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“Welcome to the twenty-first century. This isn’t what is considered kissing anymore, but getting you off. I want to hear you lose your shit and break down this wall that you got between us.”
“Why are you so adamant on this, Asher? I’ve literally watched you date all my friends.”
And there it is.
She’s had to of seen how not serious I was about everyone else and that old saying of being another notch on someone’s bedpost I’m sure has rung out in her head a time or two.
“I’m not gonna lie,” I emit. “I was hoping I’d get your attention.”
“You did,” she grounds out. “Just not in a good way. You broke Alexandra’s heart.”
I scoff. “Alexandra was fucking Tim Froth behind my back.” Owl-wide eyes flick up to mine, and they’re absolutely stunning. I wish she’d hold me in them forever. “She was just afraid I was going to call her out on it, so she played victim.”
Magnolia’s eyes wander somewhere else in the kitchen, causing me to put more pressure along her center and receive a glorious moan from her lips. “What about Michelle Gunthers?”
“You really wanna talk about other women when I’m trying to see if I can get you to soak through your panties and sweats, Magnolia? Because if you do, let me remind you, that I’m used to locating my opponent's weaknesses, and I’m already well aware of yours.”
“You do not,” she haughtily retorts back. “I don’t have—” I bend all the way forward, nustling my head between her shoulder and neck and give a small, wet lick to the column of her throat. “You said no kissing.”
“You said no kissing,” I answer back, my tone dipping dark into a cloud of lust and impatience. “And I didn’t kiss you yet. Not unless you tell me to. Which can be at any moment now.” My mouth brushes her flesh when I ask, “Do you want to feel my greedy lips all over you, Mags, because I want to eat you alive right the fuck now.”
Her small palm lands on my tricep and squeezes. “Asher, we need to get back inside—”
“Let me do this,” I practically beg, breathing her in again and reveling in the fact that I’m touching my future girl’s cunt—sorta. “You don’t know how much I’ve wanted you just like this. Not fleeing away from me, speaking more than two words, and allowing me to touch you because you drive me crazy.”
I can hear her labored pants in my ear as she fights back her build-up. She can go head-to-head with me any time, any day, and I’ll still take this. Because my end game involves her wearing my name and me at night. I’ve wanted this girl since grade fucking school, and I’ve watched her grow up, fill out, and date everyone else but me.
And the only reason why I allowed my fellow fuckhead of friends to ask her out was because I knew they’d screw up. I didn’t want Magnolia to have her heartbroken, but I knew she wasn’t stupid.
However, when Harrison moved in on her, I swore I wasn’t going to play nice and take the higher road going forward. She’s on a no-date list and I’ve made myself perfectly clear that the next person that tries to ask her out is going to literally have to fight me for her.
I’m done playing.
I want what I want, and that’s Magnolia Burrows. And there’s no one in this town that’s going to pull what my current rival did to me then.
“Asher.” My name is a mixture between need and resistance to what this is. What her and I could become if she’d just drop her case on me and let me in.
“Does that feel good?” She bobs her head and I want more, but aware that this is the only way she’s going to open up to me is if I take this slow and at her pace. “I swear you’re a wet dream for me, Mags. You literally drive me insane with how sexy you are.”
“You need to stop looking at football players all day, then,” she breathes.
I chuckle. “Yeah, you’re probably right. However, it didn’t help when you were sitting on the bleachers last week.”
“I was helping Miranda with notes for the school paper.”
“Yeah? How did I look out there?” She groans as I delve deeper between her legs toward her entrance. “NFL worthy?”
“You’ve always been NFL worthy, Ash.”
I don’t miss that she calls me by my nickname like everyone else and I like that. I’d also like to see what else she’d call me if we were in a more intimate setting with her naked.
“Quit treating me normal,” I chide her softly. “You’re making this harder for me.”
“Why are you doing this to me?” she almost whines. “I told you that I didn’t want to date you.”
“Because I think you’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
