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Asher closes the door behind him to my horror and I can't help but panic a little as he flicks the lock shut.
"What do we need to talk about?" I ask as I stand awkwardly in my jeans and bra.
He stands in front of me, hands in his jean pockets as he surveys me carefully. "You said you were going to leave. Why?"
"What?" I say with genuine confusion. His expression darkens as he steps closer.
"You said you couldn't wait to leave. So where is it that you think you are going?"
I drop my arms to my sides, annoyed at his audacity. "As soon as I can, I'm moving away from here."
"Right," he says, his body stopping inches from mine. "So my question is, why?"
I hold his challenging gaze, not prepared to back down. "Because I don't want to be here," I answer simply. "So you can shove your Aston Martin up your asshole because the first gust of wind, I'm flying solo."
Asher tips his chin up, a crooked smile tugging on his lips. "And let me guess, money is the problem?"
Scoffing, I step back, turning around to walk towards my closet. "Of course it is. Not all of us have trust funds, pretty boy. And any money left over from dad's inheritance has just been filtered into a bloody country ranch."
I start shoving clothes along the rack, searching for a shirt when Asher's voice pipes up from the bedroom.
"Play with me."
I pause, unsure if I heard him correctly. I let go of the shirt in my hand and move to the closet entrance. "What did you just say?"
Asher's eyes light up with fire as he watches my face carefully. "Play with me. Let's play a game. If you win, I'll give you the money to leave."
Laughter escapes from my mouth and I lean on the door frame. "And for argument's sake, what would you get if you win?"
"Your sweet little Chevy."
"No deal," I say, ending the conversation as I walk back into the closet. "That was my dad's car. I'll be dead before I see it go to the likes of you."
Asher hums in thought. "So you're not convinced you'll win then. Fair enough. If the costs are too high…"
Fucking bastard.
I rip a shirt off the hanger and storm back out. "I'm not at all worried about losing. But I wouldn't put it past you to cheat. And I won't risk losing the last piece of my dad I have. I'll find my own way out."
Turning, I face my back towards him as I start fiddling with the shirt. I hear his soft footsteps approaching but I pay them no mind.
"So you're scared then?"
"Fuck you," I respond, spinning around to shove a finger in his chest. "I'm not scared, and I'd kick your ass."
Asher looks down at me, tilting his head with a cocked eyebrow. "Prove it."
"Prove what?"
"That you're not scared. Show me that you can play in the big leagues and I'll consider changing my prize."
I roll my eyes as I place my hand on my hip. "Really? And what would you have me do to prove my 'confidence'," I say with finger quotations.
A dark look rolls over his features, making me suck in a breath. Slowly, he steps back, his head turning towards my bed. I follow his line of vision, my temperature rising as it falls on Pinkie, who is still abandoned on the floor next to the bed. Asher turns to look back at me, his firm jaw raised as the challenge grows in his eyes.
"Make yourself come. Right here, right now."
"You're sick." I shake my head, crossing my arms. "I'm not going to masturbate in front of you. Despite the fact you could probably use some pointers on how to pleasure a woman, I'm not giving you the privilege of seeing my bits."
