Page 11 of Be Your Forever
“Answer the question. Do you want food or not?”
“Yes, please.”
“Good girl.”Oh, my.My stomach erupts in flutters and…is that? No. It can’t be. There’s a dull ache between my thighs, something I haven’t felt in so long. And now I’m squirming in my chair, my desire choosing this moment to come out of hibernation.
And of course, my stomach chooses this moment to growl, so I ask him to throw in an order of chips and guac. I’ll probably regret it later, but right now my focus is on fueling my body. Despite how I feel about my image, I need to eat. Regret peeks around the corner, waiting for her chance to shine, but I refuse to let her in.
I quickly get dressed, run a brush through the tangled mess that is my hair, and splash my face with cold water. I have to look somewhat presentable. About thirty minutes later, the doorbell rings, and then it hits me.
Oh, shit. I’ll have to eat in front of him.
Old me wouldn’t give two fucks. Current me cares way too much. I don’t want him to feel disgusted by me. It doesn’t help when I scroll on social media and see people who look like me eating food. The pictures aren’t what bother me; it’s the comments saying something along the lines ofdamn, that girl needs to go on a diet. Then I click on someone who’s thin and appears “healthy” eating, and underneath the posts are endless congratulatory words and endless praise. The comments get to me more than they should, but it's hard when they’re a direct hit to your self-confidence.
The doorbell rings again followed by three consecutive knocks. It’s now or never, I guess. I head downstairs, mentally preparing myself for his reaction while taking grounding deep breaths.You can do this, Bri. It’s just Asher. No need to get all worked up.Despite what I tell myself, it’s easiersaid than done. I let out a slow deep breath before opening the door and facing my own inner demons.
Asher
There’s something about eating them out
Mystepsfalter,myonce wild beating heart drums a low, steady rhythm inside my chest, almost as if it knows something I don’t. My palms are slick and prickly, itching to reach out and touch her. My gaze lazily sweeps over her body, and it takes everything in me to keep my jaw from hitting the floor.
Bri’s in a pair of black leggings and a faded, dark gray Brookestone University hoodie. Her face is free of makeup and her wavy, chestnut hair is in a messy bun atop her head with a few stray curls framing her face. My fingers twitch with the urge to tangle my fingers in her wild mane. Can curly hair be a kink? Possibly. But for me, it’s not curly hair in general that does it for me. It’sherhair. The soft breeze whips her curls around her face, assaulting my nose with her vanilla scented shampoo. I reminisce on all the times I used to tug at her hair, annoying her being my main goal. But as I got older and began to understand what attraction meant, I knew it was much deeper than that. I was merely obsessed with the feel of her hair between my fingertips, the silky strands gliding through my fingers effortlessly.
I shake myself from the trip down memory lane, basking in the glory of the stunning woman before me. It’s such a simple look, but she’s anythingbut. I could get lost in her honey-colored eyes, but if I keep staring, she’s going to think I’m weird.Dial it back, man. Don’t scare her with your intensity.
“W-Why are you staring at me like that?” Bri asks while fidgeting with the hem of her hoodie.
She looks at her outfit as if she’d like to disappear inside it. I’m used to the fearless, confident Bri. The girl who’s never afraid to call you out on your shit. But the woman who stands before me is clearly lost. She’s like a deer in the forest; any sudden movement and she’ll bolt. My heart aches at seeing her struggle, my body buzzing with the incessant need to fix it.
But if I learned anything from my brother’s issues with addictions, she has to do this on her own. Regardless of all that, I’m going to do everything in my power to help her.
I clear my throat before answering. “Um nothing. I got the food. I’m starving, so lead the way.”
Bri cocks her head and raises a brow like she doesn’t believe me. My cheeks ache, a telltale sign of a smile as I catch a small glimpse of the real Brianna. Underneath all the rubble is the sparkling, sarcastic girl waiting to be pulled out. Bri turns and heads toward the kitchen, and I silently groan at the sight of her ass.Hot damn, her body. I only get a glimpse of her ass, but my imagination runs wild at how it would look bent over my desk as I—shit. Fuck. And now I’m so fucking hard that I need to adjust myself with my other hand.
When I enter the kitchen, Bri is on her tiptoes trying to grab something from the top shelf. Her hoodie rides up just enough to get a peek at her back dimples I just want to sink my teeth into.
Like the masochist I am, I place the takeout bag on the table and walk up behind her to help her grab the plates. Bri gets spooked, her back slamming against my front. My hands grip her hips to steady her, and I have to breathe through my nose to steady the fire burning inside me. This has the opposite effect on me when I get a strong hit of her vanilla-cinnamon scent. It’s like stepping into a Cinnabon store; the sweet, savory aroma assaults my nose and my cock hardens, pressing against the fly of my jeans.
“Fuck,” the curse slips out. Bri glances over her shoulder, and I’m absolutely gutted at the look of hurt and shame swirling behind her beautiful eyes. Before I can open my mouth, she’s wiggling out of my arms, looking like she wants to shrink within herself. Before she can get too far away, I reach out to grab her wrist.
“Hey, what happened? Did I do something wrong?” I’m genuinely confused. Is she upset that I touched her? Did she feel my hard on, and she’s uncomfortable?
“I’m sorry.” Bri looks everywhere but my eyes. I furrow my brows and cock my head to the side, wracking my brain as to why she’s apologizing.
“Why are you sorry?”
“Uh—” She still won’t meet my gaze, so I grab her chin and force her eyes to meet mine.
“I want you to look me in the eyes when you tell me why you’re apologizing.” I wait for her eyes to meet mine. She looks so small, and it breaks my heart.
“I’m not who I used to be.”
Her body squirms beneath my touch, itching to do whatever it takes to get out of this conversation.
“Who you used to be?” I ask, clarifying.
“I…Well, look at me, Asher.” Bri gestures to her body, which leaves me even more puzzled.
