoving a hand through my hair, I step out of the shower stall and grab a towel, holding it out for her. She lets me wrap her in it, biting her lip. It makes me want to pick up where we left off, but panic still threatens at the edge of my reason. I need a moment.

Fucked-up timing.

Or is it? Would I scare her more if I continued?
Jesus.
I’m driving myself up the fucking wall with my doubts.

She stands with her long hair dripping, a question in her eyes, and I don’t know how to fucking answer it. Yeah, I’m a fuck-up. But I’d never hurt her. Not on purpose.

I’m not what she expected me to be. I hope I’m not. I’m not my father.

“I know you’re not,” she says quietly.

Fuck, I said it out loud.

I grab another towel from the rack and dry my head roughly. Yeah, I really need a moment. I’ve lost every scrap of control I thought I had. The hard-earned lessons, my hard decisions, they’re all crumbling around me.

I want this girl like nothing else in the world—not just her perfect body, but her arms around me, her softly spoken words of comfort. The feeling I have when I’m with her.

That I’ve been alone in the world without her. That I’ve come back home.

And that’s the problem. Because it’s an illusion I can’t afford. I haven’t hurt her yet, but I’ll do so soon, one way or another.

***

“Ash?”

“Hm?” I stop in the act of pulling my jeans back on.

“What’s on your mind?” she asks softly.

The truth? That for so long I’ve felt empty inside. That she’s always held my heart. That I’m not what she needs.

“I have something I need to do tonight,” I say.

I don’t want to see her face, but she sighs, and I look up. Disappointment. She probably wanted me to say something good after fooling around with her, maybe ask her to stay the night with me, and there’s nothing I’d have liked more.

But I can’t.

“That’s fine. I’ve got stuff to do, too,” she says and I have to look away. She’s putting on a brave front, but I can see the pain in her eyes.

She’ll be okay. We haven’t even fucked.

Seriously, Ash?

I rake my fingers through my hair and tug, hard. I’m doing the one thing I hate: I’m hurting her.

“Ash...” She walks over to me. She’s dressed. What a shame. “Don’t shut me out again.”

I shake my head. Don’t wanna lie. If I’m shutting her out, it’s because I have to. “My life isn’t like yours, Auds.”

“What do you mean?”

Damn.
I pull on a T-shirt, but still don’t meet her gaze. I can’t. I don’t even know where to start, how to explain. “Never mind. I just need to work some things out.”

Silence stretches.

“You’re running away again,” she whispers.

Her words strike like knives. “I’m not running.”

“You sound like you’ve given up the fight.”

“What do you know about fighting?” Anger makes me see red. “What have you ever had to really fight for, with blood and pain? What do you know about any of it?”

She steps back, her eyes round. “Jesus, Ash. I just want to help you.”

“How can you help me? Shit.” Anger burns inside me, although I realize it’s not her fault my situation is so bad. “Just forget it.”

“How do you expect me to understand,” she says, “when you won’t talk about it?”

“You want me to talk about it?” My heart pounds. “Really? How about I often wished it was my father who’d died in the accident and not yours? How about telling you how lucky you are. That it’s better to have a good father who’s dead rather than a bad one forever?”

Her face pales. “Stop.”

“Why?” Anger sizzles through me. “Isn’t this what you wanted to hear?”

“That I should be thankful my dad’s dead?” She stumbles on the last word and the pain in her voice rips me up like a blade. “Do you have any idea how much I loved him? How empty my life is without him?”

“Can’t say I do.”

She hisses, her eyes wet. “How can you say that?”

“You asked, Auds.” I guess now is the point where she leaves, slamming the door behind her, as she should. My voice drops to a whisper as the anger drains out of me. “You said you wanted to understand. So understand this: I can’t imagine what you had with your dad, because I don’t have it with mine. Never have. All I know is, you have good memories. And that’s something.”

Tears roll down her cheeks and I want to slam my fists into the wall and yell out my frustration. She can’t understand me.

But she hasn’t run away, either. I suck in a deep breath, then I reach out and pull her to me.

“I’m sorry.” I tuck her head under my chin and just hold onto her as small shudders go through her body. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

After a while, she draws back enough to look up at me. “It’s okay. I think...” She swallows hard. “We have some catching up to do. Why don’t you come over to my place tomorrow? I’ll cook and we’ll figure it out.”

I can only stare at her. She really wants to help me, doesn’t she? Even after the horrible things I said.

Her lips are red, well kissed, but I want to kiss her again. I desperately want to sink into her and forget about the world and all its problems. My lips brush over hers until her lashes flutter.

“You have me, Ash,” she whispers. “Not only Zane. For anything you need. I want to be here for you, too. Please, say you’ll come by tomorrow.”

I nod. How can I refuse someone so brave?

A smile breaks over her face, lighting up her eyes. “See you tomorrow, then.”

I just stand there as she walks out of Zane’s apartment.
Fuck.
What the hell am I doing? And why can’t I stop?

***

I sleep badly, nightmares waking me up at the crack of dawn. I spend the morning thinking, turning my situation over and over again in my mind. It doesn’t change. I’ll either join the fight club or find myself on the streets.

Why can’t I see another choice?

Zane can’t help me. Can Audrey help me, as she said? Maybe she has an idea of where I can stay until I get a legal job?

Hope sparks inside me, making me restless. I’m expected tonight at The Bulldog where I’ll have to convince the owners to let me fight. Should I not go? Should I trust Audrey to help?

How can she? She lives in an entirely different world. Sheltered. Protected.

But maybe that’s the whole idea. She knows people,
good
people—unlike me. Perhaps she knows someone else who might help me.

Fucking hope.
It burns inside me, twisting my stomach and tensing me up.

Somewhere around the time I shower and pull on a shirt, I’ve decided two things:

I want to talk to Audrey before I go through with my decision. She deserves to know more about me, and maybe she does have an idea on how to help me out of this impasse.

And second, I’m going to kiss her, and touch her, and taste her and bury myself in her until she can’t walk straight.

Fuck me, the thought makes me so hard I could come in my pants any second now.

A search of Zane’s apartment reveals his electric hair trimmers and I spend some time in front of the bathroom mirror, cutting my hair until it’s but a millimeter long at the sides and longer on top. Then I filch some of Zane’s gels—he has an impressive collection of them, necessary for his gravity-defying Mohawk—and spike the top.

Fight club or not, I want this day to be a turning point. Besides, the notion of talking to Audrey, laying out my problems and asking for her help has my gut in twists just as bad as the idea of fighting.

But a decision has to be made. Zane and Erin will be back in a day or two, and I’ll have to go. I’ll be back on the streets if I don’t find a solution.

I pull on my jeans, a black sweater, boots, and my jacket. Dressed in clean clothes—
my
clothes, for a change—with my cell and wallet in my pocket, I feel as close to normal as I have in weeks. I feel human.

I’m out the door before I change my mind, and I find myself standing outside Audrey’s apartment a little after midday.

I shift from foot to foot; wipe my hands down my jeans. Release a long breath. Try my best to look relaxed and cool as I ring the bell.

The door doesn’t open immediately. In fact, for a long while I hear nothing and I frown, wondering if I misunderstood what Audrey said—or if she changed her mind.

Dammit. My fault.
I touched her, kissed her, and then drove her away. Serves me right. I should’ve opened up to her from the start, and instead I shouted at her, made her feel bad, and let her go.