Page 68 of In Case You Didn't Know
And he’s there.
Asher Fitzgerald. His chest is heaving, his eyes are wild with panic, and he has one hand clenched like he’s ready to throw a punch. He scans the room like he’s seconds away from launching into a fight.
Until his gaze lands on me.
Naked, wet, shampoo in my eyes. Curled in the corner like a drowned gremlin. The fury slips from his face, replaced by confusion, and something that might be horror.
Because while I’m trying to figure out how to breathe again, he’s staring at me like he walked into a crime scene and discovered the world’s weirdest boudoir shoot.
I open my mouth.
He opens his.
And instead of asking what the hell is going on, or why I screamed like someone was being murdered, he says the worst possible thing.
“Is that a spider?”
ASHER
I freeze as I stare at the scene before me. I swear I thought she was being attacked.
The second I heard her scream, all I could think about was that asshole I forced off the island and the fact my office had been broken into and ransacked, and now this. It was like something primal detonated in my chest. I slammed my fingers against the emergency override on the front door and rushed into the lighthouse, because she was fucking screaming. She needed me.
But I wasn’t expecting this.
Francie scrambles onto all fours, eyes wide, breath ragged, trying – and failing – to cover herself with her arms. Water glistens across every inch of her bare skin, her hair clinging to her shoulders, her lips parted in shock.
I know I should look away.
But I can’t.
I’m frozen. For the past week I’ve watched her through a camera. Heard her moan, seen her writhe, watched her fall apartwith my name on her lips. But none of it prepared me for this. For the woman I’ve been fantasizing about in real life, flushed and wet, droplets of water trailing down her collarbone and sliding into the crevasse between her perfect breasts.
“Oh my God, don’t look,” she screeches.
I don’t tell her it’s a bit too late for that. Instead I grab a towel, holding it out to her, and she snatches it from me like it’s a lifeline. Then something crawls across the tiles on the floor and she starts to scream again.
It took me a second to register what she’s screaming about. Then I realized it’s a spider. Casually strutting across the white tile like it owns the place. I reach down, scooping it into my hands.
“What are you doing?” she cries out. “Asher! No, don’t touch it.”
Ignoring her, I carry it to the front door, the soles of my shoes leaving wet marks as I walk. Opening the front door just wide enough, I release the little spider into the wild. It skitters off into the grass like it didn’t just commit war crimes against the woman I’m obsessed with.
When I return to the bathroom, she’s pressed into the corner, towel wrapped tight around her chest, her hair dripping down her back.
“I hate you,” she mutters.
“For saving the spider?” Maybe I should have killed it. But I couldn’t bring myself to.
She shakes her head. “For seeing me like this. This isnothow our first encounter was supposed to go.”
“It’s hardly our first encounter,” I point out. “I’ve known you for years.”
“That’s not what I mean.” Her face screws up and I find it stupidly endearing.
A smile pulls at my lips. “I’ve seen you come,” I point out. “Multiple times. And you’re embarrassed about me seeing you naked?”
Her jaw drops.
