Page 26 of Saving the Rockstar

We jerked apart, panting. Staring at each other with wild eyes, kiss-swollen mouths.

Reality crashed in, swift and merciless.What the fuck was I doing?He was my client, for Christ's sake. This was a line I couldn't uncross, a boundary I couldn't come back from.

But Asher was already moving, scrambling out of the bed like it was on fire. He looked wrecked, tousled in a way that made my fingers itch to reach for him again.

"Asher, wait-"

But he was already bolting out the room, the door snicking shut behind him with a terrible finality.

I slumped back against the pillows, staring blindly at the ceiling. My lips tingled, bruised and tender, a visceral reminder of what had just happened. What I'd just done.

Kissed my client. KissedAsher. The man I was supposed to be protecting, not lusting after.

I'd crossed a line. Overstepped my boundaries in the most egregious way possible. And now, Asher could barely look at me. Couldn't get away from me fast enough.

The thought of hurting him, of damaging the fragile trust between us made me feel sick. Made the memory of our kiss, seared into my skin like a brand, feel tainted. Dirtied by my own selfishness and lack of control.

I couldn't do this. Couldn't be this, for Asher. He needed me to be strong, steadfast. A port in the storm of his chaotic life. Not some confused asshole who couldn't keep it in his pants.

I rolled over, burying my face in the pillow Asher had vacated. It still smelled like him - that warm, spicy scent that made me ache in ways I didn't have words for.

Chapter 9: Asher

The door closed behind me with a soft click, but it might as well have been a gunshot for how it echoed in my ears. I leaned back against the solid wood, my heart rabbiting in my chest, my lips still tingling with the ghost of Jared's kiss.

God, that kiss. It had been everything I'd ever wanted, ever dared to hope for in the deepest, most secret parts of myself. The heat of Jared's mouth, the hungry press of his body against mine. The way he'd looked at me, like I was something precious, something to be cherished.

But even as I savored the memory, the sweetness of it turned to ashes on my tongue. Because beneath the euphoria, beneath the disbelieving joy, the doubt crept in.

“He doesn't really want you”, whispered the voice in my head that sounded suspiciously like Carter. “He's just curious, experimenting. And who could blame him? You're convenient. Available. But you're not worthy of love, Asher. You're too damaged, too broken. He'll see that soon enough, and then he'll leave. Just like everyone else.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting against the sting of tears. I knew that voice, knew its cruelty intimately. It had been my constant companion for years, the soundtrack to every failure, every heartbreak.

With Jared, it was different. The way he looked at me, the way he kissed me. But the old fears still lingered. The nagging doubt that whispered I was misreading things, projecting my own desperate longing onto Jared's kindness. That he couldn't possibly want me, not really. Not when he knew how broken I was, how tainted.

A choked laugh bubbled out of me, edged with hysteria. God, I was a mess. I couldn't face Jared. Couldn't bear to see the regret, the pity in his eyes. The gentle rejection I knew was coming, the inevitable slow drift back to friendly professionalism.

I needed my best friend. I needed Dylan.

Scrubbing a hand over my face, I padded down the silent hallway to the next door over. I knocked softly, mindful of the late hour.

"Dylan," I called, leaning close to the door. "It's me, open up."

A muffled groan filtered through the wood, followed by the telltale thump of a body rolling out of bed. A moment later, the door cracked open, revealing Dylan's sleep-rumpled face.

"Ash?" He squinted at me, his hair sticking up in wild tufts. "What's going on? It’s late."

I shouldered past him into the room, my nerves jangling. "I kissed Jared."

That woke him up. His eyes went wide, his jaw dropping open. "Youwhat?"

The whole sordid story came tumbling out of me in a rush. By the end of it, Dylan was gaping at me, his expression caught between glee and disbelief.

"So, let me get this straight. You finally lock lips with the hunky bodyguard of your dreams, and your first instinct is to run away and hide in my room? I'm flattered, but also deeply concerned for your romantic prospects."

I groaned, burying my face in a pillow. "I'm a mess. I don't know how to do this whole healthy relationship thing."

Dylan giggled. "Well, step one is probably not bolting like a startled gazelle every time someone shows genuine affection for you."

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