His fingers skim up my jaw, tilting my chin up. His thumb drags over my bottom lip, and my body shakes with need. Then, he grins. “Not tonight, kitten.”
For a second, I think he’s bluffing. That he’ll give in. That he wants this as much as I do. His breath is warm against my skin, his fingers press just a little deeper before pulling away, and leaving me poised for something—anything.
The amusement in his voice kills me. I want to scream.I want to drown him in this tub. But more than anything, I want him to stay.
And then, just like that, he stands, adjusting his tie, completely unaffected.
“You—” My voice is hoarse, frustrated.
“You wanted to test me.” His smirk is infuriating. "Hope you liked the results."
Then, without another word, he walks away. At first, I don’t move, waiting, and hoping—some ridiculous part of me is convinced he’ll come back, that he’ll change his mind. But the door stays shut. The realization slams into me, cold and sharp. I’m aching, furious, and shattered in the middle of his tub. The frustration doesn’t hit all at once. At first, I just stare after him, lips parted, and mind grasping at the edges of what just happened. Then, slowly, the heat in my veins turns to a slow burn of resentment, winding tighter and tighter until I feel like I might explode.
It’s always his game, and his rules—he pulls the strings, and I just let him.
The frustration from last night clings to me, a slow-burning rage curling beneath my skin. I roll over in bed, my muscles tense, while my mind replays the way Asher looked at me before walking away. The teasing, the smirks, and the way he had me trembling with need—only to leave me aching and alone.Fucking bastard.
I don’t even think before I storm out of my room, ready to fight. I want to hurl something at him, force a reaction, and make him admit that he felt it too, that he wanted me just as much as I wanted him.
Then I see him—and the words die in my throat.
Asher is standing in the kitchen, his back to me, sipping coffee like he doesn’t have a care in the world. But it’s not the casual act that stops me. It’s the way he looks.
No suit. No perfectly pressed shirt. No tie to loosen while he taunts me. Instead, he’s in a simple tee shirt and gray sweats, the soft fabric clinging to his frame in a way that makes my stomach tighten. His tattoos—ones I’d only glimpsed before—are on full display, anddark ink stretches over sculpted muscle. The casualness of it, and the undeniable raw sex appeal, hits me like a wrecking ball.
I hate that it affects me.
I hate that I want him more like this.
As if sensing my presence, he turns, a slow smirk curling on his lips as he takes me in. "Morning, Kitten."
His voice is lazy, amused—like he already knows I’m still fuming, and still desperate to claw at him for leaving me hanging last night.And that smug confidence?It makes me want to wipe that look right off his face.
“Fuck you,” I snap.
His grin widens. "That what you came out here for?"
The way he says it, so damn casual, like he’s not the reason I barely slept, makes my blood boil. I take a step forward, with my fists clenching at my sides, fully intending to shove him, to say something cruel—
But Asher moves first.
He’s on me in an instant, backing me into the counter, and placing his body flush against mine. Heat explodes through me, my anger tangling with something just as dangerous, and just as consuming. And when his lips brush against my ear, voice low and wicked, and I know I’ve already lost this fight.
Chapter 34
She Wanted a War. I Gave Her One
Asher
She exhales sharply, nostrils flaring as she lifts her chin, while her eyes burn with challenge. "Oh, so you think whispering in my ear is enough to make me forget how you left me last night?" The words are edged with defiance, but there’s something else—something unsteady—lurking beneath the surface.
I catch it. The way her breath hitches, the way her hands tremble just slightly before she clenches them into fists at her sides. She wants to fight, but she wants something else even more.
My body responds before my mind does, with heat tightening low in my stomach, and every muscle tensed and ready. Her gaze flickers downward, catching the evidence of just how badly I want her, and she stumbles back a step.
Not a chance. I’ve waited months for this—seeing her raw, hungry, and unguarded. And I won’t let her run from it now.
"Still mad at me, Kitten?" My voice is a whisper of silk and sin, teasing, and daring her to make the next move.
