Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
When I push the door open, getting ready to offer a “goodnight” over my shoulder, I’m shocked to feel him walking in behind me.
I spin on him. “What are you doing?”
Asher gives me a wicked smile and shuts my door, casually turning the deadbolt. “Staying the night.”
“I didn’t invite you,” I reply, and then taunt a little. “You said I wore you out at the club tonight.”
“You did.” He smiles slyly before stalking through my living room. I follow him down my hallway until he looks into the room he decides is mine—which is because the other has just a twin bed for Hope—and walks in there. He turns to face me. “But I’ll be recharged come morning, and I’m bound and determined to have you on a weekend.”
My eyes widen as understanding dawns. “You want to sleep here tonight, just because I told you I get weekends off, and you want to prove you’re really in charge by fucking me on a Saturday morning?”
“I’ll be satisfied with a blow job.” When he grins at me, I strangely don’t want to slap it off his face.
Oddly, I want him to stay the night. I wouldn’t mind starting my morning off with a little bit of Asher.
“I get up early,” I warn. “I like to be out of here by seven to go pick up Hope.”
Asher pulls his phone out, then starts tapping on the screen. Raising his head, he says, “I just set the alarm for six.”
Jesus, I’m going to be tired tomorrow. It’s just after one now, and I’m not even sure I can fall asleep with Asher in bed beside me.
But I can’t say no to him, either. “Fine,” I say blandly as I move past him to my dresser. I pull out a pair of pajamas—a cute short and t-shirt set—and slide the drawer shut. “But if you’re a snorer, you have to move out to the couch.”
Laughing, Asher lunges toward me. He snatches the pajamas out of my hands, tossing them to the floor. “Get naked. I want to feel your skin against mine tonight. Plus, it’ll be easy access in the morning.”
There’s a womanly part of me that responds to the intimacy of those words, as noted by a strange thudding in my chest. I hold onto it as I watch Asher start to get undressed, and then I follow along.
After I turn out the lights, we slip into bed. We face each other, lying on our sides. In a million years, I would never expect him to pull me into his arms to sleep, and he doesn’t. He just smiles at me in the moonlight before murmuring, “Goodnight, Hannah.”
“Goodnight,” I reply and close my eyes.
Despite my misgivings, I fall right asleep.
CHAPTER 15
Asher
As I drive to my father’s house the next Saturday night, I wonder what Hannah is doing. This morning was the second week in a row that I woke up in her bed.
I did the same thing I did last week and fucked her. Rolled her onto her stomach, spread her legs, and took her from behind. Christ, I came so hard I almost passed out. Just as good as every time before… if not better.
But when I left this morning, there was one dramatic difference.
I’d felt compelled to kiss her goodbye, and I did so without any thought. She’d looked surprised.
I felt surprised.
All day, I brooded about why I would so thoughtlessly do something that showed fondness for Hannah, and then I wondered about why I cared enough to brood about it.
So I hit the gym and lifted. Afterward, I ran five miles, thinking about Hannah the whole time. She’d said she didn’t have any set plans for the day. With a goofy smile of excitement on her face, she told me she liked to do whatever Hope wanted to before she pushed me out of bed to leave. At mile four, I found myself wondering if Hannah would think of me today. By the time I finished, I’d concluded I was turning into a girl.
It was my father’s phone call, insisting both his children have dinner at his house, that finally drove the consuming thoughts of Hannah far from my mind.
Sure, my dad and I occasionally meet in town for dinner and drinks, but I can’t remember the last time I’d been to his house for such an occasion. Certainly not since my mother died three years ago. She’d suffered a heart attack at age sixty that had killed her quickly.
It was horrible losing her. The pain I felt was so intense, and I’d realized it was the first time I’d felt much of anything since Michelle died. It took losing my mother to realize how much I’d inadvertently disconnected from life, from my family.
I can’t say enough good things about the way Christina and our mom supported me after Michelle’s death. Even though I know it killed them, they did so at arm’s length, somehow understanding I needed supportive space more than anything else. I got encouraging and loving phone calls and texts. We’d meet for lunch sometimes, and the talk would always be light and inconsequential.