Page 36 of From Asher, With Love

“No, you won’t.” She begins shaking her head. “Absolutely not. I’ll just take my shoes off.” She reaches down, ready to remove one of her heels.

“That’s disgusting, Charleigh. You’ll catch tetanus or some shit like that.”

She shrugs, bending down again to remove her heel. “I’ll survive. Plus, if I end up catching something or hurting myself, you can carry me to the hospital.”

I roll my eyes. She’s nearly pulled off her shoe when I reach down and wrap my arms around her legs. She yelps as I lift her up and bend her over my shoulder. Her warmth immediately meets my chest and shoulder, radiating down the length of my body.

“Asher! What the hell?”

“Your feet hurt, and there’s no way in hell I’m letting you walk barefoot.”

“Put me down.” She swats at my back, her armsflailing against my muscles as she kicks her legs out, batting them back and forth. Her feet hit my ribs repeatedly.

“Nope.” I begin walking down the stairs, careful as I take each step. The last thing I need is to trip and fall, dropping Charleigh along the way. I have one arm wrapped around the back of her thighs while my other hand rests on the small of her spine.

“You’re such an asshole,” Charleigh mutters through gritted teeth.

“I never claimed not to be.” Her entire body is warm against my shoulder, and I find myself grinding my jaw once again, only this time it isn’t because she’s irritated me. This time it’s because she’s turned me on. My entire body heats with Charleigh against me.

I bite down on the tip of my tongue fighting the urge to spank her round ass next to my face for both being late and making me walk down this obscene number of stairs. My cock twitches at the thought.

I’ve already crossed the line, and I know it. We could have easily taken the elevator, but with each level we pass, I choose not to. It’s a decision I’m aware of with every level we descend. I tell myself I’m carrying her because listening to her complain for another twelve flights would drive me insane. It’s better to believe the lies than to accept the truth. She really isn’t complaining that much. I should have let her walk barefoot. I should have let her go. But the old Asher I was when I was with Charleigh is starting to peek through the cracks in the walls I’ve built around myself. I hate to admit it, but her company is growing on me.

The silence between us swells for another few flights. As much as I’m trying to concentrate on the next step, all I can think about is my arm around Charleigh’s thick thighs. My fingers pressed into the small of her back. I swallow the tensiongrowing in my throat at the reminder of how she tastes. I squeeze her thigh, forcing myself to get my mind back on track, but the audible heavy breath sinking from Charleigh’s body is too loud to ignore. My touch is doing something to her. Lighting her up inside, the same as it is me.

“So,” Charleigh says, lifting her head. She grips the back of my jacket and shirt, pulling herself up far enough to look at the wall behind me. Her fists clutching the fabric of my shirt loosens it from beneath my belt. “Tell me your favorite thing you loved about L.A. Besides the food.”

I laugh, wrapping my arms tighter around her thighs. I brush off the urge to slide my hand under the fabric of her skirt and sink my fingers into her just to see how wet she is. “My dad taught me how to surf. I was terrified my first time, but once I got the hang of it, I couldn’t stop. Until I moved into the dorm at UCLA freshman year, it was the first thing I’d do every day.”

I can tell my indulgence in sharing one of the few details about my father has stunned her. She holds her breath, her body growing heavy against mine. Her clenched fists loosen on my jacket, but she still holds on. “Oh, I, um… so, it worked out with your dad, then?”

We’ve reached the second floor now. Only one more flight to go until we make it to the lobby. I could easily release Charleigh and let her walk the last few steps, but I don’t. I keep my arms wrapped around her, and her body pressed to mine.

I clear my throat and take the first step of the last flight. “It did.”

Several seconds of silence.

“It makes me happy to know one of your parents turned out to be a good person.” Her words come out low and soft.

I inhale a deep breath, unsure how to feel. Yes, my father turned out to be a decent human being, but in my mind, it was too little too late. The damage had already been done. Hecouldn’t erase the kind of woman my mother had turned out to be, and he certainly couldn’t erase what had happened to her, causing me to leave Connecticut and live with him. He also couldn’t change the fact that I had left Charleigh, removing her from every aspect of my life. Moving out there on a whim in the hopes my mother’s stories about him were lies was a major risk.

“Yeah.” It’s the single word I can think to use in response to Charleigh. Talking about my father is heavy, if only because he’s a subject that reminds me of why I left her. Speaking of my father could also lead to a conversation about my mother and the fire that destroyed her and nearly destroyed Charleigh—topics I don’t want to revisit. This time I shift the focus of the conversation to her.

“What about you? Was NYU everything you hoped it would be?” My thumb presses into her thigh. The feeling it gives me causes my heart to hammer in my chest.

“It was good. After my freshman year, I got a job at a floral shop down the street from campus. I spent most of my free time there, learning everything I could about running a floral business. If I wasn’t in class, I was there. Otherwise, school was great.”

Once I’ve made it to the first floor, I put Charleigh down, unraveling my arm from around her thighs. When she lands on her feet, she straightens her back and brushes her disheveled hair away from her face, smoothing it with her fingertips. She straightens her skirt and readjusts her purse on her arm, but all I can do is stare at her lips and ignore the heat in my lower belly.

“Thanks,” she mutters, her eyes meeting mine.

“You’re welcome.”

We stand in the stairwell, and it’s not until I pull my phone out of my pocket do I realize how long it has taken us to walk down the stairs. “Thirty minutes?” I say, raising my voice. “It took us thirty minutes to use the stairs instead of the elevator.”

She shrugs, wincing again, the same way she did before I carried her. “Um, yeah. Sorry. I didn’t think it would take that long.”

“What do you mean you didn’t think it would take this long?” I gesture toward the stairs. “Haven’t you walked these before?”

---