After being hurt so badly the last time, there was no way she could allow herself to be that vulnerable again. So, yeah. She recognized that something happened. But she didn’t have to admit it. Deflection was her only ally.
“We both needed that, but let’s not make this into a thing.” She went to a mirror on the wall under the pretense of fixing her hair.
“A thing?” He stalked up behind her. Still naked. Still beautiful. She tried to keep her eyes on her own reflection. And failed. He was a study of shadowed, lean muscle. Cut abs, rounded pecs, tattoos—flowers, a skull, the cross on his arm—sketched permanently onto his olive skin. Just so sexy he made her teeth hurt. “Are you shittin’ me right now?”
She so was. But giving in meant they’d continue this discussion. And then what? Asher was about to go home to LA. She was about to go home to Chicago. How could either of them act on the level of intimacy they’d just experienced? They couldn’t.
She tore her eyes off his reflection and spun on him. “This wasn’t a new beginning for you and me, Asher. You knew what this was before we came up here. A blow job and sex and then we both return to our regularly scheduled lives.”
Her own words cut into her. Deep. Deeper than before because part of her was already too vulnerable to him. Dammit! Why hadn’t she said no?
“You think that’s what you are to me?” His expression was downright murderous.
She didn’t think that. Part of her thought he might be the man who held the key to figuring out who she was. To letting her be who she was. The real her. Another part of her believed that Ash was the real him when he was with her. But none of this was practical.
They had too much between them. Past. Geography. More stubbornness than a herd of mules…
“I have to go,” she said.
“Sarge—”
But she didn’t let him finish. She threw open the door of the borrowed bedroom, collected her coat and purse, and ran into the frigid December air.
*
Gloria blinked out of the memory, feeling every ounce of pain and hurt she felt that night.
“I was really mean to you last year,” she murmured.
“You’re mean to me all the time, Sarge.” Asher was still close and he used the hand in her hair to tilt her face to his. “I like it.”
“You’re sick,” she said, giving him a small smile of her own. It felt so damn good to be held by him. To have her head cradled in his hand and his focus zeroed in on her—even in this sea of people, he made her feel like she was the only one who existed.
Out of her peripheral, she spotted Brice and Evan as they elbowed their way through the crowd.
“That was fast.” She looked up at Asher. “They’re back.”
He didn’t turn around or back away. Simply stood, one hand in her hair and one clasping her hip.
“We should probably—” She pressed her palms onto his chest, but Asher didn’t let her push him away. He stamped her mouth with his, pressing her body against his hard, warm muscles when he did.
Somewhere beyond her swirling mind and the heat radiating between them, she was aware of Evan muttering, “Ah, hell.”
Asher didn’t stop kissing her, and she couldn’t bring herself to stop either. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the flavor of his mouth, the feel of his firm lips, and the way his tongue knew when to spar and when to stroke.
No one kissed like Asher Knight.
He moved his mouth along hers, tilting her head with the press of calloused fingers to her jaw, and finished her off by gently dragging his teeth along her bottom lip. By the time he pulled his lips away and lowered her to her heels, her entire being was flushed and horny. If that kiss had happened anywhere but in public, they’d both have been wearing a hell of a lot less clothing by now.
Her fingers went to her lips as she slid her eyes to Evan, who still had his eyebrow raised, then to Brice, who looked a combo of confused and angry.
“Whiskey,” Evan offered a pair of drinks held in one hand, and kept hold of a beer for himself with the other. Asher took the cups and handed Gloria one.
“Thank you,” she mumbled, aware of three pairs of eyes trained on her.
“Cheers, Sarge.” Ash tapped his cup to hers and tossed back the whiskey. She followed suit and they threw their cups to the ground. There was a twinkle in his eye that said he’d known exactly what he’d just done.
I’m coming for you, Sarge.
“Asher, I was hoping to get a word.” Brice was holding his own beer and scowling.
Shit. Brice would probably expect an explanation from her, too. She didn’t have one. And she didn’t think saying “Because Asher” would get her off the hook.
“Glo, babe. Let’s talk business.” Evan moved to her, and she was grateful for the reprieve.
Whatever was about to happen, neither Brice nor Asher needed her input.
*
Hell, that was fun.
Not just kissing Gloria—that was always fun—but putting despair and jealousy on Brice’s proper mug. The jackass. After Evan had (smartly) moved several feet away, Gloria in tow, Asher turned to Brice.
“Nice setup, McGuire. Any band would be lucky to get this kind of gig.”
“Feeling the heat, Knight?” Brice stood, one hand in his pocket, Solo cup in the other.