Page 150 of Twisted Truth

“I’m saying that I don’t know if I want to put a label on things, but I also don’t want to fight them anymore, either. Not touching you, not having you in my bed each night, is torture. Keeping my distance from you is torture. Pretending that we don’t feel this explosive chemistry between us is torture. And I’m certainly not one to torture myself. I’m a spoiled, entitled asshole, after all.”

“And what does this spoiled, entitled asshole want?”

“You.”

“How do we set these new terms? There is no contract in front of us, no lawyers, no board.”

“Thank god for that, or they’d get more than an eyeful in a minute.”

“That’s presumptuous of you,” I tease.

“I know when I’m about to close a deal. A lion always knows when their prey is within their grasp.”

“So now I’m prey?”

“The best kind.”

“And what happens after I’m caught?”

He runs his hands down my back and over my ass, giving me a little jerk toward him. My breasts crash into his ribs, and his hands tighten, squeezing my ass. He smirks down at me and smiles wickedly.

His mouth crashes against mine.

And the leash I’ve tethered myself with since the day I laid eyes on Asher snaps.

And I let go.

I let myself fall.

I kiss him back like I’ve been starving, and soon we’re a mess of tangled limbs and frantic lips, and I’m lost in the utter euphoria ofhim. His hands are in my hair. Then they’re on my dress, ripping the zipper down. He tears my dress from my shoulders and steps back. I stand in front of him in my lacy bra and panties and heels, with my dress pooled at my feet.

His eyes rake down my form, blazing with fire.

“Don’t you dare take off those heels,” he growls. “And don’t take off my ring.”

“I was under the impression you’d be doing the taking off of the things,” I say.

“Fucking right.”

He unbuttons his shirt, and I didn’t know it until right now, but that is my new favorite thing I didn’t know I was missing. Watching Asher unbutton his shirt while his sculpted abs peek through is my new favorite porn.

We stand in front of each other, but neither of us moves. That same thrum of energy settles into place, though neither of us speaks about it. There are no words at this point. What words could even articulate this, anyway? This thing between us somehow lies outside of all the words. It’s not something that’s merely extraordinary or surprising or consuming. Even those words don’t do it justice. And it’s not simply charged or electric or even an unstoppable gravity. It’s all of those and more.

It’s . . . everything.

Everything.

Asher steps back toward me, and my skin prickles in anticipation. He brushes his thumb across my lips. Goosebumps rise over my entire body, and I shiver under his simple touch.

“I know, Ella,” he says, his eyes boring into mine with understanding. “I know.”

Our lips meet again, but this time they move slowly.Exploring, worshiping. Then his lips are on my throat, and my fingers are threaded through his hair as his hands slide up my back, stopping at my bra. He unclasps it and slowly, gently, slides the straps down my shoulders, baring me to him.

He leans me back, arching my back slightly, as his mouth traces down my neck, kissing his way down to my collarbones, to the swell of my breast. He takes my breast in his mouth, biting and sucking on my nipple, and I let out a breathy moan. With the lightest touch, this man can light me on fire and burn me to the ground.

“I need you,” he says, his words whispering across my breast. “I’ve needed you since you stumbled into my meeting and disrupted my life.”

He pulls us back up, standing straight, and his hands are on my hips, beneath the elastic of my panties. He tugs them down, and they fall into a soft heap at my feet. His hand runs along my front to my core. He slips his middle finger along my clit and my hips buck of their own accord.