Asher (Wolves of Winter's Edge Book 3)

by T. S. Joyce

  Asher groaned softly and rested his morning wood more securely against her butt. And her body, that little ho, arched back against him like a happy cat being petted.

  His hand went from relaxed to gripping her waist in an instant. When he pulled her against his hips, her stomach did huge flip-flops with how fucking sexy this was.

  It helped that she couldn’t see his face here in the gray light of dawn. He was behind her, and this felt safer. She was free to let him touch her because she could pretend this wasn’t real.

  When his lips pressed onto the back of her neck, though, she was done. A small whimper crawled up her throat, and she rolled her hips back again and pulled the covers over their waists. Without a second of hesitation, Asher slid his hand down her thigh, then up her nightgown and into the front of her panties.

  As he pushed his finger into her, she softly moaned, “Asher.”

  He tensed, but then shoved his other arm under her, wrapped it around her waist and pulled her back against him, hard. There was a soft sound in his throat as he sucked on the back of her neck. A wild sound. She liked it.

  Out of desperation for him to go faster, she rested her hand over his between her legs, but he bit her gently, and the feral sound got a bit louder. Let me. She could almost hear his words whispering through her mind. Chills lifted on her skin, and if she hadn’t been in the throes of passion, perhaps that instinct would’ve made her more careful with him. But as it stood, he was very, very good at what he was doing between her thighs, and she’d lost her damn mind completely.

  She was close already, spurred on by his hard erection bucking against her back. God, he was so close to her, but so far away, separated by clothes. She hated their clothes. She wanted to burn them for keeping them apart.

  “More,” she whispered.

  Asher shook his head against the back of her neck in denial, his beard rasping against her sensitive skin.

  They were moving together now, him against her back, her hips rolling against his hand. So natural. So good. Ashlyn let off a helpless sound every time his finger went deep enough and his hand touched her clit. He added a second finger, and she reached up over her shoulder, gripped the back of his neck, and closed her eyes to the world. Closed her eyes to everything so she could savor this incredible erotic sensation this man was filling her with.

  Asher was grinding so hard against her back now, faster, jerkier. He had to be close, too, and it got her off even more. He plunged his fingers into her again and again, and she was done. Gone. Floating. When the first deep pulses of her orgasm blasted through her body, she cried out.

  Asher eased off her back just enough to move his pants down and ruck her nightgown up to her shoulders. When he pressed against her again, she could feel his dick. So hard, and his strokes were fast and powerful against her spine. And as her aftershocks intensified, warmth spilled from him and coated her back. God, this was so hot. The sound in his throat was sexy as hell, and she’d never had an orgasm this blindingly pleasurable.

  “Fuck,” he growled out as he froze against her back, his dick still throbbing. In a rush, he bolted from the bed. One second he was wrapped around her body, cradling her, hand in her panties, fingers inside of her, every inch of his torso pressed against her back. And then, he was just…gone.

  Ashlyn turned around and frowned at the door, but Asher was already out of the room. He’d fled like his tail had been set on fire. Great bouncing gonads, that man was fast. If she hadn’t been covered in Asher-juice right now, she would’ve tried to convince herself she’d just had an erotic dream or something.

  She started to feel sick. Nauseous sick. The kind that made her curl into herself and retch. Right behind her eyes was a stabbing pain of a headache, and her muscles ached like she’d run three miles.

  Dizzy, she lay there staring at the door. She didn’t want to move for fear of everything going haywire again. Her skin was covered in a cold sweat, and she couldn’t stop shaking if her life depended on it.

  And then just like that, the hurt stopped. Just…vanished. Carefully, Ashlyn sat up, clutching the covers to her chest.

  What the hell had just happened? She hadn’t fooled around with a stranger like that since college. She’d deemed that time period the Scandalous Years. But all Asher had to do was almost kiss her last night and then lie against her this morning, and she buckled?

  That man was some kind of magic.

  Frowning so deeply her face hurt, she stood with the covers still wrapped around her like a burrito, and she padded to the door. She closed it gently and stepped back. There was a black duffle bag in the corner she hadn’t noticed last night. Crap. This wasn’t the guest room after all. This must’ve been Asher’s room.

  Cheeks on fire, she bustled into the on suite bathroom and turned on the tap water. She kept waiting for that dirty feeling to show up—the one where she’d gone too far with a boy and had regrets—but it didn’t appear. Strange, because Asher had bolted like he couldn’t get away from her fast enough. She should feel mortified right now, but mostly, she was just baffled by the man.

  Why had he been sleeping beside her? Bitey, growly, mysterious man, who made her body revolt just by leaving her—Asher was an enigma she was suddenly desperate to learn more about.

  But she shouldn’t. This wasn’t about her chasing a guy. This trip was about Blaire, and Ashlyn couldn’t get snared into staying here longer out of curiosity for Asher.

  She needed to shower, meet up with Blaire and her new-best-friend-Mila, eat some pancakes, and focus on dragging Blaire back to civilization.

  Gentry was a magician, clearly, who mucked with Blaire’s mind.

  Roman was a mouthy nudist.

  And Asher was the scariest of all. He was too interesting for his own good, too sexy, and too beguiling.

  The sooner Ashlyn got Blaire on the road to the airport and escaped this weird-ass town, the better.

  She showered and readied for the day in a daze, her mind circling round and round what had happened in bed. Her body was still revved up, wanting more, desiring something she couldn’t understand with a man who was utterly dangerous to her heart. He’d shown his colors. Asher Striker was a runner. She’d barely spoken to him, but already he’d run three times. The first few minutes she’d met him, he’d tried to escape into the house, then he’d almost kissed her in the dark and gone straight out the back door, and then there was this morning. That was an epic flee. Spooge on her back and then sprint for the door?

  She needed to stop thinking about him asap.

  Once she made it downstairs, hitting every damn, creaky board on the way down, the living room and kitchen were empty. Thank goodness! With a sigh of relief, she pulled on her pink jacket, flipped off the pink ski pants Asher had made fun of, then made her way out the front door as she wrapped a purple scarf around her neck.

  She felt better the second she stepped out into the crisp mountain air. Inhaling noisily, she closed her eyes and let the wind touch her cheeks. This was good. Positive thinking conjured positive results. She could do this. Blaire would be convinced today how very un-normal her behavior was, and they would laugh about this over cocktails at their favorite bar back home in a month’s time.

  Shifting her oversize purse onto her shoulder, Ashlyn turned for the porch steps, but froze in her tracks when she spied the giant sitting on the swing. Asher was still, watching her with eyes such a light blue it was hard to look at them, and just as hard to look away.

  He wore a black sweater that clung to the curves of his muscular arms. The neck was wider, showing a peek at a curve of ink she couldn’t read under his left collarbone. His lips were pursed into a thin line under his blond beard, and his fair brows were lowered and troubled looking.

  “H-hi,” she said lamely.

  “Are you okay?” His voice came out gruff, as if he hadn’t used it in a while.

  It was a strange question, and one she hadn’t expected, so she shrugged up one shoulder. “What do you mean
?”

  “Are you sick?”

  “Like perverted? I mean…maybe a little.” Lie, she was one hundred percent perverted.

  Asher’s lip twisted up into a fast smile right before he ducked his gaze to the steaming mug of coffee cupped in his massive hands. He was hiding it, but she’d seen the hint of a grin, and something inside of her grew desperate to see it again.

  “I meant, do you feel well this morning?” Nope, he wasn’t even trying to look at her anymore.

  She should go. Just…walk to her car and speed out of the icy parking lot and not look back. But as rough around the edges as Asher seemed with his muscles and tattoos and his tendency to bolt the second things got real, he had been gentle during the almost kiss last night, and had made sure she had an orgasm before he took care of himself this morning. And he was sitting here, perhaps waiting for her, and asking if she was okay. To her, that counted for something. So Ashlyn went against her better judgement and made her way to the swing, hesitated only a moment before she sat beside him stiffly.

  “I feel…confused.”

  Asher handed her the mug of coffee without looking at her. A peace offering? Or an apology perhaps because he wasn’t responding.

  Okay. She took the mug and tried again. “Was I sleeping in your bedroom?”

  “My dad’s bedroom,” he said, twitching his head and staring out across the property toward a frozen lake.

  “Where is your dad?”

  Asher slid her an icy look, then flicked his gaze to something beside her before he gave his attention again to his clasped hands dangling between his knees.

  For some reason, Ashlyn didn’t want to turn around and look beside her. The temperature seemed to drop ten degrees in an instant, and instinctively, she scooted closer to Asher.

  “What happened this morning...” He clenched his jaw and leveled her with that frosty blue look. “It was a mistake. A moment of weakness. You’re so… I messed up, but I’ll be more careful.”

  “Careful not to accidentally finger-bang me?” she teased nervously.

  Asher jerked his chin to her coffee. “Drink. You’re shivering.”

  “I don’t like black coffee, remember?”

  “Pretend it’s hot chocolate.”

  “You’re bossy.”

  “You probably haven’t minded anyone in your whole life.”

  “I’m grown. Why would I need to mind anyone?” God, he was frustrating.

  “If I gave you a warning…one that could save your life…would you mind me then?”

  Well, that was different. “Maybe.”

  Asher looked sick when he said, “Stay away from me.”

  And then he stood and made his way inside, leaving her swaying on the swing in a baffled daze.

  And there it was. Again.

  Asher Striker had just run for the fourth time.

  Chapter Six

  “You’ve hardly touched any of your waffles,” Blaire pointed out.

  Ashlyn dragged her attention from the snowy scenery outside and made a show of cutting off another piece.

  “Are you okay?” Blaire asked.

  The answer was hell no. She was confused out of her mind by Asher. And she’d just listened to a fifteen-minute laugh-fest between Blaire and Mila about a dozen inside jokes that Ashlyn could only guess at, and she felt like the odd woman out. Again. She couldn’t say that without turning the conversation weird, though, so instead she said, “It’s really beautiful out here.”

  Mila cleared her throat delicately. “You should see it in the spring and summer. It’s stunning. So green you wouldn’t believe, and in the fall, we have some of the prettiest color changes in the leaves in the whole world. Tourists flock here just to see it.”

  Ashlyn smiled politely at her replacement. “That sounds nice.”

  Mila dipped her soft brown eyes to her plate. “I think I’m going to go to the bathroom. Give you two some time together.” She gave an empty smile and excused herself.

  “Do you not like Mila?” Blaire asked quietly. “She’s trying.”

  “I’m sure she’s fine, but you have to understand it from my perspective, Blaire. You just up and left me. Left. Me. You don’t call or answer my texts half the time.”

  “Because there are things about my life you won’t understand now, and I don’t know how to talk to you.”

  “Great. Shut me out then, Blaire. That makes this so much easier. And then I come here, and you’ve got a new best friend and this new life, and you’re so different.”

  “Different how?”

  Ashlyn wanted to pop off. She wanted to call her naïve, but that word wouldn’t feel right. Not since she’d noticed something else over breakfast, something that scared her even more. Something that made her think she really had lost her best friend. With a sigh, Ashlyn crossed her arms over her chest and murmured, “You seem happier. More self-assured. Less stressed. You even look refreshed. You smile a lot more, speak clearer, and I can tell the divorce is in your rearview mirror. I pushed for that for so long, but it took you coming here and meeting new friends to get to a good place. I guess I feel left behind.”

  Blaire’s heart was in her eyes, and her bottom lip trembled like she was going to cry. Aw, crap. Ashlyn draped her arm around her shoulders and pulled her in close. She rested her cheek on top of Blaire’s fiery hair and muttered, “This is the part where I’m supposed to bow out graciously, right? Where I’m supposed to be one hundred percent happy for you and pout quietly where you can’t see it, because you deserve this happiness, Blaire. You deserve to find a man who treats you like a queen, and it seems like Gentry does. I mean, it’s kind of gross how he called up here and paid for the breakfast, but it’s also pretty sweet, and they should put that shit in romantic movies. Springing for these terrible mimosas was a pretty slick move, too,” she said, gesturing to the mason jar of orange juice and cheap champagne, the best Jack’s had to offer. “I mean, Matt used to block us from having girl days, and Gentry seems to support you living your life, and—”

  Blaire hugged her tight and nearly cut off her air. “He’s amazing, Ashlyn. You’ll see. Just stay a few days and really get to know the people here. You won’t worry for me anymore, and we can just go back to the way things were. I’ll do better about answering my phone, and everything will be okay. You’ll see. I’m sorry.”

  And now Ashlyn was blinking back tears because Blaire’s apology meant the world. She was the best friend she’d ever had.

  “Look, the grand opening for Winter’s Edge is happening in a week. Stay for that. Stay for the party! You can go back home after that, but maybe a week will give you enough time to get to know Gentry, Mila, and Roman.”

  Ashlyn narrowed her eyes. “And Asher.”

  “Eeeeee,” Blaire said, easing away from her. “Asher’s a good one to steer clear of.”

  “Uuuh, why? Because I know you’re not just going to give me that little riddle and think I would leave it alone.”

  “He’s just…” Blaire pursed her lips and rolled her eyes to the ceiling like she was searching for the right word. “Better when he’s alone.”

  “Well, we fooled around this morning, so does that count as steering clear?”

  “What?” Blaire barked out way too loud.

  Ashlyn snorted. She’d always loved shocking Blaire. She got scandalized way too easily. “Not my fault.”

  “How is you fooling around with a rando not your fault,” Blaire whisper screamed.

  “He’s not a rando, B. He’s the hot brother of your someday baby daddy. We could be sisters.”

  “Oh my gosh.” Blaire looked panicked as Mila sat down across the table from them.

  “Everything okay?” Mila asked, concern pooling in her eyes.

  “No,” Blaire squeaked. “Ashlyn fooled around with Asher—”

  “Blaire!” Ashlyn admonished her. “For fuck’s sake, I didn’t want to tell the world.”

  “Wait, you and Asher?” Mila asked low, leaning f
orward. “Like…he willingly touched you?”

  “Well, I don’t have leprosy,” Ashlyn scoffed.

  “No, I’m not saying…shit, let me start over,” Mila muttered. “Asher doesn’t touch people.”

  “Well, I’m not people. I’m a voluptuous woman with a superior set of diddle-skills.”

  “No,” Blaire said. “Ashlyn, we’re serious. Asher doesn’t do touch. I didn’t even think he could. He’s a little…”

  “Terrifying,” Mila said, finishing Blaire’s sentence. Annoying.

  “Well, he touched me just fine, and I had a monster fucking orgasm. He isn’t terrifying, he’s just mysterious, or misunderstood, or I don’t know. You are both making me feel gross, and I shouldn’t. I’m a grown woman who slept beside a man—”

  “Wait, he slept by you?” Blaire hissed.

  “Oh my God, move, I need out. I can’t handle your judgement right now. You! The one who moved in with a man after you knew him for, like, fifteen seconds.”

  “That’s not what I mean. I’m not judging!”

  Blaire was blocking her from getting out, but Ashlyn was good and pissed, so okay, she would just go under the table. Stupid big tits got in the way as she slid down between the booth and the edge of the table. Squishing her boobs down, she melted off the booth and onto the floor, where she bumped her head and crawled across the tile, shoving Blaire and Mila’s legs out of the way as she went.

  Blaire grabbed her arm as she scrambled for the door, and damn, she was a lot stronger than Ashlyn remembered.

  “Ash, I’m not judging. I’m saying to be careful, but if Asher can touch you, it’s a big deal.”

  “Not polite.”

  “No, I mean it’s a big deal for him. Really, really big.” Blaire arched her ruddy brows and gave her a serious look.

  Ashlyn stood and dusted off her knees, cleared her throat, and straightened her scarf. “I want to know what’s going on.”

  Blaire parted her lips to say something, but Mila murmured, “Blaire. Don’t.”

  And her friend’s response was instant. Regret pooled in the green depths of her eyes, and she shook her head and shrugged an apology. “I wish I could tell you everything.”