Page 77 of In Case You Didn't Know
Asher doesn’t speak. He just holds me, one hand running along my spine, the other curled possessively around me.
The only sound in the room is our shared breath. And the steady thump of our hearts.
He presses a kiss to my temple. It’s so sweet it makes my breath catch.
“That,” he murmurs against my skin, “was worth every second I’ve waited for you.”
And somehow, I know he’s not only talking about tonight.
twenty-two
ASHER
Francie falls asleep about two minutes after I make her come, muttering about needing to feel me inside of her. Her hand is resting on my chest, her cheek pressed against my shoulder like I’m her favorite pillow. Her hair is tickling my skin but I don’t give a shit.
She looks peaceful. Spent. Beautiful.
I brush a strand of hair off her face, letting my fingers linger at her temple. Her skin is warm, flushed from the orgasm. The soft flutter of her breath is rhythmic against my ribs, like the aftershock of a storm.
I should leave. I should never have come.
Fuck, I should never have watched her come every night for a week on the cameras for me. And I absolutely should never have done this.
And yet I can’t bring myself to feel sorry about it.
She lets out a sigh against my skin, and it makes my cock swell. Her skin is still coated with me. The perfect mix of innocence and dirtiness does things to me that nobody else can.
I stare up at the ceiling, feeling the darkness coming. It always does, in the end. Memories press against my brain like an unhealed wound.
The stifling dark. The splintered wood. My father’s screams echoing off the walls as I cowered inside that fucking closet. The way they merged with my own.
I swore I’d never let anybody hurt me again. Yet right now I feel more fucking vulnerable than that kid ever did, letting this woman burrow under my skin like she belongs there.
Like she couldn’t break me apart if she wanted to.
I pull back from the edge of those memories, grounding myself in the softness of Francie’s breath.
The sound of my phone buzzing in the pocket of my pants on the floor is a welcome relief from the dark thoughts in my head. I lean over carefully, grabbing it without disturbing her.
The screen is lit up with Hudson’s name.
Shit.
I don’t answer. Even I can’t pull off an easy conversation with my brother while in bed with my sister’s best friend. And I’m not in the mood for a Fitzgerald family interrogation.
A moment later, a message pops up.
Why are you back on Liberty? And why are you at the lighthouse? – Hudson
Of course he’s tracking me. We all do it. From the first time we got smart phones we could follow each other. We protect each other. Take care of our own.
But now it feels like an intrusion.
I thumb out a quick reply.
Was heading back to work on the security system. Francie hurt her head. I’m keeping an eye on her in case of a concussion. – Asher
It’s not even a lie. Not really.
