Page 45 of On One Condition

“Yes.”

Are right there.

“You lost the right to save me, to have anything to do with me, after the night you humiliated me. The night you let me be humil—”

“The night I what?”

“Nothing.” She grits the word out. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

I throw my hands out to my sides as she stands before me, a foot shorter and a ball of ire. The people on the patio are unabashedly paying attention to our fight, but I don’t give a fuck. I’ve thought about this woman all goddamn week, and I’m not walking away this time.

But humiliated her? What in the hell is she talking about?

There is a look in her eyes—a look years ago I would have been able to decipher but that I can’t right now. We’re strangers. Strangers. The thought is fucking killing me when all I want to do is . . .

“Why did you come here tonight, Ledger?” she mutters.

I have a million smart-ass comebacks on my tongue. Every single one will fuel that temper of hers, but for some reason, as I stare at her standing with the moonlight in her hair, I’m reminded of another time, another place, when she looked similar.

My lavender girl.

And I opt for honesty.

“Because when it comes to you, Asher, I can’t seem to stay away. I want you. Christ, I want you so fucking bad, and seeing that jerk kissing you just about did me—”

Suddenly her fists are in my shirt and her mouth is slanted over mine.

Thank. Fuck.

My hands are on her face, my lips are against hers, my tongue seeks hers, without any thought other than finally.

Her anger is bitter.

Her desire is sweet.

Both riot against my tongue as my head swims with the taste of Asher Wells.

She kisses me with a hunger and fire that match mine. There’s urgency and hesitancy. Desperation and confusion.

There’s just her.

Only. Her.

Fucking hell.

She pushes me away with as much determination as I want to keep kissing her. Her chest heaving. Her cheeks flushed. Her eyes wide. “How dare you?” she grits out from lips swollen from mine.

“Dare me?” What the hell? She initiated the kiss. “What are you talking about?” I need more. “I didn’t do a goddamn thing wrong.” My chuckle holds no amusement, just utter disbelief.

And the second the words are said, the moment my laugh falls flat, Asher grips my shirt tighter and yanks me down so that her mouth is on mine again.

There are no thoughts but her.

No questions except for how quickly can we be alone?

And time is of the fucking essence.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN