I don’t think the girls will turn me in, but even if they did, the police need more evidence than that.
But now that Rose has brought up a sketch artist, I can’t stop thinking about Asher and the sketches he has in his room.
Shit.
All I want to do is go home to him. But that’s wrong. So wrong.
Rose starts chatting with a group of people, and a couple of the guys try to include me, but I’m not interested in them, so I say my goodbyes and get a taxi home.
When I walk in the front door, I hear the TV on in the other room, and my chest fills with a swarm of butterflies.
Asher is home.
Straightening my shoulders, I run my fingers through the ends of my hair, letting the buzz of alcohol take over. Walking forward, my heels click loudly on the floorboards as I enter the open living room, only to stop short… The blonde slag from the other night is here again. She’s sitting with Asher on the couch, a blanket over their legs as they watch a movie.
You can’t kill her.
You can’t kill her.
You can’t kill her.
Fuck it. I really want to kill her.
The girl sits taller when she sees me, shooting me a friendly smile as she waves.
“Hi. We didn’t get to meet properly the other night.”
I don’t smile back, my eyes shifting to Asher who looks smug as hell as he lounges back on the couch like a spoiled king on his throne, the skank next to him one of his harem.
Unfortunately for Asher, that throne is mine, and I am the fucking queen.
I approach the two of them, and Asher sits a little taller while the blonde slag just flashes her teeth and flutters her fake lashes.
Bending, I grip the blanket, ripping it off their laps quickly, satisfied when I hear slagette gasp.
Did she ever tell me her name?
A quick assessment shows me that Asher and the slag weren’t touching under the blanket. In fact, there’s a decent gap between them, so I spin and plant my arse in the space, laying the blanket back over our laps.
“Oh,” slagette gasps again, shifting over to give me more room, but Asher doesn’t fucking move. No, he stays right there with his leg searing a trail against mine.
I don’t intend on moving either.
“What are we watching?” I ask, and before the slag gets a chance to speak, I recognise the movie. “Oh, I’ve seen this one. He dies in the end. It’s not really a romance. More like a love story. There’s no happily ever after.”
Slagette huffs, bouncing in her seat next to me, crossing her arms over her chest. “Well, now it’s ruined.”
The faint chuckle from Asher has me smirking, and I relax back into the soft pillow top cushions to watch the movie.
When Asher’s hand slides through the slit in my skirt to grip my thigh under the blanket, I don’t push it away.
Maybe it’s the alcohol buzzing through my veins, or maybe I’m territorial, but I simply don’t care if slagette catches me with Asher’s hand on my bare thigh. Instead, I let his warmth seep into me, and before I can stop myself, I rest my head on his shoulder and settle against him like he’s all mine.
CHAPTER 12
ASHER
The minute I feel Lily fall asleep against me, I grin. She can’t stay away. I knew she’d cave, eventually.
