I guess that’s his way of saying that I’m trapped here.
So, I start to freak out.
“This is fine,” I say as I pace the floor. “This is fine. You’re not in danger, just a predicament.” I know my words are true and not just a therapy-learned self-soothing tactic because I have known this man for a very long time. While he’s a bit infuriating from time to time (right now officially earning the top spot of those times), he would never hurt me.
Still, it doesn’t change the fact that I am helpless.
In a villa.
In Costa Rica.
The problem is, I should be here with Daniel right now. He should be my husband right now. Instead, I am with my brother’s friend.
As I continue to pace, I step on my dress, nearly face-planting on the slick floor. Regardless of whether I should be here right now, I can’t wear this dress any longer.
After some struggle and breaking a decent sweat, I am able to get the zipper down. I shimmy out of the dress and catch my reflection in the full length mirror on the wall. My lingerie is lacy, blue, and see through. I’ve never worn lingerie in my life, but from what I know from reading romance novels, that’s what you’re supposed to wear on your wedding night.
I don’t actually know these things from experience because I’ve never had that experience.
AKA…I’m a virgin.
I’m also 25.
I’ve been saving myself for marriage.
And my wedding night was supposed to be tonight. Yet here I am at a villa in the middle of nowhere with my childhood nemesis wearing lingerie that is a waste and a shame because Ilookgood. And he’s just in the bathroom taking a shower like all of this is perfectly okay.
As I slip out of the lingerie and into regular panties and a bra, I find myself getting more and more irritated by it all. Asher has always been the guy that all the girls notice. His Chalamet jawline, Jude Law smirk, and Sebastian Stan aura make him hard to miss. What they don’t know is that under all that brooding aloofness and washboard abs, he’s sardonic and opinionated and stubborn.
Here I sit, angry as hell, rightfully so. All he did was stand there; no explanation, no motive, no reasoning at all. He just stood there with his hands shoved in his pockets, jingling the car keys.
I stop.
The car keys…
If I can get the keys from his pants pocket, I can take the car and go find Daniel!
I pad quietly over to the bathroom door, which conveniently is cracked. Steam swirls out, tickling my nose. I try not to breathe. If I am going to manage this, I can’t make a sound. Holding my breath, I open the door the rest of the way and scream.
Asher is standing with his back to me, completely naked.
He jumps and whips around to face me.
As he turns, he slips, sliding straight into me.
I scream again as we both crash to the floor.
Me on my back.
And him, naked, on top of me.
Chapter 3
Asher
Ishould have known by now that this woman would be the death of me.
Harper is still shrieking, pressing against my chest as she tries to worm her way out from underneath me. From the way she’s acting, you’d think I was a giant spider, and she’s suffering from arachnophobia. I’m half surprised she’s not screaming, “Get it off me!”
