by Kreig, K. L.
His presence alone spins me completely off balance. His touch, though…it totally obliterates every last trace of common sense I possess.
“Maybe it’s good for your ego to be denied once in a while,” I pant as his lips travel down the expanse of my throat. Teeth nip gently and my breath hitches. The air thickens impossibly with desire and I’m lost to everything he’s doing to my mind, my senses, my body. “Asher…you’re not playing fair,” I breathe, trying to protest. It sounds more like a plea to continue instead.
“No point playing unless you play to win. Say yes, Alyse,” he demands against my heated flesh.
His left hand has hooked around my waist, pulling me flush against his erection. By now my head is leaning back against his broad shoulders and the fingers of his right hand dip into the top of my cami, brushing against the lacy cup of my bra, while the thumb on his left has worked its way under the hem, circling the sensitive flesh underneath.
Oh God. I can’t form a coherent thought. This is so inappropriate. I’m in Asher’s mother’s house, for the love. I’ll never be asked back.
“Say yes.”
“Yes to what?” I have no idea what he’s talking about. I just need him to continue putting his hands and lips all over me.
He stills, then spins me so my back is pressed against the cold glass and my front is pressed against one hundred-ninety-plus pounds of taut, toned, virile man. My face is once again in his hands. I’ve quickly determined this is a position of dominance for him.
“Possibilities, Alyse. Say yes to possibilities.” His eyes plead with me to agree. Without even thinking, I find myself nodding before his lips are once again on mine, our tongues dueling wildly. I wrap my arms around his waist and pull him close. My resolve slips, and I finally give in to what I’ve wanted since I laid eyes on Asher Colloway over eight years ago.
Him.
Moments later a throat clearing in the background freezes us. I would have jumped a mile away from Asher given the chance, but he has me pinned in place. He doesn’t move a muscle, except to slowly pull his mouth from mine. Heated eyes bore into my panicked ones like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
There is so much he’s trying to convey to me in that moment, but the only thing I hear is you’re mine now. The thought makes my core practically weep with joy and my heart race in sheer terror.
“Everyone’s ready to go,” Conn jibes in almost a singsong voice. “You two lovebirds coming or you going to pussy out on me this year, Ash?”
Asher’s eyes never leave mine when he leans in for a final quick peck before turning toward his twin. “Game on, little brother.”
“By four minutes. Jesus H, are you ever going to let that go?”
“You know I’m not.” Asher laughs.
I’m so incredibly embarrassed to be caught making out that I can’t even look Conn in the eyes, my gaze falling anywhere but on him. I have no doubt in less than a minute Asher’s hand would have been down my pants, and, oh God, I would have let him. I only hope no one else has walked by this secluded part of the house, especially my sister. I roll my eyes in disgust, unable to believe I’m acting so wanton in someone else’s home.
“You goin’, babe?” Conn asks me, forcing me to look at him. The smirk on his face almost makes me laugh. He’s enjoying goading Asher. Immensely.
Asher pulls me to his side, growling at his brother. “Call her that again and I’m going to fuck up that pretty face of yours.” Conn laughs loudly at that, but Asher is not amused.
My mind is a jumble of racing thoughts. It feels like it’s been stuck in a blender and someone has pushed the pulse button. I need to go home and take a cold shower…or a dozen of them. Or maybe an ice bath. I need time to breathe, think, pound my head against the wall so I knock some sense into my stupid self. I need time to work on my pros and cons. Correction, I need time to work on my cons. Why does it seem like I’ve made a deal with the devil? Surely I can still change my mind. I start to answer that no, I’m absolutely not coming, when Asher interrupts.
“Yes, she’s going.”
Caveman much?
“Hey, shouldn’t I get to decide?”
He turns, pressing me against the glass once more, completely indifferent to the fact that his brother’s watching every move, listening to every word. “You said yes.”
“I—are you delusional? You don’t own me. I make my own decisions.” Jesus, this man infuriates me as much as he sexes me up.
His eyes glitter with mirth. “You remember what I said last time you said those words to me?”
“Fuck you. You don’t own me.”
“Not yet I don’t, sweet Alyse.”
I could only nod. Not only did I remember, I replayed those six words constantly, especially in the dark of night when I used my vibrator. We’re becoming besties lately. I may have even named him AJ when I found that Asher’s middle name is James. Pathetic? Maybe. But I’m not ashamed, though I wouldn’t go around renting a billboard advertising it either.
“Are you always so disagreeable, Alyse?”
“Are you always so dominating, Asher?”
Leaning toward my ear, he lowers his voice so only we can hear. Hot breath tickles my lobe and travels downward between my thighs. “Yes, I am. You love it, Alyse. Your eyes dilate and your breath hitches with every dirty, demanding word. And the thought of owning every inch of not only your gorgeous body, but your heart and soul has me so fucking hard, I’m having to fight myself not to make you mine right here.”
“Asher…” My voice is barely audible. My pussy now has its own heartbeat. I have no idea if Conn is still standing there, watching the show we’re putting on, but he could sell tickets and I don’t think I’d protest, because I don’t want this fluttery feeling in the pit of my stomach to stop. God, I have never felt like this before.
“Tell me you’re wet.”
“Asher, God.” My eyes drift shut. All I want is for cool glass to be pressing against my flushed naked skin while he moves inside of me.
“Tell me.” His tongue darts out to trace the shell of my ear. I have to bite my lip not to voice the moan hovering in the back of my throat. I think I actually draw blood I bite so hard. “Tell me, Alyse. Fuck, tell me how soaked you are right now for me.”
I can’t deny it. I can’t deny him. “I am.” Pulling me flush to him, he curses low in my ear and it jumps straight to my sex. I’ve never wanted to strip my clothes in front of an audience before, but damn if that thought isn’t just running wild through my fuzzy, sex-addled head. Damn, he is good.
“Come.”
Oh God, I could come. If I just rub my thighs together a little bit, I could be moaning his name so loud the whole house would hear it, but then I realize that’s not what he meant. I somehow find my voice. It’s squeaky when I force it out.
“Why, so you have someone to beat? I suck at bowling and I’ve never played laser tag.”
He takes a step back, finally letting the oxygen that was sucked out by our sexual vortex circulate back in. I gasp for the breath I don’t feel I’ve taken in long minutes.
“You can be on my team.”
I think about it for a moment, but I’m really trying to push every second of the last ten minutes into my memory bank so I can pull it out later when I’m alone. Ultimately, I give in, as I knew I would the second his lips met mine, begging. Deciding to play with him a bit, however, since he’s coerced me into embarrassing myself even further today, I finally respond.
“Okay, but I think I want to be on Conn’s team.”
“Like hell,” Asher practically yells.
“I’ll take her.”
Well, that question’s answered. Conn has apparently been intently watching our little carnal interlude. I wonder if he could hear me panting all the way across the room. God. Kill me now.
“Well Conn is the five-time reigning champ,” I tease. My breathing is finally starting to calm slightly, but I’m sure my face is as red as a beet. Asher is s
till blocking my view of Conn. For that, I’m grateful.
“Alyse.” His voice is rough and growly and while I’ve kept a straight face until now, I can’t any longer. I start laughing.
“Fine, you big baby. I’ll go. I’ll be on your team. I’ll do whatever you want.”
The fierce look of lust on Asher’s face at my last comment makes the laughter die in my throat. “I’ll remember you said that.”
“Can we get going now or are you guys going to eye-fuck each other some more.” Oh. My. God.
“Connelly James Colloway! Watch your language!” I hear Barb Colloway yell.
Unnngh. This is seriously worse than death.
Minutes later as we all funnel out the front door, I ask myself for the hundredth time in the last twenty-four hours: Just what in the hell do you think you’re doing, Alyse? And each time I come up with the same answer.
I don’t have a goddamn clue.
Chapter 8
Alyse
It’s Sunday night and I walk into the quiet restaurant asking for Livia at the hostess desk. I’m the first one to arrive so she takes me back to a table for four, leaving menus, along with a wine list, around the square glazed oak top.
Finally deciding on a glass of house Zinfandel, I’ve just placed my order when I see Livia walking toward me, being directed by the cute young blonde working the front. My sister has an armful of magazines and folders along with an iPad.
“Hi,” she says, setting everything down just to my right.
“Hi. That’s a lot of stuff,” I reply, eyeing the three-inch thick stack she’s trying to keep from spilling all over the floor.
She laughs. “Well, we have a lot of stuff to get done. The wedding is in four weeks now.” The waitress comes over to take Livia’s order and she sticks with water.
“How are you feeling?” I ask. She looks good. Really good. Deliriously happy. I haven’t seen or talked to her since Thursday night—the same night Asher took me home directly from the bowling alley and kissed me senseless on my front porch before he drove away, leaving us both aching.
I can still feel his lips imprinted on mine, and his hard, sinewy body pressing me against the wood siding. I didn’t ask him to come in this time and he didn’t push for it either. Though the racy texts he sent me later, and all weekend long for that matter, left no doubt we both want to be in each other’s pants. Big time.
“I feel really good today. I was only nauseous this morning and I’ve actually had an appetite.”
“I’m glad.”
After she gets organized, she turns her piercing gaze to me. If there’s one thing that hasn’t changed about Livia and me, it’s that she can read me like a damn good book. I wish I didn’t have these feelings of lingering bitterness toward her. I so want to let them go, but I just…can’t. I want to let her in, but I don’t know how.
I’ve spent so much of my life keeping people out, I’m not sure I know how to let them in. I’m hoping that spending some quality time with her over these next couple months will allow me to finally forgive her. Maybe she’ll even tell me the truth about what actually happened.
A little hypocritical, aren’t you, Alyse? There’s so much about your own past you haven’t even told your own sister.
Fuck off, I tell my conscience. That’s different. Right?
“So, are you settling in?”
Livia was very supportive when I told her Asher hired me for this audit, and she was excited that I’d be temporarily relocating here so we could spend more time together. But I breathe a sigh of relief that she doesn’t ask me about Asher, because I don’t know if she approves of our personal relationship and quite frankly, I still need some time to get my head on straight about where it is I think I’m headed with him. Other than his bed. After these past few days, we both know that’s inevitable.
“Yes, I guess so. I just brought a couple of suitcases and spent the afternoon getting unpacked and picking up a few groceries at the corner market, so it was pretty easy. I start on the project tomorrow.”
I don’t tell her that there was a huge bouquet of wild flowers waiting for me, courtesy of the man I can’t get out of my head for a single solitary second. Or the bottle of champagne I found in the fridge, along with a note that was clearly not business related. Unless that business included getting me underneath him in short order. His romantic side is equally as endearing as his domineering one.
“Are your friends coming?”
“Yeah, they’re running late. They will both be late to their own funerals.” She pauses and I can tell she has something more to say so I wait patiently. “I’m glad you’re here, Alyse.”
“Me too, Libs.” I grab her hand and smile.
Livia looks down like she’s nervous. “Alyse, can I ask you something?”
Uh oh. “Sure,” I respond slowly, drawing out the word. I can’t guarantee you I’ll answer honestly, though.
“Are you doing all right? I mean…really all right? With the breakup with Finn and all?”
Ah, Livia. Always worried about my mental health.
I take a deep breath, followed by a deep drink of my wine. I’m not sure why I can’t just tell her no. I’m not doing all right, and it has nothing at all to do with Finn. I haven’t been doing all right for the last eight years since my boyfriend and the father of my baby went apeshit behind the wheel of a car, trying to kill us, apparently thinking he was better off dead than having a family with me.
Because she doesn’t know about Beck, at least not that he was my boyfriend. She thinks he was a friend’s brother giving me a ride home. And she certainly didn’t know I was pregnant.
My dad was so caught up in his own world, he didn’t give two shits what I did; however, Livia would have never approved of me dating someone who was twenty-two when I was only eighteen. But she wasn’t home much. She worked or went to college and whenever Gray came home, they were inseparable. I didn’t exist. In some ways I feel like Livia deserted me well before she physically left.
So she has no idea why I sank into a deep depression after the accident or why I tried to take my own life not just once, but twice. I lost everything that day and I still don’t understand why. I think that’s the hardest part. Not knowing. I’ve replayed that day hundreds upon hundreds of times, trying to figure out what I missed. Every single time I come up blank.
I absently rub the scar low on my breastbone where the surgeons had to remove my ruptured spleen. In some ways I was lucky that day. I sustained relatively minor injuries. A few lacerations on my face and body, a broken ankle, a ruptured spleen, and of course, a miscarriage because the trauma was likely too great for the baby to handle, they said.
Outwardly, all I have left of that horrific day are a few silvery, ragged scars marring my once-perfect skin. Inwardly, however…those wounds are the most severe. They run far and deep. On some days I feel like they’re still bleeding out. Sometimes I think it’s impossible for the scars on your heart and mind to scab over. They’re the most fragile ones, easy to rip open, so they constantly remain fresh and raw.
Then instead of vomiting everything that I should, I smile and do what I always do.
Lie.
“Yes, I’m really good, Livia. Truly.” I feel my nose grow just a bit and guilt stabs me for the fact that I’m what I hate the most. A hypocrite.
I’m saved from any further probing when I hear laughter at the far end of the restaurant and see two stunningly beautiful women approach us. Livia jumps up and runs to meet them. They hug and giggle. I’m surprised at the tinge of envy I feel. Heather is the closest person I have to a friend. Or Finn. How sad. I’m suddenly consumed by an almost overwhelming sense of loneliness I haven’t felt in a very long time. I don’t like it.
And I vow to find a way to fix it.
“Alyse, this Addy and Kamryn. Guys, this is my sister, Alyse.” I stand and try to shake their hands, but they both race around the table and hug me instead, telling me how happy they are to finally
meet me, how much Livia talks about me, how happy they are that I’ll be here for a while. They both go on for what seems like minutes. I can’t help but smile and laugh with them. I can see why Livia likes them.
An hour later, after we’ve chatted and eaten a light dinner, Livia drags out her iPad, pulling up a spreadsheet she’s created. We’re different in so many ways, but the one thing Livia and I always did have in common was the obsessive need to be organized.
“Okay, Kam, were you able to find a venue yet?” Livia asks, feverishly typing on her little keyboard. With such short notice, that was one of the things bound to be difficult. That, and the fact that it’s the holidays in the city, and every hotel ballroom will no doubt already be reserved with holiday parties and other events.
“Jesus, Livia. You owe me big time for this. I must have called a hundred hotels, but you’re in luck. Yes, just on the way over here I heard from the Palmer House. They have one of their smaller ballrooms available, but the wedding rooms are booked and we’ll have to work around the chapel’s availability because there is another wedding that day. I think if you shift the time of the ceremony from five to six o’clock, we could make everything work. And they have a wedding coordinator who can help you manage a lot of the details, like catering, flowers, cake and such.”
“Well, I’m going to have to be as flexible as a gymnast to pull this off.”
“Good, I’m glad you said that, because I gave her my credit card to hold it. She said she had another inquiry just hours ago.”
A look of relief crosses Livia’s face. “Thanks, Kam.”
“Welcome, babe.”
Addy speaks up. “We have appointments on Saturday at two different bridal stores, Livia. You’ll need to buy something off the rack, but the two shops I booked have quite a bit of inventory to choose from, so hopefully you’ll walk away on Saturday with your wedding dress!” Addy squeals, causing the few other patrons in the restaurant to look our way.