He stiffens, moving his head to the side to better gauge my expression.
His fingers find my chin and he forces my face up to his. “What's that supposed to mean?”
Swinging up in double time, I quickly dip away, dodging his attempt at grabbing me again. Ha!
“I hear Punk is throwing a party here tonight in the pool house.” I unzip my crop hoodie, slowly creating more distance between us.
His eyes fall to my chest when I drop it over the arm of the chair.
“Yeah.” His attention snaps back to my face. “Not really my scene.”
“Thanks for the content last night,” I tease, backing up slowly. “It was just what I needed to finish myself off.” I wave my hand around. “You know, with my vivid imagination.”
He doesn't wince or flush. Remaining cool and collected, he shifts forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “If you pay attention, Venom, you'll find you don't have to use that imagination of yours at all…”
I was playing, but now I'm curious.
I hold his stare, unwilling to back down as hellfire spreads through my bloodstream.
He lowers his phone onto his thigh, angling his head to the side. It’s like he’s waiting for me to say it.
“I'm married.” Okay that’s not what I was supposed to say.
His expression darkens, muscles tensing beneath his skin. “And I don't give a fuck.”
“There you are!” Camille dances into the room. Her presence isn't enough to cut the tension between us, but kudos to her for trying.
Asher doesn't look away, not even when he places a hand on her hip, holding her in place.
Footsteps patter in as Punk and Atlas trail behind. Punk clicks her fingers at me. “You have to come tonight, Ivy! Meet some of the people who are partaking in the games!”
I lean forward and open the Van Cleef box. “I don't think that's a good idea. Besides, I might be the oldest there…”
“Eh, wrong!” Punk glares at me. “Parker would be!” Her smile is innocent.
“Parker would be what?” he announces, stepping into the sinking lounge. Obviously waking on the right side of the bed, he places a kiss on the top of my head, curling my long hair around his finger.
“Be the oldest in the club,” Asher repeats, staring up at him.
Parker snickers. “I sure as fuck will be. But we'll come.” He leans down, his lips skimming my temple.
Out of instinct, or whatever, my eyes land on Asher and my world tilts. Once again, his face is fixed with that same look. Tight, tense, annoyed—rage.
Parker chuckles as he disappears into the kitchen, and this time when I find Asher, he's glaring directly at me. What is his problem? Now it's become obvious that he and Parker are beefing with something. Is it my place to ask?
No. I also don't care.
“Good!” Punk claps her hand, drawing my attention back to her. “I'm so glad!” She pushes away from Atlas, her expression vacant and distant.
I don’t know how long I stand there for. Seconds. Minutes. When I’m the only one left in the room, I make my way upstairs toward mine and Parker’s room.
My feet barely land on the top step when a hand is around my arm and I’m being thrown against a wall.
Asher’s frame towers over me. “He fucked you yet? Or are you both still doing the celibate thing?”
My mouth opens to answer, but instead I try to shove at his chest. “Go away, Ash—”
—he catches my wrist and uses his knees to spread my legs wide. “I can help, if you want?” His lips trace my temple, gentle, considering. Everything is on fire. Every fucking thing.Jesus.
