Page 35 of Jealous Stepbrother
We end up in Central Park, summer sun turning the paths into a slow-moving river of joggers and dog walkers.
I don’t notice the guy until Asher stops dead in his tracks.
He’s mid-thirties and athletic, jogging past in the opposite direction. But his eyes dip to my ass for a second. Then again. And again.
Three seconds that doom him.
Shit.
Asher’s in his face before I can blink. “You like what you see?” His voice is low, lethal.
The guy stammers something about just running.
“Here’s the thing,” Asher says, stepping closer. “You look at her ass again, I’ll pluck your eyes out and make you eat them.”
“Hey, buddy?—”
He surges closer until they’re nose to nose. “I’m not your fucking buddy. But sure, feel free to try me if you’re feeling brave. Are you feeling brave, asshole?”
The man mutters an apology and scurries off, but it doesn’t cool Asher’s fury.
By the time he drags me away, my cheeks are wet with angry, humiliated tears.
Back at the penthouse, he doesn’t say a word.
Just scoops me up like I weigh nothing, carries me straight to the bathroom, and sets me under the spray of the walk-in shower.
The steam builds fast and so does the tension. His hands find my hips as his chest presses to my back. “Quick question, baby.”
I shake my head, overwhelmed and miserable. “Leave me alone, Asher.”
He asks anyway. “Are you about to flush my mood further down the toilet? Are you crying because of that fucker?”
I turn in his arms, heart hammering. “Would you care?”
“I care, princess. More than you know. More than is wise for either of us.”
More tears spill and his eyes narrow. I fool myself into thinking I spot concern and mild panic in his eyes. “What the hell’s going on, Scarlett?”
“I’m tired. You’re infuriating. And…and I’m on my period.”
His eyes darken, not with disgust, but something else entirely. Panic softens into understanding. “You poor baby.” He brushes a kiss at my temple. But when he pulls back a second later, his face hits neutral. “But it’s a good thing too,” he says after a beat, voice low and rough. “Means I get to focus on every other way to ruin you.”
Of course I take that to mean he’s going to be even meaner to me now that his access is cut off. But instead of leaving, Asher steps even closer. Wraps his inked arms tighter around me.
The heat of the shower doesn’t compare to the heat of him.
It’s blowing my mind a little that he’s right there, wet, fully clothed, water streaming down his hair and jaw, looking like he wants to be nowhere else.
When my short bout of sobbing subsides, he loosens his hold on me.
His touch is different this time. Slower. Gentler. More deliberate. As if he’s not just touching my skin but tending something underneath it.
His hands roam over my shoulders, my back, down my thighs, cleansing and comforting me.
Grounding me.
It’s almost worse than his usual teasing, because I can’t fight it.
