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With a warm but determined smile, she turns back to the couple. “I think your daughter is in good hands.”
Tension gathers in the crowded room until it’s thick enough to cut with a knife.
It’s a relief that Sue has kindly told them to go home. The last thing I need is for the three of them to shadow my every movement throughout the day, waiting impatiently for the results. I get it—they’re pinning all their hopes on me to save their daughter, but having them here, staring at me like I’m nothing more than a potential organ, isn’t helping matters.
Charlotte and Kylie reluctantly rise to their feet before Sue escorts all three from the room. As soon as she closes the door, I wilt in relief. One stride is all it takes for Asher to close the distance between us and take me in his arms before crushing me against his chest.
“That was a lot of information to take in. Are you still good?” He presses his lips to the top of my head.
“Yeah. I’m just glad they’re gone.” I don’t understand why everything feels so much better when I’m cocooned in his strong embrace.
“I know.” There’s a pause. “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again—you can change your mind at any time. You don’t have to go through with this.”
I bury my face against the warmth of his sweatshirt. “At the very least, I’m going to complete the testing. One step at a time,” I remind, unwilling to look any further into the future until we have more information.
“Just remember that you don’t owe Tony or his family anything. Hell, we both know it’s the other way around.”
That might be true, but my heart still goes out to Kylie. It’s the only reason I’m sitting in this office, contemplating this procedure. It has nothing to do with Tony whatsoever.
We break apart when there’s a soft knock on the door and Sue pokes her head in. “They’re ready for you, Lola.”
I draw in a deep breath, holding it captive in my lungs before gradually releasing it with a nod. Asher slips my hand into his and squeezes it tightly. No matter what happens today, this man is here for me and that’s more than I can say for anyone else.
30
LOLA
“I’m ready for a break,” Asher says with a stretch, his thickly corded arms reaching for the ceiling as we study in the library on one of my rare nights off from the restaurant. “How about you?”
My attention gets snagged by the movement as I watch the play of sinewy muscle. Holy hell, the man has the best arms. All that tightly harnessed pow—
“Lola?”
My gaze reluctantly snaps to his face and the smirk now lifting his lips. “Hmmm?”
“See something you like, baby girl?”
Heat floods my cheeks as arousal bursts to life in my core.
Ugh. He’s so damn smug.
I’m not saying that he doesn’t have a right to be…
But still.
It hasn’t taken him long to figure out that I go a little stupid when I see the bulging muscles of his biceps.
I shift on the chair and clench my thighs, trying to stymie the arousal flooding through me. Asher has spent the last two hours studying for a test in Comms. It’s the last one before the final at the end of the semester. It’s important that he does well.
“Nope, not at all,” I lie, attempting to play it cool.
He pops a brow. “You sure about that?”
“Yup.”
“So…this doesn’t do anything for you?” He brings his arms down, flexing them until all the muscles tighten and swell.
My mouth turns cottony as a straight shot of need explodes in my core. “No. Is it supposed to?”
His eyes narrow. “Methinks you’re lying, woman.”
I shake my head as my gaze stays focused on his arms. “Sorry, I’m just not that interested.”
He lays both palms on the table before rising from his chair.
I blink as a thrill shoots through me. “What are you doing?”
“Proving that you’re a liar,” he growls.
Before I can respond, he stalks around the rectangular table and wraps his hands around my ribcage, hauling me up from my chair. After he settles on it, I find myself perched on his lap.
“You need to keep working. We shouldn’t take a break just yet.”
“Why not?” His fingers tighten around me, locking me in place.
Just as my mouth ghosts over his, my phone buzzes, startling both of us.
“Don’t pick it up,” he groans. “Let it go to voicemail.”
I glance at the screen but don’t recognize the number. A wave of anxiety crashes over me, dousing the arousal that had flared to life so unexpectedly.
“Who is it?”
“I don’t know,” I whisper, meeting his gaze.
When my mouth dries for a second time, it’s for entirely different reasons. I’ve been an anxious ball of tightly wound nerves waiting for the results of my tests and the committee’s decision.
