by Linda Kage
Clutching a bundle of clothes to her, she tiptoed barefoot from the bathroom and murmured, “Gracias,” as she motioned behind her, thanking me for the use of my shower, I guess. Then she waved and added, “Adiós.”
What? No way was she leaving just like that. I swung off the bed and leapt to my feet so quickly she jerked to a halt and eyed me warily.
“You don’t have to leave yet,” I told her, pointing toward her clothes. “You can change into your things first. It’s fine.”
She shook her head and pointed toward the door, rattling off a whole string of shit I didn’t understand.
When she started to flee again, I eased into her path and set my hand on the door. Skidding to a halt, she gaped at my fingers with wide eyes before sliding her skittish gaze to me.
I knew I was freaking her out, but I kind of liked that. She’d definitely freaked me out when I’d discovered her in my shower.
“I’m Asher,” I said, leaning mildly against the door and effectively barricading her way out.
She drew in a deep breath, stared at the floor a moment, then looked up, meeting my gaze head-on, without fear as she gestured toward the door. “Por favor,” she murmured, requesting I let her out.
I only grinned and shook my head. “I don’t think so, beautiful. It’s your turn. What’s your name? ¿Nombre? ¿Cómo te llamas?”
Her eyes flared. Then she shook her head adamantly and whispered, “No.”
I leaned closer, my grin only stretching wider. “No, what? No is your name, or no, you can’t give me your name?”
“N-no,” she repeated, her breathing picking up as I dipped my face closer to hers. She definitely no longer appeared afraid of me. Her eyes glossed with heat and she didn’t even try to pull away. From the entranced way she studied me, I wondered if she was going to kiss me. I kind of really hoped she did.
Raw, hot lust stirred inside me, prickling my skin and hardening my cock.
Unable to stop smiling, I eased closer, halting only when I was a mere inch from pressing my mouth to hers. “Yes,” I argued softly, playfully.
She shuddered, blinking rapidly. Then she jerked her head back and forth, refusing to give in. “No,” she insisted on a husky whisper. “Por favor.”
Disappointment filled me, but I hadn’t really expected her to do anything differently.
“Well, whoever you are,” I murmured, dropping my arm from the door before I stepped back and even opened it for her to leave. “It was very nice to meet you. I hope to find you naked again in my shower. Preferably soon.”
“Tha…” Her eyes wide with shock, she suddenly shook her head and sputtered disjointed sounds before gasping, “Adiós,” and escaping through the door. She fled into the hall, grabbing the door from me so she could slam it shut behind her.
Once I was alone in the room, I ran my hand through my hair and twirled in a slow circle, trying to make sense of what had just happened. This urge to race after her enveloped me, but what the hell would I do if I actually caught her? She had refused to give me her name, and it wasn’t like we could actually have a conversation, so there was no way I was going to find out how she’d really gotten into my room or why she’d been there.
And tossing her over my shoulder so I could drag her back to my bed and fuck her senseless was probably a bad idea.
Maybe if she’d left something behind I could snag it up and have a reason to track her down, return her items to her, so I could…what? Bask in her presence a few seconds longer?
Lame as that idea was, it was the only one I had, so I hurried into the bathroom, praying to find panties or hell, anything, to give back to her.
But I found nothing. The small room was still misty and the occasional droplet of water dripped from the showerhead, reminding me how recently she’d been naked in here. It smelled like Remy’s soap, but I didn’t even care.
A vision of shower girl filled my head and before I knew it, I was stripping off my clothes and stepping into the same place she’d just stood naked. I imagined her still here, wet and gorgeous. As I turned on the water full blast, I pinned her to the wall in my mind’s eye. Gripping myself, I wondered what it would’ve felt like to push inside her, feel the warm give of her flesh wrap around me, suck her breasts into my mouth and drive my hips repeatedly between her wide open thighs.
“God.” I picked up the pace, practically jerking my dick off as the orgasm raced down my spine between my legs, tightened my nutsack and then shot out the end of my cock. I bowed my head and pressed one hand against the wall, stroking myself to completion.
But as the relief of satisfying myself began, so did the self-disgust. I was so pathetic, jacking off alone in a shower merely after seeing a pretty girl. I needed sex so bad I was probably going to wank myself blind soon.
I should’ve never turned Monique down last night. What the hell was I waiting for, anyway? So what if a woman wasn’t my soul mate; a couple intimate minutes with a complete stranger had to be better than nothing, because right now, I had nothing.
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.
I couldn’t believe I’d been stupid enough to let him catch me in the shower. But he’d just barely left to get food, and even as tired as I was, I knew that had to be my last opportunity to take a shower before we left, so I’d leapt out of bed and tried to hurry, except, damn it, he’d caught me.
And then I’d gone and used my slutty señorita voice on him.
Jodi would be so proud.
I, on the other hand, was horrified.
But he hadn’t pieced the truth together, and when he asked me who I was, the Spanish just came pouring out because I knew he wouldn’t understand me. I had told him that I hated lying to him, but someday I was sure he’d know the truth, just not right at that moment while I was naked in a shower and he was staring at me as if he found me attractive.
And then he went and admitted he found me attractive.
I almost melted right then.
Asher thought girl-me was hot. That was just so…amazing. Not only that, but he’d flirted with me. Freaking-fracking flirted…with me!
I’d never seen him so bold or engaging with any female before. Ever.
But then…he had once admitted to me he liked to be the pursuer, hadn’t he, and I’d definitely retreated enough to heat the predator in him. Not intentionally. At the time, I’d just wanted to flee, but damn, watching him on the hunt was erotic as hell.
Rocking a whole boatload of nerves and fear and excitement, I raced along the halls of the hotel in nothing but a towel, my mask and sleep clothes clutched to my chest until I found a public bathroom at the end of the hall. Darting inside, I dropped the heap I’d been carrying on the floor at my feet. Good thing I’d been naked when he walked in on me; it had successfully distracted him enough that he hadn’t noticed Sticks’s wig-mask sitting pretty as you please on the bathroom vanity.
Cursing myself for my stupidity in leaving the door cracked, I peeled off the towel and dug through my heap to find my man panties. But I hated showering with a door closed; it just felt so humidly, smotheringly cloistering to me. Still…
“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” I muttered, jerking on my foam chest and then the rest of my clothes.
My hair was dripping wet and I didn’t have anything to comb it with, so I used the towel to squeegee as much moisture as possible from it. Then I ran my fingers a couple times through the damp locks before winding them into a bun and tugging on my mask. I checked out the mirror for glitches and straightened my left ear when I saw it was wonky. Then I blew out a breath and turned to leave the bathroom. That’s when I realized I was barefoot.
I couldn’t return to the room barefoot; Asher would wonder why I didn’t have any shoes, and I was sure he was going to bombard me with enough questions I needed to come up with some answers for.
So, while I scampered barefoot around the hotel, searching for something that might pass as shoes, I tried to come up with a plausible story.
But real
ly…why would I have let a girl into our room and then left her there alone to shower? Maybe I thought she needed some privacy. But then, he’d want to know who she was. Just some random girl who’d knocked on our door, begging for the use of our bathroom? Meh, I couldn’t see him buying that story. If I’d trusted her alone in our room, then I’d have to know her, and if I knew her, I’d have to come up with a name for her, possibly a life story if he got really curious.
I was already lying to him enough with the whole I’m-a-dude trickery, I didn’t want to lie any more than I had to. So I decided to go with the clueless route. Yeah, that sounded good. After miraculously spotting a pair of Chicago Bears flip-flops with one strap broken sitting on the closed lid of the dumpsters outside, I trudged back to the hotel, holding my breath as I let myself into our room.
Asher pounced immediately. I barely opened the door before he was in my face, demanding, “Where the hell have you been?”
I lurched a step back, a bit concerned by the anger flashing in his eyes. “I…I was looking for you. I thought you said you were going to eat breakfast at Denny’s across the street, and when I couldn’t go back to sleep, I hauled my butt over there, but you were gone.”
“Because I forgot my wallet in the room and came back to get it. Who was the girl?”
I swear, I deserved an Academy Award for the way I furrowed my eyebrows, squinted at him and asked, “What girl?”
“The…the…” He sputtered a second longer, motioning wildly toward the bathroom. Finally, he was able to blurt, “The fucking chick in our shower!”
Mouth gaping, I glanced toward the opened door of the bathroom and then back to him, sending him a look that told him I thought he was straight-up tripping.
“There’s a chick in our shower?”
“Yes!” he boomed, then swatted a hand toward me. “Well, not now. But there was when I came in.”
“No way.” Letting him know I totally didn’t believe him, I strode toward the bathroom and peered inside to see that the shower stall was still wet. I swerved back around. “Who the hell was she? How’d she get in here?”
“That’s what I’m trying to ask you, asshole. She said she knew you.”
“She did?” I scratched at my head, perfecting the confusion bit.
Poor Asher, he was really baffled by all this. “Well…damn it,” he muttered, running his hands through his hair. “I think she did. She only spoke Spanish.”
I lifted my eyebrows in offence. “Oh, so all us Spanish-speaking people must know each other?”
“No…I didn’t mean it like that.” He scowled at me for even assuming as much. Then he blew out a breath. Once he was calmer, he explained, “I said your name and her face lit up with recognition. Then she rattled off…something that had the word amigo in it, which means friend, right? She had to have been one of your friends.”
Damn, he seemed really bothered by all this. I was tempted to break down and tell him everything, but then the fear of how he’d react scared me back into silence. “Well…” I frowned, hating this game more with each second. “What’d she look like?”
“Fucking gorgeous,” he said immediately, making my heart rate jack faster. “Long, straight black hair with these stray purple streaks in it. Eyes the same color as yours, but like fuller. Thick, dark eyelashes that seemed to go on forever. Heart-shaped face, flawless features. Perfect tits and legs, and…” He drew in a deep breath before adding, “A banging body. I shit you not; she was…beautiful.”
I blushed and was tempted to thank him. Hell, I was tempted to push him down onto his bed and crawl on top of him so he could appreciate everything he’d complimented up close and personal.
Instead, I shook my head and murmured, “Weird.”
He nodded. “So, you really have no idea who she was, or how she got in here?”
“No. Sorry. Do you…think we should say something to the hotel about it? It’s kind of freaky that just anyone could break into our room like that.”
“I don’t see why we need to. She only took a shower. And I don’t think she stole anything—except a towel—I mean, my laptop’s still lying right there.”
“Huh. That’s just…strange.”
My guilt for lying grew as Asher scratched his temple and murmured, “Yeah,” in an equally perplexed tone.
Because I couldn’t keep looking at him in all his confusion, I hurried to my side of the room. “I’m going to check my shit, anyway. See if everything’s still here.”
We made it back to Ellamore early that evening. Asher, of course, had to tell Heath and Gally about “shower girl.”
Gally’s first question was, “Did you fuck her?”
Asher had declined to answer that aside from a roll of his eyes. He also downplayed how pretty he thought I was. I found it adorable, like his way of keeping me to himself and protecting his shower girl from the likes of a perv like Gally.
The next day—Monday—we didn’t have band practice, which was good because I had to work through the lunch hour. But I couldn’t get Asher off my mind. The thing with his dad, the song he’d sang for (possibly) me, how much fun I’d had writing lyrics with him, all the guilt I was packing around for continuously lying to him. It all swirled through me until I just had to see him.
I’d finished organizing the Non-Castrato box. I had planned on bringing it to practice the next day, but I couldn’t wait that long. I was going through Asher withdrawals. So after I got off work and showered, I texted him to learn he was working at Forbidden. And half an hour later, that’s where I found myself in my Sticks outfit.
The place was fairly dead…well, it wasn’t packed wall to wall with people. There were actually some tables free and I could walk directly to the bar without having to murmur “excuse me” to anyone. It was kind of nice. Almost peaceful. I felt the urge to slide onto a stool at the bar, order a beer, and sigh in total contentment. The entire atmosphere made me want to watch some reruns of Cheers.
I scanned the room for Asher, but didn’t spot him. The coworker who knew I was a female was the only one working. Crap. What had Asher called him? It’d been some number. Eight? Nine?
Ten. That was it.
Dreading the encounter, I plunked the box in my arms onto the bar top and sent him a scowl. “I have some shit for Hart. He around?”
In the middle of drying a glass he’d just taken from a tub of freshly cleaned mugs, he glanced my way. “You know, you don’t have to talk dude to me. I’m onto your chick status, remember?”
Damn, I hadn’t even realized I’d been talking like a guy. This was bad. It was becoming habit now as soon as I put on the suit. What if I completely lost all my girlishness soon? What if—okay, I might be overthinking this. With a scowl, I grumbled, “He said he was working tonight, and I could drop this box by for him.”
“Oh, yeah?” Ten set the dried glass aside and leaned forward, resting his forearms on the counter, to get a look inside. “What is it? Kinky sex stuff?”
“You wish.” I moved it back so he couldn’t see the boring file folders I’d organized and arranged.
He shrugged, nonplussed, as he straightened again. “Eh, no matter. Caroline’s and my collection is already complete, so I’m good, anyway. It was Hart I was thinking about. That boy’s long overdue.”
I frowned, confused. “Overdue for what?”
He blinked as if he couldn’t believe I had no idea what he was talking about. Then he said, “Sex,” adding a silent duh behind that.
Oh, brother. I should’ve known better than to ask.
“Seriously,” he went on. “I don’t think it’s healthy for a guy to go as long as he has without any.”
“Wait, he talks about all his…exploits?” This I did not want to know. It disappointed me to learn Asher was a kiss-and-teller. I didn’t want him to disappoint me. I was just starting to think he was okay.
Fine…better than okay.
Ten lifted his eyebrows. “Exploits? Yeah, there she is. Now you’re so
unding chick again.”
I rolled my eyes and turned away, deciding to look for Asher myself and get out of here.
But Ten called after me. “Of course he doesn’t talk about that shit.”
I shouldn’t have stopped, but I did. And when I turned back, Ten sent me a smug smile, knowing I was more interested than I should be. “I just know when he’s been laid,” he explained. “Hart has a definite tell.”
“What’s his tell?” Dios, why had I asked that? I didn’t want to know…except, okay, I totally did.
Ten chuckled. “Why don’t you go find out for yourself? He’s alone in the storeroom right now, sorting through a load of inventory that just came in.”
I sniffed and frowned. “You’re an ass.” Then I whirled away to find the storeroom.
“Watch out, Sticks. Your girl’s really showing now.”
Knowing I wasn’t going to win against this guy, I ignored him, wondering where the hell to look for the storeroom, until he called, “Down the hall, last door on the left.”
I went that way, and could hear the muffled singing before I reached the last room on the left. The door was cracked, so I nudged it the rest of the way open and paused just inside the entrance where Asher was belting out a kickass rendition of Hozier’s “Take Me to Church.”
He really did have the most amazing voice, and I was coming to realize he liked songs that challenged his vocal chords. He loved to let it loose. And God, I loved to listen to him. I propped the box against my hip, leaned a shoulder on the wall, and enjoyed the show.
He’d just emptied a cardboard crate of bourbon bottles onto a shelf and was beginning to tear down the empty box when he hit the round of Amens in the song. So he paused to tip his head back and really wail the chorus. Mesmerized, I shook my head.
Didn’t matter if he was alone or in front of a crowd, he put his entire heart and soul into it, didn’t he?
Once he started the next verse, he kept singing but returned to work, straightening the row of bottles on the shelf. Then he stepped back to inspect his work, only to step forward again and nudge one bottle an inch to the right until he was satisfied.