Again that barely there question mark at the end of his statement.
Or maybe I’m imagining it. I’m caught in his beauty. I love his wolf-like eyes, silver-blue with a darker rim, shaded by long lashes. And his lips... They’re perfect. I rise on my tiptoes to kiss them. He’s like gravity, pulling me close.
“You should stay away,” he says, softly,
but his mouth descends on mine, sealing my lips, marking them with fire. His tongue invades my mouth.
He tastes of lightning and dark spice. He draws me in, and I’m lost and falling, his hard arousal a counterpoint to the hot throb between my legs.
Closer. I want to feel him closer. My hand drops from his chest to his hip and snakes around, pressing into the small of his back.
Big mistake. Ash jerks back with a groan and slams his other hand on the wall, missing my face by an inch.
What the hell? “Ash, what—?”
“Leave,” he spits and steps back, away from me. “You were right to hate me, Auds. Stay away.”
I watch him go, my lips burning, my heart sinking. Like gravity, he lets me think I’m flying only to let me slam into the ground once again.
Chapter Eight
Asher
What the fuck is wrong with me? I pushed her into the wall, and then kissed her. Forcing myself on her. Again.
And then she pressed her hand into the bruises on my back, startling me, and I slammed my hand right into the wall. Scaring her.
Turning violent.
Turning into my dad.
Christ.
I bang the bathroom door shut behind me and brace my hands on the sink. What the hell is she doing here? Zane didn’t tell me she was coming or I’d have left the apartment.
Maybe that’s why he didn’t tell me. Fucker. He knows me too well.
And she has no right to be here, so sweet and beautiful, with her curves and pretty eyes, with that faint scar on her cheek that makes me ache with the need to hold her. Turning my mind to mush, making me want to forget about my resolutions and just be with her, bury myself in her so deep I become one with her.
Not having to face the real world.
Fantasies. I can’t afford them. I can’t hope in anything. Lesson learned.
Besides, she isn’t offering hope. Hasn’t offered anything. I just take and take.
I want you. She said that. Stammered it. I heard it. Right? I’m not sure anymore. She looked confused afterward. Maybe I imagined it. Or maybe I scared her and she panicked, blurting out things she didn’t mean. Things I wanted to hear so badly.
I bend my head, sucking in a shaky breath. Seeing her, being close to her is like drugs. Addictive. Dangerous.
A royally bad idea.
Two weeks ago it wouldn’t have been so bad. But now... Now I’ve made my decision and met people to help me see it through.
I’ve walked the streets again, went to joints I frequented months ago, during my previous escape from home sweet home. Joints where guys meet to fight for money, in dark basements, in rusty cages. Where bets are placed and dirty bills exchange hands for a taste of borrowed adrenaline, fear and spilled blood. For death.
They know me at The Bulldog, where I fought once to let out some of my rage. At least in the fight club I know when someone will attack me; I know the cage is the stage and what is expected of me.
This time I’m gonna fight for money. For a chance to live.