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“You’re not supposed to be here,” I breathe over the tangible tension in the air.
His eyes finally slide back to my face, the corner of his mouth pulling up in a smirk. “Is that so?”
Is he…flirting right now?
He steps into the shower. He’s wearing a black T-shirt and jeans.
I move back. The shower stall is too small to fit us both. He reaches a hand up and I gulp, my heart almost jumping out of my chest.
He flips the knob behind me, turning the water off. I’m all naked and wet while he’s fully clothed.
That’s unfair.
“What are you doing, Ash?” My voice is just above a murmur.
A part of me thinks he’ll douse me with water like he did the other time, but the other part? That part wants him to take me against the wall.
He places a finger on my lips. “Shhh.”
The mere contact makes my skin hyperaware of him, everything about him—his presence, that subtle sandalwood scent, the way his hair falls on his forehead.
Everything about him pushes my buttons. I’m so helplessly drawn to him it’s becoming stupid.
His thumb skids across my lower lip and I willingly part them. He trails a path to my cheek, leaving tingles in his wake.
It’s like he’s fascinated with the act of touching me, like he can’t believe he’s actually doing it.
The thing is, when he thinks I’m not paying attention, Asher watches me, too. Late at night, he stays right under my window as if he can see through the curtains.
He works out near the pool where I always study.
Even if he doesn’t have classes, he won’t leave campus unless I do.
“You’re driving me fucking crazy, prom queen,” he growls, gripping me harshly by the nape.
I wrap my arms around his neck. “You drive me crazy, too.”
Something flashes in his eyes, something feral and out of control, and then his lips crush to mine.
Asher doesn’t kiss; he stakes his claim. It’s all passionate and heated like he can’t get enough of me, like kissing me is the sole purpose of his existence.
My back hits the wall and I moan into his mouth. I climb up his body, wrapping my legs around his waist.
Even though he’s clothed, I can feel the heat radiating off him. It’s so similar to the scorching fire going through me.
The passion.
The madness.
It’s funny how I used to think Asher was cold. He’s certainly not right now.
He’s so warm, it’s unfair.
“Fuck.” He yanks his lips away from mine as if he
doesn’t want to do this, like it pains him to kiss me.
He doesn’t move away, though. His mouth is close to mine as his chest rises and falls with harsh, uneven breaths.
