Bad Habit (Bad Love Book 1)

by Charleigh Rose

  “It won’t hurt you,” Asher says, reading the thoughts that are written all over my face.

  I give a shaky nod and reach between us to run the tip of my finger across the bars, and Asher shudders when I graze the thin skin. I bite my lip, tentatively wrapping my fingers around him.

  “Harder,” he demands and wraps his much bigger hand around mine, roughly guiding my movements. Together, we work his length, and I notice a bead of moisture appear at the tip. Without thinking, I swirl my thumb, spreading it over his head, and Asher jerks in my hand.

  “Fuck,” he swears, snatching my wrist and pinning it to the mattress next to my head. “If any part of you doesn’t want this, you have two seconds to tell me to leave.” His eyebrows pull together, and his eyes search mine for doubt that he won’t find before roughly nudging my thighs apart with his knees. Then I feel him there, warm and unyielding, against my sensitive skin.

  “Condom?” Asher asks, dipping just the tip inside me. I wiggle closer, trying to get more. “Briar,” he snaps, forcing me to focus. “Condom.”

  “I’m on the pill,” I say. “And I’m clean.” I’ve only been with Jackson, and we used protection. I know Asher has had many partners, but some part of me still trusts him and believes he’d never truly put me at risk. He may do a lot of questionable things, but never that.

  “Me, too,” Ash says, still only giving me shallow thrusts that drive me crazy.

  “I want to feel you,” I whisper, wrapping my legs around him and pulling him into me. I lock eyes with pools of whiskey and jade, conflicted and guilt-ridden. “Please.”

  Asher’s control finally, finally, breaks, and his hips snap forward, filling me in one move. The air leaves my lungs in a whoosh, and I close my eyes, unprepared for how it would feel to have Asher inside me, both physically and emotionally.

  This. This is what I’ve been waiting for, and I could kill him for making us both suffer without this for so long. I tense and Asher pauses, buried to the hilt. He drops his forehead to mine while I adjust to the fullness. Slowly, so slowly, with more tenderness than I knew he was capable of, Asher starts to move. One of his hands comes up to cradle the back of my head, his elbow resting on the pillow, and the other one grips my thigh as he pumps into me. He was right about his piercing. I can feel something, but it doesn’t hurt at all.

  “Fuck, Bry,” he groans. “I need to move, but I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Hurt me. Please.” I love his tenderness, but I want his violence, his anger, his pain just as much.

  Ash’s jaw turns to stone, and his eyes fill with heat as he rises onto his knees and grips my middle, impaling me. I’m so full of him that it’s painful, but I’ll gladly take the pain because it means this is real.

  “So fucking good. I knew you’d be perfect,” Asher mumbles, looking down to where we’re connected. His hands that are almost completely wrapped around my waist control the tempo, making my boobs bounce, and then he lowers his head to suck on my tightened nipple. His bruised, swollen lips against me only gets me hotter, and I feel myself clench around him.

  “I’m not going to last if you keep doing that,” he warns before pulling me upright to straddle his lap. My hands fly to the back of his neck while he guides my movements with his fingers digging into my hips. My clit rubs against the base of him in this position, and I start to ride him, shamelessly, desperately.

  Ash mutters a curse and leans back on his palms. He sucks his lip in between his perfect, square teeth, watching me move on top of him. I rock my hips faster, about to shatter into a million tiny pieces, when I hear it.

  A knock on the door, followed by a familiar voice.

  “You awake in there, pretty girl?”

  Fuck. Adrian.

  My eyes shoot to the doorknob. Locked, thank God.

  Asher pushes me backward, and I yelp, causing him to cover my mouth with his hand. He settles in between my legs and immediately starts fucking me. Really fucking me.

  “Ignore him. You’re going to come on my cock,” he whispers darkly.

  My pleading eyes search his, and I shake my head.

  “I can’t anymore,” I mumble from beneath his fingers. Now that I know Adrian’s listening.

  “You can and you will.”

  “Your brother and I are going to get breakfast. Wanna come?” Adrian questions from the other side of the door.

  I look back to Asher, unsure of what to do.

  “Answer him.” He removes his hand from my lips, and my eyes widen, but Asher only moves faster.

  “N-no,” I say, a little more high-pitched and breathless than intended. “I’m really…tired.”

  Asher smirks and leans down to bite my nipple. I moan—loudly—and I hear a chuckle outside the room.

  “Tired, huh? Okay, well, do you want us to bring you anything back?”

  “God, yes,” I breathe, as I climb higher and higher.

  “Yes?” Adrian asks.

  “I mean no!”

  The asshole on top of me brings his hand down to rub his thumb in just the right spot, and that’s it. I can’t take it anymore.

  “Well, which is it?” an amused Adrian questions.

  I’m going to come. I can’t hold back. I finally break apart, practically convulsing. Asher crushes his mouth to mine to muffle my screams, kissing me deep and hard. Then he’s pulling out, spilling on my thigh with a groan.

  “Goddamn,” he mutters into my ear. “You’re beautiful when you come.”

  “Oh my God,” I whisper, feeling myself flush with equal parts embarrassment and ecstasy. Ash collapses on top of me, face pressed into my sweaty neck, and a few moments later, we hear a vehicle starting.

  “Do you think he knows?” I ask dumbly.

  “He’d be a fucking idiot not to.”

  My heart hammers in my chest even harder now, and my panicked eyes meet his. Except now he looks…angry.

  “My brother!” It hits me that if Adrian knows, my brother is going to in about five seconds.

  “Don’t trip, Bry. I’ll handle it,” he says, rolling off me.

  The moment is gone.

  The feeling is gone.

  And why wouldn’t it be? Because the boy I knew is gone, too.

  “Okay,” is all I say, feeling more vulnerable than ever as I pull the sheet up to cover my naked self. I’m done trying. Done hoping. I just slept with the ghost of the boy I used to love, and now I’m left feeling emptier than before.

  “Okay,” he repeats, swinging his legs over the bed and pulling on his boxers. He hastily snatches up the rest of his clothes and storms away. Once he’s to my bedroom door, he pauses.

  “Fuck!” he shouts, and I jump as his fist hits the wall next to the doorframe, cracking the drywall. Tears spring to my eyes, and before my vision clears, he’s gone.

  And then I’m alone. With the evidence of our transgressions drying on my thigh and tears drying to my cheek.

  Two weeks. Two weeks since I’ve laid eyes on Asher. I don’t know if he’s not staying here anymore, or if he’s only coming around when I’m not here. It’s safe to say we’re avoiding each other. Or at least, I was for the first week. I stayed with Nat, not wanting to run into any of the boys who occupy my house at any given moment.

  I’ll admit it. I wallowed. Nat listened to the whole story, only interjecting to offer to kill him and throw out the occasional expletive, like any self-respecting best friend should. Then, she threw me the best pity party, full of Netflix and wine and pizza. The second day was full of manicures, pedicures, massages, followed by shopping at her mother’s boutique. It stung knowing Asher regretted sleeping with me before our breathing even returned to normal, but buying pretty lingerie and being pampered helps even the most broken of hearts. Mine was just a little bruised.

  Now, though, I’m not sad. I’m angry. No, I’m fucking pissed. I’ve done nothing wrong. So, I decided to go home. It’s my home, after all. When I saw Dash later that night, he asked what I was doing staying
with Nat for so long, and I blamed it on her, saying that she was going through something. He gave me a look that screamed bullshit, but he didn’t push. And surprisingly, he didn’t allude to knowing about Ash and me.

  Now, I sit on the couch in the living room with my laptop on my crossed legs, attempting to decide on where I want to go to college and what I want to study. I startle when Adrian comes waltzing through my front door. He’s wearing a plain, loose, white tank top, dark jeans, and black, designer sunglasses. Even when he’s in casual attire, he looks like a million bucks.

  Adrian smiles, his deep dimples on display, and plops down next to me on the couch like he owns the place.

  “Hey, pretty girl,” he says, taking off his sunglasses and giving me an expectant look.

  “What?” I ask defensively.

  “Your secret is safe with me,” he says with a wink.

  “Don’t you have a job?” I say, avoiding that statement altogether.

  “Don’t change the subject.”

  “Ughhhh,” I huff dramatically and close my laptop. “What do you think you know?” I cut my eyes at him, giving him my best death glare.

  “I know that I thought I caught you in the middle of your, you know, me time,” he says the words with air quotes, wagging his brows. “Until we walked outside and saw Kelley’s truck. Weird, though, since we didn’t see him come in.”

  I roll my eyes, dropping my head to the back of the couch.

  “Don’t worry. I told Dash that he was asleep in the media room and that he wouldn’t wake up to come with us.”

  What? My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. I wasn’t expecting that.

  “Why would you cover for me?” I ask, genuinely confused. They’re best friends. More like brothers.

  “It’s not for you. I was hungry and didn’t want to get held up.” He shrugs. “Besides, that asshole Kelley is just as much my friend as Dash is, whether he wants to admit it or not.”

  I think back to the day on the lake and how Adrian wanted to help me get Asher’s attention.

  “Why are you pushing this?” I ask him, suddenly wary of his motives.

  “Dude deserves some good in his life. Besides, we’ll never get rid of Whitley if she thinks she has a chance with one of us.”

  One of us?

  “Oh my God, did you hook up with her, too?!” I slap his chest.

  “You don’t even want to know.” He grins, squeezing my knee. “Trust me on this one.”

  “Gross.”

  “Downright filthy.”

  If the rumors are true, this means she’s hooked up with all three of the boys in my life. Ash, my brother—yeah, found that out last summer—and now Adrian. My nails cut into my palms as I clench my fists. Why won’t she just go away?

  “Calm down, little killer.” Adrian laughs, reaching over to uncurl my fingers, and then leans back, propping his feet up on the edge of the coffee table. He pulls on my hand, and I lie back with my head on his shoulder, kicking my own feet up. “You don’t have anything to worry about with her.”

  I’m not so sure, I think, but instead, I say, “I’m not worried. Thoroughly disgusted,” I add, “but not worried. Where’s my brother, by the way?”

  “Should be pulling up any minute. He had to drop his truck off at the shop, so he called Kelley to pick him up.”

  Fuck. My first instinct is to dread seeing him, but some pathetic part of me still feels a thrill run through me at the thought of it.

  “We’re gonna hit up the club later tonight,” Adrian explains.

  “The club?” I snort. Imagining Asher at a club is straight-up laughable. I can just see him there, hating life, arms crossed in the corner. But my amused smile melts away when I imagine what would inevitably happen next. Gorgeous girls. Short skirts. High heels. Wanting one night with the bad boy with sad eyes.

  “Yes, the club,” he says, mimicking me in a high-pitched, Valley Girl voice. “I need some pussy tonight, and I’m sick of the same old places and faces. I need fresh meat.”

  “What you need, sir, is a damn filter. And condoms. Lots of condoms.” I roll my eyes and cross one ankle over the other.

  “And what you need is my d—” Before he’s able to finish what’s sure to be an inappropriate remark, the door opens and Dash and Asher walk in.

  Holy. Shit.

  He’s wearing black jeans—not skinny jeans, but more form-fitting than I’ve ever seen on him—with holes in the knees, a dark green V-neck that hugs his biceps, and his trusty black combat boots. His signature unruly hair is styled and pushed back off his forehead. He’s going out looking like that—meanwhile, I’m not old enough to get in even if I was invited.

  That pang of anxiety about him going out morphs into pure, ugly jealousy. The kind that turns your stomach to lead and makes your ears hot. The thought of Asher hooking up with anyone, ever turns my stomach, but hooking up with someone three seconds after we slept together? That thought makes it hard to breathe, especially since he clearly wasn’t happy with what I had to offer.

  Dash and Adrian jump into making plans for the night, but I don’t hear a word they say. I’m still stuck in my head when I finally look Asher in the eye, only to realize he’s staring at Adrian and me with narrowed eyes, looking more than a little suspicious. Lifting my head off Adrian’s shoulder, I stand, and he reflexively extends his hand to help me step over his outstretched legs while still in conversation with Dash.

  “Briar,” Dash says my name, just as I’m about to turn down the hall toward my room. I pause, looking over my shoulder. “You okay?”

  “Yep. I was a little disappointed over a boy.” I turn and aim a pointed look at Ash. “But he turned out to be kind of a douche, anyway.” Asher’s jaw ticks once, then he looks away.

  “Jackson? The fuck did he do?” my brother says, instantly riled up.

  “Not Jackson,” I’m quick to assure. He’s texted me here and there, but I haven’t responded. “It doesn’t matter anymore. I’m over it.”

  Lie, lie, lie.

  Not wanting to stick around for their inevitable pre-gaming, I stalk off to my room and text Nat.

  Me: I need you.

  Nat: Is this you finally coming out of the closet?

  Me: Not today. When are you getting here?

  Nat: Pulling up in 2.5.

  Me: Tell me you brought alcohol.

  Nat: Among other things…

  Me: Low-key suspicious of your “other things,” but I love you anyway. Come straight to my room when you get here.

  Five minutes later, Nat arrives, arms full of bags, looking frazzled.

  “Damn, your brother looks good tonight,” she says, unloading different bottles and jars of things onto my long, white dresser. “I almost got pregnant just from walking past him.”

  “I don’t think that’s how it works.” I laugh, picking up a jar of maraschino cherries. “What’s all this?”

  “I jacked a bottle of vodka from my mom, then I decided to get fancy and googled different cocktails…” She digs her phone out of her shorts pocket and taps a few times before turning the screen for me to see. “I present to you…the Cherry Blossom.”

  “God, yes. You are my favorite. Let’s take this party to the pool.”

  I dig through my drawer full of bathing suits and pull out one in a peachy color for me, and toss a mint one in Nat’s direction. Some girls collect shoes or purses or jewelry. Arizona girls collect swimming suits for every occasion.

  After getting changed, we grab the vodka, grenadine, cherries, and pink lemonade before heading to the kitchen to get cups and ice. As I’m filling our glasses, Dash and Adrian appear.

  “We’re leaving,” Dash says, eying our little setup. “Lock the door behind us and do not get drunk if you’re going to be swimming alone.” He points a stern finger in my direction and then Nat’s, making sure we’re both clear.

  “Yes, Dad,” I say, barely containing my eye roll. The hypocrite’s favorite pastime is drinking and swimming.
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  “Hey, Natalia,” Adrian says, looking her up and down. “Do you have any Mexican in you?”

  “No. I’m fucking Italian,” she scoffs.

  “Do you want some?” He wiggles his brows, and I bust out laughing. Nat rolls her eyes, but she’s unable to smother her grin.

  I look back to Adrian, expecting to see his perpetually amused smile, but instead, he looks uncomfortable and maybe even a little pissed off. And he’s staring directly over my shoulder.

  I hear Asher’s boots slapping against the tile floor, but what I don’t expect to hear is a pair of decidedly feminine footsteps click-clacking behind his. I turn, moving in slow motion like something out of a horror movie. Except this is real life and so much worse. Whitley is, once again, in my fucking house. Dark hair, sleek and parted down the middle, flat ironed to perfection. Pale breasts pushed up to her chin. My smile melts away.

  “You have got to be fucking shitting me, right?” This comes from Nat. “If I’m ever too dense to realize that I’m not wanted somewhere, please tell me.” She looks Whitley up and down before adding, “Better yet, just shoot me.”

  I’m afraid to say a word, to even make a move, in fear of everyone seeing right through me. Dash, luckily, is thrown off enough by Nat’s reaction that he doesn’t pay me any attention. Adrian angles himself in front of me in a defensive stance, under the guise of making himself a drink. Whitley looks victorious, and Asher looks…the same. His face is completely devoid of any emotion. He doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed or contrite, and that right there is what hurts the most.

  I’m stuck, fighting to keep my emotions in check. I want to tell Dash that I don’t want her here, but that would lead to unwanted questions. But, this is my house, and I shouldn’t have to be blindsided on my own turf.

  “Welp, you assholes have fun tonight!” Nat says in a cheery voice, no doubt sensing me flounder. She grabs our drinks, handing me one before trying to usher me out back.

  “We will!” Whitley pipes up, leaning forward to pluck a rogue piece of ice that fell to the counter and sucks on it in an embarrassingly transparent attempt at being seductive. “Too bad you guys can’t tag along, but you know, it’s twenty-one and up and all. Grown-ups only.” She fake pouts, careful not to say anything that can be seen as outright offensive in front of my brother, and I stop in my tracks.