His brows furrowed and the hands tightened. “I’ve been asking myself the same thing since the moment I got off my bike,” he responded, his eyes on mine. “You left, normally I’m not one to chase, to try to figure out what goes on in women’s heads with this kind of shit….” he paused, his face gentling and brushing my hair out of my face, “but this particular head, I want to know what went through it to make you leave. To make you run. From us,” he mused softly.
A lance of pain joined the agony I had surrendered to since my mom told me. This was different. I couldn’t let it in.
I frowned at him. “How do you know where I live?” I asked, dodging the beautiful words he’d uttered. “How did you know I was even here?” I added.
His eyes turned hard at my response. “Your roommate informed me, after treating me to an impressive array of curse words, I didn’t even know existed. That’s saying something, considering the men I call brothers,” he explained with a twinkle in his eyes.
“Bex,” I muttered. I’d told her little about what happened with Asher, though I hinted at the fact that I didn’t belong in that world. That I wasn’t strong enough. She had argued vehemently with this and had urged me to answer Asher’s calls. It seemed she was taking matters into her own hands by disclosing my location.
His face hardened once more. “You wanna let me in on the reason why I came back to an empty bed two days ago? Why I got no explanation? Why you’ve been ignoring me?” he asked in a brisk voice. “Shit move, flower. After what we had,” he accused.
Normally, the face of such fury, or the mere presence of a male, let alone one like this would turn me into a mute mess, I failed to flinch in the face of his anger. Not this time. I didn’t know whether it was the shock of the news my mom had dumped on me, or the fact I felt different with Asher. It wasn’t up for inspection right now. Or ever. He needed to leave.
“I thought I’d do us both a favor and do what you wanted me to do and leave,” I told him flatly. I’d been lying to myself the reasons why he’d been calling me, texting me, was because of the fact he didn’t like someone disobeying his alpha orders, not because he felt for me what I felt for him.
His already dark face turned stormy. He leaned in. “What are you talking about? Did anything about my actions that night, and the morning after, communicate the fact I wanted you to leave?” he asked slowly.
Somewhere deep down I realized the truth in his statement. He had wanted me to stay. Treated me like I was something more than I was. I was too easily swayed to think otherwise. My mind was too quick to think the worst.
“Yeah, flower. I know you’re innocent, not experienced, so I was trying to be patient. But I can’t. Not with you. You already fuckin’ consume me. One goddamned night and you’re under my skin,” he whispered, his anger melting away.
My stomach dropped and my heart flew at his words, and the tenderness of the voice. The look in his eyes. His wasn’t mincing his words, wasn’t playing games or pretending he didn’t feel this. It was real, honest. I couldn’t believe it. The fact this man, this beautiful, rugged man, wanted me. In a way, a man wants a woman. Me. Ordinary, boring me.
But then reality came back in. I couldn’t do this. Couldn’t be consumed with him like I already was when my mom needed me. All of me. I could not put something as frivolous as my heart before her.
Asher’s hand stroked my cheek. “This is more, babe. Special. You know it. I wouldn’t have taken your virginity if I hadn’t intended on treasuring that gift, treasuring the woman who gave it to me.”
I stared at him. I tried to blink away the tears, trying to imprint this moment into my memory. The moment of someone actually seeing me. Wanting me.
“No. It’s not,” I whispered, brokenly at first. Then I found my strength, stepped out of his arms and put what I hoped was a blank expression on my face. “This was nothing more than one night. Not for me,” I told him, my heart breaking.
Asher regarded me with cool eyes. I succeeded in hiding my flinch at the juxtaposition of that, and the tender look that had warmed my heart moments before.
“You’re screwin’ with me, right?” he clipped, hands crossing across his chest.
Don’t look at the way his biceps flex at that gesture. I told myself. It’ll ruin everything.
“I’m not,” I informed him, impressed at the lack of emotion in my voice. “I don’t want this,” I waved my hand between us. “It was one night. That’s it. Nothing more. So you need to leave,” I instructed in a cool voice while white hot pain sliced through my insides.