“I’m fine,” I grunt, trying again to pull away from his grip. Being this close to him is doing something to me. Again.

Like it was last week with our almost kiss, his hand close to my clit, his touch is quick to draw a reaction to me. And I know if I were wearing panties underneath this sad excuse of a robe, they’d be soaked already.

Asher shoots me a glare. “Would you stop acting like a child?”

My mouth falls open. How dare he practically barge into my apartment, demand me to explain my text, then call me a child?

“I told you, I’m fine,” I repeat, wanting him to let me go, yet at the same time, reconsidering.

Asher smirks, amusement sparking in his eyes. He keeps his gaze pinned to mine as he lifts my hand closer to his face. Achingly slowly and softly, he presses his lips to my pointer finger, giving it a gentle kiss. Then he moves to mymiddle finger, but this time, he parts his lips, devouring my finger. He sucks on the tip, sliding his tongue across my skin and pulling it in past the first knuckle. His cheeks hollow slightly, and his lips pop when he pulls my finger from his soft mouth. Looking at my now-crimson-tipped finger, he then flicks his gaze to mine. “Not as sweet as I remember.”

I’m practically dripping between my legs. My belly hums and tightens.

Dammit.

The spell Asher just cast on me quickly fades. Anger returns to my veins, and my heart jolts with white hot bitterness.

This time, when I yank my hand away, Asher doesn’t resist.

“Why are you here, Asher?”

“I want you to talk to me, Charleigh,” he says, his tone more relaxed than before, but I can still sense his frustration with me. “Why did you send me that text? A week without any word. Not very professional, now, is it?”

“And coming to my apartment, soaking wet, demanding answers is?”

I hate that I want to touch him. I want to feel his mouth on me again. But this time, I don’t want him on my fingers. I want more. Wanting Asher doesn’t just boil down to sex, though. There’s more to my feelings for him. I need to remember that. Emotion is thick in my throat, and my eyes fall to the silverware drawer.

“What is there to say?” My eyes drift back to his. “We made a deal, and you broke it.”

“I didn’t break our deal. We agreed for you to hire me while keeping your options with Cyrus open. I haven’t been doing anything but my job, which, if you’ve forgotten, is to find you a new storefront.”

My heart beats erratically in my chest.

Keep it together, Charleigh.

“Not that deal,” I squeeze out in a tight voice. “The other one.”

The hardness in Asher’s expression relaxes, his eyes softening slightly.

“I trusted you, Asher, when I have every reason not to.”

“Charleigh, I can’t make up for what I did in the past.”

“No, but it’s like I’ve said before… you aren’t the Asher I used to know. You’re only using me to get ahead, or maybe you’re enjoying this. Is that what that was the other day?” I point to the fireplace, then lift my hand up in front of me. “Or this? Was this a test I didn’t pass?”

His eyebrows draw together in confusion.

“You don’t make any sense, Asher. You push me away, then pull me back in. Then you ask about my dad as if?—"

“I didn’t know,” he cuts in. “I didn’t know about your dad.”

I feel the tears coming, but I don’t want them to spill. I promised myself I would never cry over my father. That would make me like my mother.

“I didn’t know about what happened with your family after?—”

“You left,” I interrupt right back.

A stark, hardened expression washes over his face. He presses his mouth into a thin line. He takes a step closer to me, bringing his body to my shoulder until his hardened chest presses against me.