Return of the bad boy, p.7
Return of the Bad Boy, page 7
No nose ring, but the rest was scarily accurate.
“Well, guess what, honey?” he continued, his fingertips sizzling on her bare skin. “I’m going to make you feel good. I’m the only one who can.”
He pulled his face away and she had to will her mouth to close. Her teeth clacked together as her brain scrambled to figure out what part she should argue with first. Wrenching a fist around his T-shirt, she tugged him close. A small smile played on his mouth, and his hand went higher beneath her shirt. He was anticipating a kiss, but she wasn’t going to kiss him.
“Listen up, you arrogant bastard.” Anger vibrated through her arms and a charge shot from her toes to the crown of her head. “You don’t get to claim me. I’m not your property. I can do whatever I want.” Because she wanted to wipe that stupid smirk off his face, she added, “And I can do whomever I want.”
His lips flinched, but he didn’t back away, stepping even closer and touching the tip of her nose with his. Her vision was now swimming in dark hair, dark eyes, and the sexiest smirk she’d ever seen.
It’s not sexy. It’s stupid, remember?
But it wasn’t. And the rest of her knew it. Her nipples tightened, her body tingled, and the hand she’d wrapped around his shirt began to sweat…
“You do me, Sarge. No one else,” he said.
“I’m not”—she had to swallow around a very dry throat to finish—“doing you.”
“Brice McGuire doesn’t know how to make your body sing. I do.” He slid his nose along hers and moved his hand from her back to her hair. She shivered. “Want me to make your body sing, Sarge?”
“We”—she closed her eyes to unscramble her brain, then opened them again—“decided not to sleep together again.”
“You decided that.” Awareness lit the depths of his gaze and he ran his fingers up the back of her scalp, causing goose bumps to cover her arms. “After.”
After.
“Remember what happened after, Sarge?”
Of course she did. And judging by his sudden seriousness, he remembered, too. There was no doubting what happened after that night in the mansion.
Gloria had freaked right out.
Chapter 5
Where the hell are you going?” Ash asked as she stood.
“I’m…I can’t do this anymore, Asher.”
“What?” He sat up on the bed, naked, hair all over the place and eyes wild. “Don’t you fucking put that on.”
She was attempting to slip into her evening wear while willing her knees to hold her up. That last orgasm had made her wobbly. Probably she should lie down and recover. But lying down meant lying next to Asher and she couldn’t do that.
Dress on, she resumed the hunt for her shoes. “People are going to notice we’re missing,” she said, lifting the comforter from the corner of the bed and finding one of her shoes.
“I don’t care.”
Ah. She spotted the other one by the nightstand, half under the bed. She tugged it out with her toe and slipped it on, then balanced a hand on the bed to slip on the other one.
Asher propped on an elbow on the bed and frowned some more.
“Help me zip this, okay?” She turned, holding the front of her purple dress and moving her hair over one shoulder.
He climbed out of bed and stood behind her, and she closed her eyes so she wouldn’t have to look at the damn near-perfect body she was refusing to climb into bed and snuggle with.
Leaning close, he whispered, “Don’t do this.”
Too bad she couldn’t shut her ears.
“Zip.” She worked up a glare, turned around, and shot him with it, then waited. He clenched his jaw but did as she asked. When he was done, he stood, hands on his hips, and glared back at her while she struggled to keep her eyes on his face.
“Why are you doing this?” His tone was just low and sincere enough to make her face heat.
“I don’t owe you any post-coital snuggling, you know. I didn’t agree to that.”
“Yeah, Sarge. I know.” His tone was weary. “You don’t owe me anything. You’ve made that clear. Not even an apology for assuming the worst and being dead wrong.”
“I saw her—”
“Yeah, you saw her. What you didn’t see was me fucking her.” He came closer and grasped her shoulders with his palms. “I did not sleep with Jordan after I slept with you. We fucked one time.” He held up a finger. “Once. That’s it.”
Gloria frowned.
He dropped his hands. “Know what I think?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. She didn’t want to know, but she figured she couldn’t stop him from speaking.
“I think,” he continued, “that you believe me. And I think you’re going to continue to pretend you don’t to save face, or try to ignore what just happened in here. And I’m not talking about the sex, Sarge. I’m talking about what happened. You’re freaked. Hell, I’m freaked. But it happened and I’m not going to pretend it didn’t.”
Something had happened. And he was right. She was freaked. Because in the tender moments when he held her eyes with his, when he started babbling about song lyrics, when he admitted he missed her, she realized something else.
She missed him, too.
The sex that was supposed to be a reprieve from their usual bickering had delivered, but an orgasm wasn’t the only gift. There had been a deeper undercurrent between them. One where they saw each other without the cover of for-show arguments and their egos getting in the way.
She’d been naked with Asher before but this was the only time she’d felt truly naked. She had to get the hell out of this room—out of this mansion—because she couldn’t let him any closer. He was way too close already. She could so easily go from having a good time to falling, and falling hard.
After being hurt so badly the last time, there was no way she could allow herself to be that vulnerable again. So, yeah. She recognized that something happened. But she didn’t have to admit it. Deflection was her only ally.
“We both needed that, but let’s not make this into a thing.” She went to a mirror on the wall under the pretense of fixing her hair.
“A thing?” He stalked up behind her. Still naked. Still beautiful. She tried to keep her eyes on her own reflection. And failed. He was a study of shadowed, lean muscle. Cut abs, rounded pecs, tattoos—flowers, a skull, the cross on his arm—sketched permanently onto his olive skin. Just so sexy he made her teeth hurt. “Are you shittin’ me right now?”
She so was. But giving in meant they’d continue this discussion. And then what? Asher was about to go home to LA. She was about to go home to Chicago. How could either of them act on the level of intimacy they’d just experienced? They couldn’t.
She tore her eyes off his reflection and spun on him. “This wasn’t a new beginning for you and me, Asher. You knew what this was before we came up here. A blow job and sex and then we both return to our regularly scheduled lives.”
Her own words cut into her. Deep. Deeper than before because part of her was already too vulnerable to him. Dammit! Why hadn’t she said no?
“You think that’s what you are to me?” His expression was downright murderous.
She didn’t think that. Part of her thought he might be the man who held the key to figuring out who she was. To letting her be who she was. The real her. Another part of her believed that Ash was the real him when he was with her. But none of this was practical.
They had too much between them. Past. Geography. More stubbornness than a herd of mules…
“I have to go,” she said.
“Sarge—”
But she didn’t let him finish. She threw open the door of the borrowed bedroom, collected her coat and purse, and ran into the frigid December air.
* * *
Gloria blinked out of the memory, feeling every ounce of pain and hurt she felt that night.
“I was really mean to you last year,” she murmured.
“You’re mean to me all the time, Sarge.” Asher was still close and he used the hand in her hair to tilt her face to his. “I like it.”
“You’re sick,” she said, giving him a small smile of her own. It felt so damn good to be held by him. To have her head cradled in his hand and his focus zeroed in on her—even in this sea of people, he made her feel like she was the only one who existed.
Out of her peripheral, she spotted Brice and Evan as they elbowed their way through the crowd.
“That was fast.” She looked up at Asher. “They’re back.”
He didn’t turn around or back away. Simply stood, one hand in her hair and one clasping her hip.
“We should probably—” She pressed her palms onto his chest, but Asher didn’t let her push him away. He stamped her mouth with his, pressing her body against his hard, warm muscles when he did.
Somewhere beyond her swirling mind and the heat radiating between them, she was aware of Evan muttering, “Ah, hell.”
Asher didn’t stop kissing her, and she couldn’t bring herself to stop either. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the flavor of his mouth, the feel of his firm lips, and the way his tongue knew when to spar and when to stroke.
No one kissed like Asher Knight.
He moved his mouth along hers, tilting her head with the press of calloused fingers to her jaw, and finished her off by gently dragging his teeth along her bottom lip. By the time he pulled his lips away and lowered her to her heels, her entire being was flushed and horny. If that kiss had happened anywhere but in public, they’d both have been wearing a hell of a lot less clothing by now.
Her fingers went to her lips as she slid her eyes to Evan, who still had his eyebrow raised, then to Brice, who looked a combo of confused and angry.
“Whiskey,” Evan offered a pair of drinks held in one hand, and kept hold of a beer for himself with the other. Asher took the cups and handed Gloria one.
“Thank you,” she mumbled, aware of three pairs of eyes trained on her.
“Cheers, Sarge.” Ash tapped his cup to hers and tossed back the whiskey. She followed suit and they threw their cups to the ground. There was a twinkle in his eye that said he’d known exactly what he’d just done.
I’m coming for you, Sarge.
“Asher, I was hoping to get a word.” Brice was holding his own beer and scowling.
Shit. Brice would probably expect an explanation from her, too. She didn’t have one. And she didn’t think saying “Because Asher” would get her off the hook.
“Glo, babe. Let’s talk business.” Evan moved to her, and she was grateful for the reprieve.
Whatever was about to happen, neither Brice nor Asher needed her input.
* * *
Hell, that was fun.
Not just kissing Gloria—that was always fun—but putting despair and jealousy on Brice’s proper mug. The jackass. After Evan had (smartly) moved several feet away, Gloria in tow, Asher turned to Brice.
“Nice setup, McGuire. Any band would be lucky to get this kind of gig.”
“Feeling the heat, Knight?” Brice stood, one hand in his pocket, Solo cup in the other.
“What heat?”
The other man tipped his head in Gloria’s direction. “She was having a good time with me before you got here. We were getting…close.”
Asher’s nostrils flared. “Didn’t notice. I was too busy kissing her.”
Brice laughed and Asher’s tendons went taut. This guy dug under his skin. He was pursuing Gloria, and from where Ash stood when he’d first spotted them dancing, it was working.
“Come on, Knight. We both know that kiss was to put me in my place.”
Okay, he’d admit partly to wanting to show Brice what Gloria meant to him, but once he’d put his lips on hers, Brice was the furthest thing from his mind. It’d been all about tasting her, melding with her, wanting her. He’d felt her give—go pliant beneath his touch—which meant he had a shot.
“Make you a deal,” Brice said. “You bring the band over to me for representation and I’ll stop pursuing Gloria.”
Asher couldn’t have heard that right. He took a step closer to Brice, fist curling at his side. “You’re gonna want to rethink that statement, McGuire. You think I’d let anyone use Gloria for anything, you’re a bigger asshole than I originally thought.”
Hitting him would be ill-advised—his PR person would kill him—yet so satisfying. Decisions, decisions…
“I’m not using her at all.” Brice was too calm. Asher didn’t like it. Didn’t trust it. “I was offering as a courtesy. I think she likes me.”
“I think you might see things differently when I drop you on your ass in front of all these people.” Ash tilted his head. Ill-advised or not, maybe just one solid hit. He’d break his nose and walk away. He was Asher Knight, after all. He may have a dog, a house, a son he was trying to get closer to, but that didn’t mean his edge was dulled. When it came to Gloria, this bastard needed to know she was out of fucking bounds.
“You need a new agent.” Brice sipped his beer, undeterred.
“So, not just an asshole, but a stupid one. You think I’d let you touch my band?”
“You’re a smart guy. You know the benefits of being linked with an agent with my connections. And soon, when Gloria agrees to partner with me, she and I will share lots of things. Clients. A federal ID number. Chicago.” He smiled smugly.
Chicago. Asher felt like he’d taken a punch to the gut.
“She just moved here, dumbass.” But Asher’s confidence had slipped a little. She’d partner with Brice McGuire over his dead body. “You have nothing to offer her.”
Not in business. Not personally. Asher would see to it.
Brice didn’t have a chance to respond because right then a very high-pitched squeal came from their left, followed by, “Oh my God! Are you Asher Knight?”
A blond girl, old enough to drink but Asher would guess not by much, wobbled over wearing knee-high, sparkly pink boots. Pink.
Worst timing ever, but if there was one thing he wasn’t willing to do it was snub a fan. He owed them. The fans made him who he was. They may forgive him for brawling in public, but not for ignoring one of their own.
“Tend to your groupie,” Brice said.
Definitely hitting him when he was done.
Asher turned to the girl and put a finger to his lips. He did his best to look coy. “Don’t tell, okay? I’m in disguise.”
“Oh my God,” the fan whispered this time. “I love you.” She cradled her red Solo cup and judging by the size of her pupils, whatever was in there wasn’t the only substance she’d had tonight. “Can I get a photo?”
“Sure thing, honey.” Quicker they got this over with the better. He always had time for fans, but he also had Brice’s face to smash in. Gloria took priority, and setting things straight needed to happen.
Ash went to the fan as she pulled a cell phone out and switched to selfie mode. In what he guessed was her signature pose, she pouted and snapped the picture while he gave a practiced smirk.
“Oh my God! Will you sign my body?” She tucked the phone back into her pocket. “I don’t have a pen.”
“Sharpie?” Brice offered, producing a black marker from his pocket.
Ash snatched it from him.
The blonde yanked the very low-cut neck of her shirt even lower and pointed out where she wanted Asher to sign. Tit. Of course. He scrawled his signature over her boob as requested.
He capped the marker and backed away while the girl snapped a selfie of his artwork. She was something else. And he’d bet she started every sentence with—
“Oh my God!”
That.
“Thank you!” she said, forcing her voice to a whisper when he held his finger to his lips again.
“Welcome.” He lifted his hand to wave and took a few steps away from her.
“I’m going to get it tattooed,” she called.
“Send me a picture.”
Her eyes glazed over the slightest bit. “Oh my God, really?”
Shit.
“Yeah, listen, honey, I gotta run.” He glanced around, noticing a few people in the crowd looking in his direction and whispering to each other in a way he knew meant they’d recognized him. Lucky for him, right then the band took the stage. Which gave him the perfect distraction as the crowd moved forward in anticipation. Evan and Gloria came back, narrowly avoiding the crush of the crowd pressing closer to the stage.
“Time to go,” Evan stated. He hadn’t missed a thing. Probably knew that Asher was about to get into a fight with Brice.
“Yeah.” Ash turned to Gloria. “Come on, I’m taking you home.”
Her eyebrows pulled down. “I’m not leaving. I want to hear the second set.”
“Uh, man.” Evan palmed his shoulder roughly and Asher saw that the blond girl had met a gaggle of other girls who were looking over at him.
Fuck. He’d been made.
“Come with me if you want to live,” Asher offered his hand, wanting to get Glo out of here and the hell away from Brice.
“I drove her here. I can drive her home,” Brice said.
Asher turned to him and his fist balled automatically. Then he spotted some of Evergreen Cove’s finest spread out along the edges of the crowd. The familiar face of Officer Brady Hutchins among them, who gave a chin lift like he’d also gleaned what was going on.
“Unless you wanna spend the night with Brice in jail, I suggest we go,” Evan said close to Asher’s ear. Totally had figured out what Ash was thinking.
Gloria either overheard or picked up on the tension. “I can’t believe you. Either of you. Whatever. I’m done.” She waved them off, then turned toward the stage and started hopping to the music.
Asher frowned.
Brice shrugged. “Say the word, I’ll back off.”
Asher leaned in close enough so Brice could hear him. “No is the word.”
He forced a cocky grin he knew would make Brice wonder what Asher was up to, then walked to Gloria, clasped her hip, and put his mouth to her ear.
“See you soon, Sarge. Don’t forget to miss me.”
When he backed away, she looked up at him—a little dazed and not just from the whiskey. He knew her. No matter what McGuire tried tonight, she wouldn’t touch him. Not after Asher had kissed her first. Which made coming out tonight worth it in every way.
