My cheeks redden, the heat shocking me from staring at his lips long enough to glare at him.
He chuckles, lifting a hand to skim my cheek. "You're always blushing."
I step out of his reach, "cause it's not me, I don't do this shit." I whisper, hand flicking between us. "I don't...you-"
His brows furrow and he moves closer. "That's not a bad thing."
"Wow, cool, look at the blushing virgin."
His brows rise and anger seems to simmer at the edge of his words, "you're not though, are you?"
I glare back and his face smooths. "I didn't mean it like that, I'm sorry." He breathes out a sigh, "let's just forget that, tell me something you want to focus on?"
My eyes drift back to his lips unbidden and my stomach tightens.
"Do you want me to kiss you?" He sighs, the words tight.
I startle and glance up, shaking myself out of my thoughts and feeling embarrassment wash over me like a tsunami.
I'm staring at him like a creep and here he is just trying to have a fucking conversation. Get a hold of yourself Ivy.
I deflate. "You don't have to treat me like some desperate fangirl."
I see his eyes flash and then I see nothing, my eyes shut from the shock of feeling Asher's lips on mine, his hand moving to the back of my neck to keep me there and my back hitting the closet wall.
The kiss is soft, short and sweet and then he's pulling back.
"I don't think you're desperate." He says against my lips, skimming them with every word.
I can't say anything back, my heart choking me and stopping me from saying anything.
I look into Asher's eyes, seeing my own reflection in them before he's murmuring again.
"Do you want to practice kissing?"
I blush, like an idiot. I can feel his lips as they stretch into a grin. "Well?"
I nod.
His lips smooth down onto mine, my heart beating harshly into my chest.
Fuck. Fuck. I cannot have a crush on Asher. I will not. I am stronger than this.
I force my mind to think of this like an experiment, an exercise and not like I'm kissing one of the hottest guys at my school.
A hand slams against the closet door, shocking me away from my thoughts and Asher's lips, head banging into the wall and Asher smooths a hand over the affected area and swears viciously under his breath.
"Times up." Harlow yells, and giggles and hoots erupt outside. "Time to leave, pants on or off." She laughs at her little joke and mortifications hits me.
Asher steps back, his eyes looking at me intently and I avoid them with every fibre of my being before scooting past him to reach for the door and exit, leaving the room and the eyes and whispers behind me until I'm walking back to my car with a pounding heart and headache.
There was no way that was seven minutes.
Chapter 9
Tip nine; Fast doesn't mean good.
Firm, steady pressure is what most people respond to. Too light feels distracting.
