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“You’re not wearing that in public.” With only a towel wrapped around his hips, he stalks toward me. “Not only does that show off what is mine, but I’ll have a constant hard-on. Find something else.”
“I don’t want to go to the beach.” The words tumble from my lips without my brain okaying it. I can’t look at him as embarrassment floods my system. Will he ignore the request and drag me along anyway? Usually, I just go with whatever others want to do, not making my needs or wants known.
He growls and drags his eyes over my body, stopping at my thighs. His body language goes from agitated to understanding. My shoulders lower, curving in around me, and I pick at my fingers. Asher comes to me, cupping my face in his palms.
“There’s one of those net hammock things out back. We can lay out there instead. Sand in your ass crack is the worst anyway.” He shrugs and strides for his dresser for shorts.
Now I feel like shit. Did he really want to go to the beach? Am I keeping him from what he wants from his time here?
“No.” I rush forward. “You can still go. It’s fine. I’ll just lay on the deck and read or something.”
My chest is tight as I try to backpedal. I should have just kept my mouth shut. Ideas race through my head as I try to find a solution. I can change into a dirty pair of shorts that cover the scars or wear something wrapped around my waist.
I’m rocking back and forth, not really seeing the room or Asher anymore until he grabs my face and turns it up to his.
“Hey.” He pulls me against him. “I want to spend time with you. The where doesn’t matter. Plus, out here, I can touch you without worrying who will see.”
On the back deck is one of those nets hung in a frame that you can lay on over the water. The breeze is amazing, and at this time of the day, it’s covered in shade, so we don’t need to worry too much about sunblock.
With my book and brownie, I sit on the edge of the deck with my feet in between the squares of the net, waiting for Asher.
He found the liquor bottles in the cabinet and the small fridge of mixers, so he’s making something for us to drink. It’s probably not my best plan to get drunk while also getting high, but I’m past the point of caring, and honestly, it’s not the first time. My head needs a break from all the thinking and feeling.
I open the brownie and pop a piece in my mouth—the damn thing is huge, like the size of my palm—and open my book. Skimming the pages, trying to find something that grabs my attention, when Asher comes out with a bottle of what looks like vodka held against his chest and a stack of shot glasses.
“Change of plans.”
I lift an eyebrow as he stops at one of the tables on the deck with a big tic-tac-toe board. He clears off the pieces and sets up the shot glasses, one in each square, then starts filling them.
“Are we getting wasted?” I eye him warily.
“Yup. Go grab some chasers from the fridge.”
I huff but pick up my brownie and book to sit on the chair and head to grab some sodas, an orange juice, and a cranberry juice.
Sometimes I need the chaser, but I might power through it this time just because. I’ve spent a lot of the last six years in a bottle and can drink people twice my size under the table.
I’m halfway to the table when I notice Asher has my brownie.
“Dude, this is delicious, where did you get it?” He’s eaten half the damn thing. Oops.
“Uh, from the bartender at Midnight Lounge.” I set the drinks down on the table and snatch the treat from him, quickly shoving it into my mouth. I’m going to be so high in an hour. Oh well.
“Has kind of a weird aftertaste.” He grabs a Mountain Dew and takes a swig.
I roll my lips between my teeth but don’t say anything. Maybe he’ll learn to stay out of my shit. I doubt it, but it’s worth a shot, right?
“Okay, take a shot to claim your square,” Asher tells me, waving a wand over the board. “X or O?”
“I’ll be O.” I grab a corner glass and swallow the vodka in one go with barely a hiss. Both of Asher’s eyebrows shoot up, but he doesn’t say anything. I set the glass in front of him and wait for him to take the middle spot, because he always does. His face scrunches up, and he quickly takes a drink of his soda, which makes me laugh.
I grab the opposite corner and toss it back. It’s smooth as fuck, barely burns.
“Seriously? No chaser?”
“Nope.” I pop the P and wait for him to go.
Asher shakes his head and snags a corner shot, leaving just one and playing right into what I want him to do.
