Page 22 of In Case You Didn't Know
“I said wait,” he says, turning around. I try to rearrange my expression into something that doesn’t look like a salivating dog in heat. But now he’s showing me the front of his torso. My eyes can’t decide where to look first – his rippled abs, or the deep V where his hips disappear into his pants.
“Francie?” he murmurs, his gaze locking with mine. For a moment neither of us says a word. There’s a weird buzzing in the room, or maybe it’s in my ears. All I know is I’ve forgotten how to breathe.
He looks at my mouth then back at my eyes again. And I’m stupidly mesmerized. He’s taken his contacts out and put glasses on and damn it, he’s just hit my Achilles’ heel. My breath catches in my throat.
Hot guys in glasses are my thing. Especially when the hot guy is half naked and staring at me like I’m his favorite kind of food.
“I came to talk to you,” I manage to get out. My skin feels like it’s combusting. “About the thing.”
“The thing?” He grabs the t-shirt on his bed and pulls it on. There are a pair of sweat pants next to it. I’m guessing he won’t be putting those on in front of me.
“Yeah.” I nod, trying to think but my brain is way too scrambled. “The thing we did.”
“What did we do?” He tips his head to the side, like he’s trying to scrutinize me. “Christ, I can’t talk to you when you’re dressed like that.”
I look down at my golden dress. “Want me to take it off?”
“Absolutely not.” He looks almost alarmed at my suggestion. “That would be completely inappropriate. You’re just a kid, Francie.”
I completely balk at that. “I’m twenty-six,” I point out, because this is stupid. “You’re only ten years older than me.”
“And I knew you when you were twelve and I was twenty-two.”
“Then that’s your problem,” I point out. “Because that was half a lifetime ago. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but somewhere in the past fourteen years I’ve grown up.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve noticed,” he mutters.
“Is that why you were so angry with me for being at that club?” I ask him. “Because you think I’m too young?”
His jaw tightens. “I was angry because you clearly have no concept of how to be safe.”
“I know how to be safe. I use birth control, Asher.” God, he’s annoying. I was feeling so happy earlier. And now he’s brought my mood down in a matter of moments.
He pinches his nose, like his brain is hurting. Serves him right for having such a big one. “I didn’t mean safe like that, though thanks for puttingthatimage in my brain. I meant safe as in being aware of your own vulnerabilities. Taking care of your security.” His eyes are narrow as they meet mine. I have no idea what I’ve done to make him this furious again, but I’m so tired of arguing with him.
“Is this a commercial for your business?” I ask him. “Are you trying to sell me a security package?”
“No,” he rasps, like he’s on his last nerve. “I’m trying to tell you to stop putting yourself in situations where you can be taken advantage of. Do you know why I was at the club?”
“To have sex?” I say, trying not to wrinkle my nose, because the image of him climbing onto a bed like the one in the room he’d found me in, and having women throw themselves at him isn’t exactly welcome in my already-too-full brain. But it’s also stupidly turning me on. Would he look mean, like he does now, his mouth all twisted and hard as they lean over him?
Ugh, no, I need to stop thinking about this, before I combust.
“You think I was there to fuck somebody?” he murmurs. And that stupid image comes into my head again.
“Isn’t that why people usually go to sex clubs?” I ask him. “And it’s okay, I haven’t told anybody if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Is that why you went to a sex club?” His voice is so low I have to lean forward to hear him. His eyes are trained on mine, like he’s hanging on for my answer.
I pull my lip between my teeth. I could tell him the truth. I was going to, I really was. The truth is always so much easier than a lie, after all. I could smooth all of this out by telling him I’m a writer and that I was there to research, but with the way he’s acting he doesn’t deserve my truth.
He’s judging me. And that’s really pissing me off. As is the way my body is reacting to him.
“That’s none of your business,” I tell him. “But the fact that you’re judging me, when you were there too? It’s hypocritical, and it makes me feel like you don’t think I have the right to make my own choices.”
“I was there updating their damn security systems.”
The breath wooshes out of me. “What?”
