Leaning in closer, I watch as her pink lips part expectantly. My gaze trails slowly over her face to her neck, where I see her pulse thrumming, blood rushing to paint her pretty cheeks pink. I allow myself a single moment to imagine what it’d feel like to let my teeth skate over her there, nipping and sucking at the delicate skin.
“I knew you liked to tell women what to do,” she whispers.
I can’t help it, I smirk at her.
“You have no idea, Livi girl. Now fucking behave or I’ll be spanking that arse before I even get you home.”
CHAPTER 9
Olivia
My head is swirling in the passenger seat of Asher’s pickup truck after he yanked me away from that cowboy, then threatened to spank me.
He’s right about me normally not drinking this much. But over the last few weeks, it’s been either drink or cry whenever I feel like the proverbial rug has been pulled out from under me. And I’m damn sick of crying.
I lean my head against the seat, knowing I can’t run from this reality any longer. I have to channel my inner Lynn Sutton and find the positive in these situations. The people I have in my life are one in a million and Iwillhave my house back thanks in part to this pissed-off bartender driving me home.
I close my eyes, listening to Ty Myers sing “Ends of the Earth” as I breathe in the fresh clean scent of Asher’s truck. The rustic, sultry sound of this song doesn’t deter me from imagining just what that spanking would feel like, and how the thought sends a thrill through my body. Hell, I need to get it together. I’m almost thirty, and the time to play around with the town bad boy and live like I’m in college having one-nightstands is over.
Asher clears his throat and turns up the song as he focuses on the road, and he leans back in his seat. The hum of the road seems to relax him as he drives, and I wonder just what is going on inside that head of his.
“You like this song?” I ask, turning my body toward his, tugging at my seatbelt to make some space.
“Yes,” he answers.
“But it’s about a man who’s so in love with a woman he can’t stand to be away from her,” I push. “How he’d follow her to the ends of the earth.”
His strong features flex. “And?”
“And you don’t believe in love.”
“You don’t have to believe in love to appreciate the way others believe in it.” Asher side-eyes me. “And you’re welcome to get to know me better, Liv, when you’re more … clear-headed.”
His voice has an icy edge and he keeps his eyes focused on the road. But it hits me all the same as I watch him push his hair off his forehead with one large, inked hand. Asher Reed is gorgeous—a dripping with masculinity, rugged competence, and surety kind of gorgeous. My eyes drift over his angled cheekbones, the perfectly imperfect black hair, and his beard, thick but trimmed close over his wide jaw. It makes me imagine what his face would feel like drifting slowly over my stomach, then up between the valley of my breasts. The scruff counteracting his soft, full lips as they skate across my flesh. His arm is lined with veins as he grips the wheel tight, and from this position I get a closer look at the ink that spans his tanned skin. There’s a crown with roses woven throughout the sleeve design, a clock stuck on one-twenty-five, numbers and writing in a language I don’t know. I look away when my core starts to heat just from studying him.
“For the record, it’s easier for me to ask about you with a few drinks under my … dress?” I say with a grin. “You’re notalways approachable.”
Asher turns his dark eyes on mine for a split second. “That’syourassumption of me.”
I snort. “That’severyone’sassumption of you.”
“Aye, butyoujudged me the moment you met me.”
I hum in admission.
“And what did you assume?” he asks, tapping his heavy thumb on the wheel.
“I assumed you were the same as the last man I knew like you,” I blurt out.
“Assumptive, discriminatory bullshit? Surprising for you, Livi.”
Livi?That’s the second time he’s called me that.
“Not discriminatory. Just similar. He was big like you. Well, not quite as big. He wasn’t bearlike. Maybe more of a baby bear …”What the hell am I saying?“Lots of tattoos, always wearing a semi-scowl.” I take a deep breath. “He was my boyfriend. We met the summer before college. WKU.”
Normally, the warning voice in my head would appear and tell me to shut the fuck up, but she’s sleeping off her sangria soIkeep talking.
“Nathan Stokes. Nate. He was on the wrestling team, ran with a rough crowd, partied a lot.” I watch Asher’s gaze intensify on the road ahead as he grips the wheel tighter. “He was older than me, drove an Indian motorcycle, a Scout.”
