Oh. Fuck.
Movement beside me makes me still and I look around feeling crazed as I realize I’m not in my own room. Slapping my hand over my mouth I stifle a scream, my eyes finally registering who’s been next to me all along. My eyes start at his covered legs, the sheet pressing against his form like a whisper stopping at his hips. The lines of muscle at his abdomen, his broad chest and shoulders, his strong neck, proud chin and the planes of his face are all devoured by my eyes next. His full lips are parted; dark lashes concealing an indigo gaze that has the power to make me breathless when it’s concentrated on me. His arms are thrown haphazardly over his head, dark hair unruly, face almost boyish in sleep. He presents one hell of a picture.
I’m not going to lie, there’s a moment when I can’t decide if I want to throw up or stand up so I can dance like a football player scoring a touchdown. I’m in bed with Asher. I’m in bed with Asher Fucking Charming. I’m not just in bed with Asher Fucking Charming, I fucked Asher Charming if memory serves correctly. Thoroughly too. I almost giggle at the absurd thought.
Looking under the sheet at myself once more, then back at him, I shake my head in disbelief. Oh my god, I’m naked in a bed with Asher Fucking Charming. That’s when more memories swallow me. Stumbling into his room, laughing and breathless. Clothing being removed one piece at a time, touching, exploring, tasting, but also smiling, laughing and feeling. God, so much feeling, even while completely intoxicated and I remember feeling…home.
Panic sets in. Turning to Asher, I begin to freak out and I’m sure as hell not going to do it alone. “Asher! Wake up!”
He groans, likely feeling the effects from last night as well, but when I say his name again, his eyes pop open. As soon as he focuses on me, he smiles. Not exactly what I was expecting. “Hello, gorgeous.”
I’m momentarily speechless, as he stretches and I watch all the muscles roll under his skin. The sheet shifts lower on his hips and my breath catches in anticipation. Glancing at him, I realize he’s watching me with a smirk and I flush at being caught staring. Grabbing the comforter off the end of the bed, I awkwardly wrap it around my body and stand up needing a little distance, otherwise I’m likely to straddle his hips and make him right at home. Oh good lord. “Asher, what did we do last night?”
A slow, wicked smile lifts the corners of his mouth and his eyes twinkle as he sits up in bed. “If you don’t remember, clearly I’m going to need to refresh your memory. I know we were both wasted, but come on princess you wound me, even I remember last night.”
Heat sears my face and chest at his words. Turning away I clear my throat and try to remember what I was asking him as images of us twisted together naked enter my mind. Somehow snapping out of it, I force myself to look at him once again, not that it’s a chore, I mean damn. I almost groan when I see he’s sitting against the headboard with the sheet at an indecent level. This is impossible. Shaking my head, I frown, “Stop using your sex mojo on me and pay attention.”
He snorts, “Sex mojo?”
“Yeah, that’s what I said. Stop distracting me.”
“If I was trying to distract you I wouldn’t be in this bed all alone.”
Stomping my foot like a toddler, I huff out a breath in exasperation. “Will you be serious?”
“I’m always serious about sex.”
I have to force myself not to give in and smile. “Alright, pause the testosterone for two seconds and answer my question. Do you have memories of everything we did last night?” He starts to smile seductively again, but I cut him off with a flick of my hand, “Do you have memories of last night before we got to the bedroom?”
He frowns at me, “Of course.”
Frowning myself, I shake my head, “I don’t think you do.”
Asher’s phone begins beeping and vibrating again. He glances at it briefly, but ignores it looking back at me. “We were on the beach, we drank, danced, went to a club-” he stops talking when his phone starts going off again. As if on cue, mine starts in again. Clutching it tightly in my hand, I’m momentarily distracted when I look at the screen and see another text message from Katie, “Please tell me the reason you aren’t calling me right now is because you’re on his cock. Check out this picture on the front of Hollywood Today’s website.” Attached is a photo of Asher and I kissing. I’m holding flowers in my hand and have another in my hair. I’m the one that posted it, as the photo shows my Facebook information. The caption I posted with the photo reads, “Just married, bitches!”
“Oh my god,” I say, then look at Asher, “Oh god. I’m so sorry. So, so sorry.”
“Why? What’s wrong?” Asher asks sitting forward with concern lacing his voice.
My eyes widen with horror, “Oh god, this is going to be the biggest media nightmare for you. A damn circus.” His phone starts going off again as if verifying my point.
Asher gets out of bed and walks toward me, and good god he’s naked. And he’s glorious. Once again, I’m distracted. My eyes roam all over his body and I feel breathless at the sight. He grasps my upper arms softly, “Ella?” My eyes find his and I’m lost in his gaze. “What’s going on? Why are you so upset?”
Without another word, I swallow hard, then turn my phone to him in order to show him the photo Katie sent me. His brow lowers and I stare at his face for a moment, dissecting every twitch and furrow. Holding up my other hand, I show him the silver ring I’m wearing, it’s glinting emphasizing the photo. I remember how after we had our brilliant idea to get married, we stopped at a vendor’s booth that sold jewelry and looked for matching rings and found a pair within minutes. Reaching for his hand, I grab it and hold it up for him to see. No words needed, the picture and our rings clear enough.
He looks at his ring, and I swear I see a twitch at his lips and something flash in his eyes that I can’t decipher. “I’m sorry,” I whisper again not knowing what else to say, and turning my head away not wanting to see the look on his face. I don’t know what else to say to him, anything else seems inadequate.
“You’re upset that we got married?”
My head spins around so fast my neck aches. “You remember?” He nods and this time, he does smile. “And you aren’t upset?” I ask, my voice rising at the question in disbelief and confusion.
He shrugs, “It was my idea. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me. Remember?”
Staring at him, at the curve of his lips, the look in his eyes, the memory comes to me easily. We were walking through the streets, looking at all the little shops and clubs. Workers of each place were trying to get us to come inside their establishment, some being pushy, some using humor, and others both. Asher’s hand was in mine, steadying me as I hobbled on my feet a bit. He turned to me, his eyes full of question. “All night, you smile here,” he says fingers brushing my lips, “but at times I can see pain in here,” his thumb brushes the underside of each eye gently. “I see stress or sadness here,” he touches the lines between my brows next. “Tell me why. Tell me how I can make it go away.”
And I tell him. I tell him about my disastrous relationship, the back stabbing betrayal, my sham of an engagement, and the circus of a wedding. I tell him how Katie and I decided to run away and that in a way I feel guilty that I don’t feel worse. It’s like I had my cry, felt the rage, but then was able to let go. I remember him turning to me, laughter still on his face after I told him about punching Jeremy and even showed him the bruises still lacing my knuckles. His face lit up with his idea, “Well, we’ll just show him. How about you and I get married? Nothing says I’ve moved on better, right?”
I laughed and told him it was the best idea ever. We efficiently bought rings, found a little chapel open for just such occasions and said ‘I do’ in no time. We took all kinds of selfies, bought a picture package if I recall and came back here and had wild monkey sex. We didn’t waste any time consummating the marriage that’s for sure. Over and over, if memory serves. I could be embarrassed about that, but hell, who would blame me?
“It may have been your idea as a joke, but clearly I’m the one that posted pictures and told the world and oh god, that is totally your publicist or agent calling isn’t it? I bet they’re going to be so pissed. No doubt they are calling with ideas and instructions on how to get rid of me and the evidence of this insanity.” Okay yeah. I’m pretty sure I’ve just entered hysterical territory.
And Asher? Well he shocks me, because he laughs. “Princess, calm down. I remember every detail about last night. Every detail.” He says enunciating the last two words with such emphasis while looking me up and down lustfully. Chills break out over my body and I pull the comforter tighter around me as if that will help fight them off. “I could care less what my publicist or anyone else has to say about this, they don’t own me.” I stare at him open-mouthed not able to form words in the slightest. “They can keep calling all they want,” he grabs his phone and just as it starts vibrating again in his hand, he powers it off.
“You aren’t mad? How are you not mad?”
He shrugs, “I’m just not.”
“But, I can’t even imagine the kind of field day the press will have over this. It will screw up your career.”
He scoffs, “Says who?” He runs the tips of his fingers down my arms making me shudder. “Look it’s not a big deal. So we got drunk and decided to get married, oh well. You know what I remember about last night? I remember having fun – with you. The most fun I’ve had in…I don’t even know how long. Getting to know someone without pressure and expectations, acting spontaneously and genuinely enjoying myself? It’s been far too long.”
“Getting to know someone is one thing, but we’ve known one another all of five minutes and we’ve had sex and are married. Oh god, I’m like the world’s biggest whore.”
Humor fades from his face and his jaw tightens, “Stop that. No matter what happens, I won’t have you talking about yourself in that way. Not ever. Look,” his thumb traces my jaw and I get the feeling he likes touching me. “How much longer are you here again? Another week right?”
“Yes. Katie leaves tomorrow night. I’d like to spend some time with her before she goes, but I’m still here another week. Alone.”
He smiles, “Perfect. This week, let’s have fun together. I want to have more moments with you like we enjoyed last night. I want to know more about you, I want to do things with you like swim, snorkel, eat amazing food and get suntans, walk on the beach, and if I’m a lucky bastard make love to you again.” How I remain standing after that comment, I have no idea. “When this week is over, we’ll worry about the marriage thing, but for now, let’s just be Asher and Ella. Be mine for this week. Let’s just have fun together, please? Will you do that, Ella?”
He’s serious. The set of his jaw, the look in his eyes, and determination on his face tell me that much. But there’s more to it than that. From our talks last night and the earnestness with his question today, there’s something more. It’s the way he talks about last night, it’s almost wistful, and his words are full of longing and maybe a hint of desperation. I get the feeling if I say no, he’ll plead with me to change my mind. He says he wants to have fun, no pressure, but I think he’s also lonely. And I find myself amazed that someone with a life like his, a movie star, surrounded by people that cater to his every whim, money coming out his ears, could experience something such as loneliness. But isn’t that the thing? Sometimes it’s when you’re surrounded that you feel the most lost, the most alone. Especially when you’re surrounded with falseness and insincerity. I know what that’s like.
Last night, I had fun too. I never once thought about Jeremy until Asher asked about why I seem to be carrying stress. I never felt sad or ashamed or guilty like I shouldn’t be enjoying my time with him. And yes, I made one hell of a mistake in getting married, but that can be fixed. How many chances like this happen in a lifetime? None. Yeah, he may be Asher Charming, and I’d be lying if I didn’t say that the thought of being with him doesn’t make me halfway delirious, but it’s more than that. It’s the chance to have fun, to forget. It’s the chance to let myself simply live and enjoy life with a gorgeous man by my side for a week. A week where our experiences will make memories, and gain me a friend, that will hopefully last a lifetime. We can just have fun, no pressure, no strings.
He runs his fingertips up and down my arms as he’s waiting for my answer. My phone is continuing to chime and I give it a glance and throw it on the bed. With a nod, I look into his eyes, “Can I ask one question first?”
“Of course.”
“Why? Why spend a week together?”
“I can read you, and I know that you feel whatever this is between us, just like I do. I also know that you had fun last night, just like me. More than fun. We have a connection, a real connection, and as if that’s not enough, you’re different. You treat me, like me. I’m a guy, incredibly attracted and intrigued by a girl and I’m not ready to let go of this feeling. Yeah, so we skipped a few steps,” I roll my eyes at his flippancy and he laughs. “Like I said, we can handle that later, if necessary, until then, let’s make the most of it. You’re real, and genuine, and it’s been one hell of a long time since I’ve gotten to spend time in the company of a woman with those attributes. And I find that I like it. I like you.”
“I like you too,” I reply honestly.
He smiles and it lights up his face. “So you agree? Let’s not worry about our uh, event last night, and just enjoy each other, okay?”
Nodding, I return his smile, “You know what? That sounds perfect.” Though I can’t help but think, even momentarily, of the ‘if necessary’ phrase he included in his passionate plea for us to just resume where we left off.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I nod.
With a smile, he leans forward, puts his arms around me, and kisses me, and with that, all traces of worry fade away.
“Spill it. Spill it now.” The door flies open the second I insert my key in the lock. Katie’s clearly been lying in wait ready to pounce the moment I return.
With a small smile, I plead, “I promise I will tell you everything, but let’s get ready first and go to the pool. I want some sunshine.”
She agrees but evidences extreme effort as she keeps opening her mouth then shutting it again when she catches herself. We hastily get ready, change clothes, and gather our beach supplies. At times when I turn and catch Katie’s eye, I see she’s staring at me. I know she’s dying for information, an explanation. I, on the other hand, am thinking about Asher. When we parted ways, we agreed to meet up at the pool. I awkwardly gathered my clothes from around the room and went to the bathroom to dress and splashed water on my face. With a smile, wave and promise to see him soon, I ran off to my room. I’m already feeling eager to see him again.
On the walk to the pool, several workers on the property smile and greet us with an, “Hola,” as we pass. I swear a few of them wear knowing smirks, but no doubt I’m paranoid. This whole thing is crazy, so of course I feel like everyone and anyone knows about it. Well, actually, I guess anyone could thanks to my informative Facebook post. I’m such an idiot.
Katie and I grab chairs and push them close together. After applying sunblock we lay on our stomachs, heads turned toward one another, enjoying the sunshine on our skin while I divulge everything. Once finished, Katie stares at me with her mouth wide open. What a unique expression for her. It’s been her nearly permanent expression since I returned to the room this morning. I’m starting to worry that she’s going to wear a shocked look on her face forever.
Finally she speaks. “Holy shit.”
“Wow, that’s it? I think I was expecting something… I don’t know… more profound.”
“Holy fucking shit?”
“Mhm, a little better.”
“Ha. Ha. I just can’t believe you got married. It’s awesome and insane at the same time. I mean, not only did you get married, but you posted a picture that’s already had over a million shares and been picked up
by who knows how many gossip websites and trashy magazines.”
“Oh god. I think I’m going to be sick,” I roll over to my back and place a hand on my stomach suddenly feeling queasy. “Obviously, I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“Or, maybe you were. Maybe you do your best thinking when you’re drinking because hell girlfriend, good job. You married Asher Charming. Or should I call him Jack Danger? Do you think he’ll want you to call him Jack Danger in bed?”
“Oh my god, will you shut up? Jack Danger is just the character he plays in all those movies, not his name. You know that. Besides, we’re going to hang out for the week and then we’ll no doubt win some record for the shortest marriage ever.”
“No, I think you’re wrong,” she replies as she unscrews the lid on her bottle of water, “I’m pretty sure that reality star with the fake tits and ass that looks like her face is melting when she cries, was married for like forty-eight hours one time. So don’t worry, she’s got you beat.”
“Oh great, thanks,” I reply, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Because that’s who I want to emulate.”
“Hey, if the shoe fits.”
“Bitch,” I call her, but she only laughs out loud and it makes me smile even though I pretend to be angry. “It sucks that I have to leave tomorrow. You are going to spend the week with Jack Danger, right? Man, I would love to stay here so I can watch.”
“Will you stop calling him that? It’s not funny and he’s just a guy who happens to have a job that a lot of people get to see. It’s not a big deal.” I’m not sure if I’m trying to convince her or myself. “And yes, like I told you, he asked me to spend time with him this week and I agreed. Afterwards, he’ll take care of everything regarding our…um… our…”
“Marriage?”
“Yeah,” I clear my throat uncomfortably, “that.”
Charming: A Modern Day Sexy Cinderella Story Page 8