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Listening for voices, I step cautiously out into the hallway in my short robe and hit something hard. It moves back, and I swing around to see who I hit. Asher. I pull the belt on my robe tight, but he’s looking over my head. He moves past me and steps into my room.
“I didn’t saycome in.”
Asher walks over to my laptop and stares at the ring setup. He fingers the cable and then turns around to face me. With a superior expression, he folds his arms and leans against the desk. “So, you are doing this again.”
I stand by the open door, glaring and pointing into the hallway. “Get out and stay out of my room.”
He doesn’t move. “I want to thank you for covering up, but you’re going to have to spend more time covering your ass if you start showing it off again.”
“Out,” I hiss, ready to shove him out the door. “That kiss meant nothing. And nothing else will ever happen.”
He runs a hand through his dark hair as if brushing off my words. He stands, circles me, and backs into the hallway but stops short while two people pass. Jaxon and a girl crowd the hallway, and they’re all jammed up like logs in a river. A different girl hangs off Jaxon, not the one making out with him at the party.
“Evening,” Jaxon smiles naughtily, “Just walking Hillary to her room.”
She’s not from our floor, and we watch him disappear down the hallway with the giggling girl. Asher glances over at me and then walks off to his room. I slam my door.
Fuck him and that kiss.
Howland taught me a cruel lesson: I have to earn real money if I want to have choices and not be controlled by men. Posing online for the price of a coffee isn’t going to sustain me for the long term. Astrid stresses to me that I don’t need to rely on a man. But she has four. I can’t let petty boy shit distract me from college and later, building my career. Why settle for an MRS degree when I can get an MBA?
Asher had better stay away from me, and he better not tell.
I swing my door open to run to the bathroom and brush my teeth, but I freeze before I can take another step. Asher stands framed in his doorway as if he’s waiting for me to appear. His strong arms stretch above his head as he grips the doorjamb. His beltless jeans hang low on his narrow hips. He only has on his jeans—no shirt or shoes. His bare chest is divided into a grid of hard muscles covered with smooth skin. He lets go of the open door and slowly walks with panther-like grace toward me.
My eyes refuse to look away. My legs won’t take one step back. I’m a statue made of marble, unable to run away. The only part of me that moves is my hand, trembling on the doorknob. My breathing fills my head as a bead of sweat travels down the side of my face. My body signals to him that I want to be touched.
Asher steps in front of me and reaches for my hand. He tugs it off the doorknob, and I let go one finger at a time. He walks into me, and I’m forced to take a step back.
“I was just going to the bathroom,” I whisper, “I need to leave.”
He glances at the laptop, and then his eyes are on me again as he locks the door. He places his hand on my chest, and my heart pounds against my ribs. He leans in to kiss me, and when I don’t lift my chin, his fingers lift it for me. My spit catches in my dry throat, and I can’t say no. Anything but a kiss. I can blame everything else on lust, except wanting his kisses.
His lips hover over mine, and my eyes gently close. I wait for the pressure, but he moves away, pressing his soft mouth against my neck instead. He slips my short robe off my shoulders and pauses as his gaze takes my body in. My thin cotton tank top and boy shorts barely cover my skin.
His lips press hard against the curve of my neck as his frantic fingers tug at the knit fabric. He yanks my top up, and I stumble backward. Instantly the backs of my knees connect with the narrow bed, and I fall, landing on my ass. Before I can move away, he’s climbing on top of me.
He can’t just take after he’s hurt me. He can’t act as if hurting me doesn’t mean a damn thing to him. He has to care, or why would he keep trying?
I press my hand against his chest. “No.” My voice is weak, but I know he heard me.
I try to crawl away, but he grabs my ankles and turns me lengthwise on my bed. My gaze attaches to the bulge in his jeans, and I shiver. I gaze into his eyes, pleading, but he smirks into my face. I don’t want my first time to be like this.
“Not me,” he says as if he reads minds. “Tonight, it’s you. I’ll make you want to say yes.”
He covers me with his body again, and I moan as his bare skin rubs against my breasts. He inches down lower and lower, covering my exposed skin with kisses as his fingers hook into my shorts. Oh God. I’m not wearing any underwear. He pulls my shorts down my legs, and I kick, trying to stop him. He yanks my thighs wide open, exposing me.
I sob because I know what he sees. I’m glistening. I still want him. I shut my eyes tight and cover my burning cheeks with my hands. His breath hits my inner thighs, and my body tenses until I feel his mouth. He kisses my skin, and I’m wetter with each lick. I move my hips, wanting him to kiss my wet slit.
I reach a hand down to grab his hair, but instead, I hold him down and push my hips against his face. I should be ashamed, but I can’t think while his fingers hold me apart and his tongue gently strokes. I moan, pressing firmly against the squeaky bed as his tongue circles around my swelling clit.
I push my face into the pillow to cover my moans as his tongue takes its time exploring my drenched folds. I hiss when he hits the sweetest spot, holding my arms out to my sides and tugging the thin sheet off the bed. Panting, I look down, and he’s watching me while taking mental notes. I bury my face in my pillow again.
His fingers don’t enter me. Instead, he only uses his tongue. I gasp as the release shocks me, and my open legs spasm against the bed. I’ve never shaken like that before, and while I drift down, I stroke my nails through his glossy dark hair.
He lifts his face from between my legs, and his mouth shines with my juices. We lock our gazes, and I watch as he licks his lips clean.
“We’ll enjoy keeping each other’s secrets,” he says as he gets off my bed. He kisses my hair, the spot where those bitches shaved me, and then he quietly slips out of my room, shutting the door behind him.
