He clears his throat, standing and fumbling with his belt. “Mia...” His voice is rough, low, but he doesn’t finish whatever he intended to say.
I swallow hard, wishing I could vanish. “This wasn’t... I didn’t…” I trail off, heat flooding my cheeks all over again. God, I can’t believe Asher just saw that.
Damon bends down, offering me a hand. I take it, letting him pull me up. The last echoes of pleasure still tingle in my body, but the humiliation is so overpowering, I can hardly think.
“You okay?” he asks, his voice subdued, maybe even a little apologetic.
I press a trembling hand to my forehead. “No. I’m not.”
He motions like he might reach for me, but then seems to think better of it. We just... didthat, but now there’s this chasmof awkwardness between us. My heart still thuds in my chest, and I’m pretty sure my face is the color of a tomato.
I glance toward the door, mortification swirling in my chest. “Do you think he... heard anything?”
Damon snorts softly, though there’s no humor in it. “I think it’s safe to say Asher got the picture.”
“Asher...” I squeeze my eyes shut. “That’s not how I wanted him to find out.” Or anyone, for that matter. “This is a disaster,” I groan.
Damon frowns at that. “Why are you so bothered?”
“Are you kidding me?” I say. “Your colleague just caught us having sex on the floor!”
“Asher can keep his mouth shut,” Damon says matter-of-factly, which almost drives me crazy.
“Are you serious?” I say.
“Yeah, but I’m not sure what you’re getting at here.” He steps up to me. “This isn’t a mistake. You aren’t a mistake. Period.”
Despite myself, my heart skips a beat.
“Why do you care so much about what Asher thinks?” Damon says. “He can and will mind his business.”
He’s right. Why do I care? Is it just because of the kiss we shared in the kitchen while he baked cookies for my daughters? Is it because I kissed Zane as well?
What am I even doing? This isn’t me.
I rake a hand through my hair. “I need to get out of here.”
Before Damon can say anything else, I walk out of the room.
We find Asher standing in the hallway just outside the room, his back to us, staring out the window.
“Everything okay in there?” he asks without turning around, his voice a little too calm, a little too measured. His words echo what he was saying earlier, but it sounds different this time. He’s not his usual cheery self anymore. Instead, his hands are clenched tightly by his side.
Damon clears his throat, stepping out beside me. “Just teaching our client about tactical awareness,” he says.
Asher turns then, his gaze flicking between us, his expression unreadable. “By tackling her?”
Of course, he’s too polite to point out that Damon was missing his pants in there.
“I get it,” I snap, stepping away from them both. My clothes are still rumpled, and I smooth my shirt, trying to regain some sense of composure. “I’m an idiot who can’t even sit down without risking her life.”
I move to leave, but Asher blocks my path, his hand gently catching my arm. “Hey,” he says softly, his tone entirely different now—gentle, almost kind. “We’re just trying to keep you safe.”
The tenderness in his voice makes my chest ache. He’s being nice, despite... everything, and it only makes the guilt twist tighter in my gut.
I shake my arm free, avoiding his eyes. “I know,” I mutter, barely above a whisper. My voice cracks slightly as I add, “But it’s not just my safety at stake, is it?”
I push past him, needing to escape, needing air. My heart pounds as I walk down the hallway, the sound of my steps swallowed up by the thick silence. I glance back once before I round the corner.
