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Asher's words snap me out of my haze. "Huh?"
Grabbing the shower door, he starts to climb in while maintaining eye contact with me. "You said you liked pain. Well, so do I." He steps into the stream of water and I watch mesmerized as it makes his skin shine. His muscles pop as the water runs down the crevices of his body. A trail drips down his six pack, hitting his hard length and I watch as he arches his back, putting his head under the water.
He runs his hands through his hair, the muscles on his shoulder blades flexing with the movement. Part of me is oddly tempted to jump in the shower. Another part wants to run out the door. But neither are acceptable so I stay frozen.
Asher reaches for his soap, lathering up his body. I turn to look at the sink, trying to act normal. But let's be honest, nothing about this situation or arrangement are fucking normal.
"Little sis," he hums, and I hesitantly look back at him. He smirks, his hand running soap over his dick.
"No relieving yourself," I hiss at him.
He laughs and shakes his head, his fingers gently trailing over the ridges. "I'm just washing myself."
My thighs clench involuntarily as I do my best to ignore the taunting feelings burning inside of me. I shouldn't feel this way. I shouldn't be effected this way. I hate how he makes me react and how excited I am to win the game. The thought reminds me to take control, doing what I do best and avoid emotions. I concentrate hard, focusing on swallowing down the bitter taste of need. I've grown to detach myself from people, only using them for my own needs and never needing to rely on anyone. That's why I choose thewham-bam-thank you-ma'amapproach. No connections or attachments, mean no chance of getting hurt. And not seeing them again, is the tea that sweetens the deal.
Which is why, I could never,ever, allow myself to cross that boundary with Asher.
Standing up, I switch off the internal screaming and look at Asher smugly. "Wash yourself all you like. Just remember, no coming. Just give it a few more long hours, I'm sure it will…die down."
I head out of the bathroom, straight for my bedroom where I grab my phone. I need to get out of here. I'm desperate for a distraction, to distract from the tug-o-war inside.
My phone dings with a reply almost immediately, and I blow out a sigh of relief when I open Butch's text.
Butch: Hey love. Yeh, we're here @ Wheels. Need a ride in?
Bless his cotton socks and balaclava. I arrange a lift with him, throwing on a pair of tight jeans and a grey tank top. Crossing the room to my drawers, I shift around the top shelf, pushing aside my bras to grab a wad of cash. It's more than I need, since I'll be using their own money against them soon enough, but I always like to be prepared.
The familiar sound of a motorcycle speeding up the driveway catches my attention a short time later, and I burst out of my room, down the stairs. Butch is waiting for me at the bottom of the entrance, a lit cigarette in his hand.
"Hey, Lee. How's it hanging?"
He offers me the cigarette, and I take it eagerly, inhaling until I feel my lungs burn. Exhaling, I hand it back to him.
"I feel like I'm spiralling," I admit.
Butch reaches into the bike box, pulling out a second helmet. He hands it to me, nodding. "We'll sort you out. V will be stoked to see you."
I laugh, pulling the helmet onto my head. "First rounds on me. Any players in tonight?"
The bike rumbles as he swings his leg over, shuffling forward to make room for me. "Yeah, love. Going to wipe the floor with them?"
"Absolutely."
Climbing on the bike behind him, I lock my arms around his waist ready to ride. Butch revs the bike twice, kicking up the stand. As we start to move away from the entrance, I glance back up at the house. Asher's bedroom light is on, illuminating his body as he stands staring at me from the window. A towel hangs low on his waist and when our eyes lock, he holds up two fingers.
"Round two," he mouths, giving me a wink as we pull away into the night.
Chapter nine
"Whoa,slowdown,Ry.You're going to get plastered."
I knock back another shot of whiskey, waving my hand carelessly at Vito.
"I need this," I mutter, signalling to Volts for another round. Vito stops Volts for a moment, putting his large tattooed hand on my forearm.
"Want to tell me what's going on?"
I glance at Volts with puppy-dog eyes, but he crosses his arms. "Yeah, I wanna know what's going on too. Tell us and then I'll consider giving you another round," he says.
