“What time was that? How long were you out in the rain?” he fires off, making me shake my head in exasperation.
“About an hour. I got here just before nine. Then, after the asshat kicked me out, I figured I’d be better off going back to my old place and maybe you’d look for me there. I would have found a cafe or somewhere to wait, but I’m not familiar with anything in this area except the train station and I didn’t want to get lost in the dark. I couldn’t call you and didn’t know where you worked to call your office, so it seemed like the best option.”
He nods, conceding the point, but I don’t miss the way his hand tightens around the glass of wine he takes a healthy slug from.
“So, you caught the train and got mugged before you made it back to your old place?” he prompts.
“No, I didn’t even make it on to the train. Someone grabbed me just as I got to the station and yanked me behind one of those freestanding billboards. I don’t know why that stuck in my head, but for some reason, I was even more pissed about the prospect of being mugged behind a sign advertising hemorrhoid cream.”
He doesn’t smile, so I quickly carry on.
“Some skinny guy in black jeans and a black hoodie, with this hood pulled down low over his face, yanked my bag. It was one of those over the body ones so that move wasn’t as effective as he had hoped it would be. That just pissed him off. We struggled. He punched me, though I managed to turn and deflect the full brunt of it before he caught me in the lip with his elbow.”
Asher grunts, his grip tightening on my calves at my words. Seeing how pissed he is about me getting hurt, just endears him to me even more.
“He um…cut the strap in the end, and as soon as he had the bag, he ran,” I finish quietly, his body going rock solid.
“He cut the strap?” Asher repeats, his voice taking on a sharp tone. “He had a fucking knife?”
He jumps from the stool and starts pacing, his hands gripping his hair in agitation.
“Asher, I’m okay. I was admittedly freaked out when it happened, but you’ve done nothing but make me feel safe the second I stepped through those glass doors downstairs.”
He stalks back over to me, crowding me against the counter as he bends so that his eyes are level with mine.
“Somebody put their fucking hands on you, Skittle. They threatened you with a goddamn fucking knife and made you bleed, and I was in my office, twiddling my thumbs. I could have lost you before I even had—”
I press my lips against his, closing the last of the distance between us and cutting off his words. My lip stings a little, but I ignore it, reveling in the taste of him.
I had planned to take this thing between us slowly but seeing him so worried about me does strange things to my insides. It's been a long time since someone showed me such concern. He resists for a moment before giving in with a groan, wrapping a hand in my hair and tilting my head back to give him better access.
“What you do to me,” he mumbles to himself before I’m up and in his arms. I wrap my legs around his waist and hold on tight as he walks us toward the bedroom. My stomach twists into knots as a kaleidoscope of butterflies try to break free from within me.
Once inside the bedroom, he places me gently on my feet before forcibly taking a step back.
“You make me forget myself,” he sighs with a shake of his head.
I take a step toward him, trying to close the distance between us, but he holds up his hand to ward me off.
“I’m hanging on by a thread here, Skittle, and as much as I want to feel your hot, slick heat around me once more, I swore to myself I wasn’t going to rush this. I don’t ever want you to regret this or think I only want you for convenient sex. When you do let me back inside you, I want it to be because you are one hundred percent sure about this marriage.”
“But—”
He shakes his head, and my shoulders slump in defeat.
“Time for bed, Skittle,” he tells me with a no-nonsense tone. “I’m going to make sure everything is turned off and locked up.” He disappears before I can say anything else.
Frustrated, I storm into the bathroom and brush my teeth. I get where he’s coming from. On some level, I even think it's sweet, but the overriding emotions I’m feeling right now are horny and pissed off. I’m a big girl, I can make my own decision, and it rankles me when someone decides what's best for me as if I can’t figure that shit out for myself.
I stomp back out to the bedroom and sigh when I take in the giant, empty bed.
I’m being unfair, and he’s right, it's been a rough night. Will I still be feeling so reckless in the morning when I’ve had a chance to sleep on everything?
Pulling back the thick quilt, I climb in, enjoying the expensive sheets against my bare legs. Not knowing which side he likes to sleep on, I roll myself into the middle with the plan to move when he comes back and tells me which side he prefers.
Alas, that's the last thing I remember before waking up to the sun shining in through the bedroom windows, finding myself in the same spot I fell asleep in.
And completely alone.
Eighteen
Asher
Typing away in my office at the proposal I’m working on, I try to keep myself busy and away from the delectable woman currently sleeping in my bed.
Last night I took the coward's way out and went to bed after she fell asleep and left before she woke. I don’t trust myself around her and pushing her too far too fast is not something I want to risk.
I pour over the documents until the words blur together and my eyes feel like they are bleeding, but the information might as well be written in Sanskrit. Nothing seems to pull my focus away from the woman who tests my control like no other.
“Hey.”
I look up at the sound of her voice and see the object of my obsession leaning against the doorframe with a cup of coffee in her hand.
“Morning, Skittle, any more coffee?” I ask, dragging my eyes over her smooth, toned legs that disappear under the hem of one of my white button-up shirts.
“Here.” She walks forward and hands her coffee to me, which I take with a grateful smile.
“Thank you.” My fingers grip the cup hard so I don’t yank her to me like I really want to. “How’s the face?”
“It's fine. It doesn’t bother me unless I touch it.”
She watches me for a moment, twisting on her feet a little like she's debating what she wants to say next.
“Why didn’t you come to bed last night?” she questions softly, her gaze locked intently on mine.
“I did. You were fast asleep, and I had to get up early this morning to sort out this proposal I have in the works.” Everything I said is true, it's just not the entire reason I’ve been avoiding her.
"Ah, so it isn't me, it's you?" she says with a wry smile, making me sigh.
Fuck it. Placing my cup on the table, I pull her into my lap like I wanted to the second she walked through the door.
“It's not you, Skittle. I slept better with you in my arms than I have for as long as I can remember, but I don't trust myself around you. I don't want to push you too far too soon—”