“Trust me, sweetheart. I’ll make sure it fucking is.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Victoria
Anticipation and fear have always walked hand in hand for me. When I get excited about something, I’ve been conditioned to also be afraid of it, because so often, the fantasy only leads to disappointment. I’m used to having the things I want slip away, even if I workso damn hardfor them.
Having something—someone—I want to work for me instead is a new sensation, and it’s all the more terrifying, because I’m all the more afraid of being disappointed, or God forbid, being a disappointment.
After I stuff myself withwaytoo many calories, Asher and I take a cab back to his apartment. With every mile we travel closer to his place, my breaths quicken, and startling dichotomies of exciting fantasies and horrifying failures flash through my mind.
What if he doesn’t like what he sees when I take off my dress? What if having such limited sexual experiences means I won’t satisfy him?What if I’m notenough, yet again?
By the time he’s letting me into his penthouse, which is a study of casual, quiet luxury, I’m close to hyperventilating. What am Idoinghere? What amI, specifically, doing with a man like Asher Lawrence? There’s no way we’re compatible. He’shim—hot, rich, and insanely successful—while I’m just me. Broke, perpetually exhausted, and a nobody.
“Make yourself at home,” Asher says. “I have a bottle of Muscat chilling in the fridge. Can I tempt you?”
My chest flutters with the thousand wings of gentle butterflies, but the flutter quickly devolves into a swarm of angry wasps as doubt begins to creep in. Mixing alcohol with nerves probably isn’t the smartest, but, “Absolutely.”
I follow him into the kitchen and lean a hip against the counter, watching as he goes through theinsanelysexy ritual of removing his jacket, his cufflinks, and rolling up his sleeves. It’s like watching porn, and the movements send a deep wave of want rolling through my core. I want himbadly, but I’m alsosoafraid of having him.
What if it ends up being toogood, and we don’t work out? I’d be able to recover from a crash and burn following a few dates. But a crash and burn following baring my body and soul to someone—
“You look like a deer in headlights.” He opens one of the mahogany cabinets, retrieves two wine glasses, and sets them on the marble island. Then, he pulls a bottle of wine out of the fridge, and sets about popping the cork.
“I’m, uh…” how do I put it in a rational, reasonable way? “Fucking terrified.”That doesn’t sound rational or reasonable, but it’s the raw, unvarnished truth.
Asher pauses and looks up at me. His confused gaze clashes with mine. “Why?”
“Because you’re you and I’m me,” I blurt.
His brows slam down. “What the fuck does that mean?”
I shrug. “I mean… I haven’t had sex inyears, and when I did, it was… underwhelming, to say the least. I’m an intern working her ass off to make something of herself.You’resomeone who’s slept his way through half of the population of supermodels, an insanely successful person, and someone who… is so far out of my league it’s unreal.” I glance down at my shoes—plain black flats, because I never quite learned to walk in heels. Eventhey’rea representation of how far removed I am from Asher’s usual fare.
“Victoria.”
I keep my gaze plastered on the floor.
“Victoria,look at me.”
I swallow thickly and slowly look up. Asher catches my gaze and holds it. “I disagree with you wholeheartedly, and evenifeverything you said were true,I don’t care.” He rounds the counter, his stride slow, graceful, and so fluid it’s almost predatory. I turn around to meet him face to face, and he stops in front of me. The counter is a cool kiss at my back, and he is all warmth and heat andpowerat my front.
Slowly, he plants one of his hands on the counter, then the other, caging me in. I turn into the mouse caughtin the cat’s trap in the span of a heartbeat, stuck in the trance of Asher’s stare.
“I’m a fuckup, sweetheart. I’ve spent the last two years stuck in stasis, not doing anything with my life or career and burying my woes in whatever warm, willing body happened to be around. Then,youcome in. You call me on my shit andforceme to be a better version of myself. You make me see what an idiot I’ve been. You make me want to… change. Evolve. And while I couldn’t stand it at first, I don’t think I can live without it now.”
I don’t think I can live without it now. The razor’s edge of fear and insecurity seeps out of me, replaced by the warmth of being desired. I don’t get to feel that very often, in any aspect of my life.
“Asher?”
“Hm?”
“I think I can skip the wine for now.”
A slow, knowing smile steals across his face. “Oh?”
“I’d very much appreciate it if you take me to your bedroom.”
