Page 21 of The Penalty Shot (Totally Pucked 5)

“MJ!” Grabbing the rag from the bar, I toss it in her direction.

She catches it easily and sticks out her tongue. “Thank me later, babe.”

In my hand, my phone vibrates. A response from Asher.

Asher: No louder than you moan. ;)

Oh God. My cheeks heat in embarrassment. He’s teasing me about the entire situation with Jarett, but when I think about moaning with Asher…

This is exactly why it’s a bad idea; I’m already having thoughts I shouldn’t.

Because there is a part of me wishes that I could have that with Asher.

The thought surprises me, but I can’t help it. He’s attractive, and he makes me feel safe. For the first time, I don’t feel ashamed for wanting someone…just surprised. Surprised that I’m even interested in someone. It’s been so long…since I even thought about a man in a non-platonic way but there’s just something about him. Something that makes my heart race, and my stomach to dip.

It’s after midnight when I’m finally walking up to the door of my apartment, key in hand. I’m exhausted and can’t wait to crawl in bed and sleep for at least eight hours.

Before I open my door, I glance at Asher’s for a moment, and before I can change my mind, I’m knocking.

I know it’s late, but I want to say what I have to say before I chicken out. A minute passes and Asher doesn’t come to the door, so I figure he’s asleep and start to walk back to my door. Just as I’m about to slip inside, I hear his door open, and his deep voice calling my name.

“Killer.”

Whipping around, what I see has my mouth going dry and suddenly my thoughts are a jumbled mess. I’m immediately flustered at the sight of him.

Asher’s standing in front of me, wearing nothing but a white towel knotted around his waist. Water droplets trickle down his face from his hair, and continue down the expanse of his chest to his stomach that has been carved by God himself.

The energy he exudes…the raw masculinity…it’s intoxicating. For a moment, I want to run my finger down those droplets, and my cheeks immediately heat at the dirty thought.

“Hi, uh, sorry it’s so late, I just…I was at work tonight and thinking, and I uh, sorry for interrupting your shower. I thought now was as good a time as any, which it obviously isn’t.” I laugh awkwardly, averting my gaze from his dick that I swear is suddenly staring at me through the towel. “I can totally come back lat-” I’m stuttering, and full-on rambling at this point.

God, this is embarrassing. Get yourself together Auden. He’s just a man.

An extremely hot… partially naked… wet man.

Asher laughs, stepping closer to me until the intoxicating scent of him surrounds me. “Auden, it’s fine. Let me throw some clothes on and we can talk, okay?”

I nod. I can’t believe I knocked on his door after midnight. What was I thinking?

Another grin turns his lip up playfully, “Do you want to come in? Or stay out here?”

“Uh, yes, sorry again…”

“Stop apologizing, Killer. Come in.” He laughs, then turns and walks back through the door. Tampering down my nerves, I follow behind him.

Even though our apartments are carbon copies of each other, his is still somehow completely different. There aren’t any pictures on the walls, aside from a few abstract paintings. In the living room, there’s a massive tv that is as big as a theater screen, with a surround-sound system and a gaming system. The apartment is decorated in neutral colors with splashes of black and muted gray.

It’s a total bachelor pad, but fits Asher perfectly. It’s exactly what I expected. It’s tidy, surprisingly stylish, and has little pieces of Asher all around. Art supplies, worn books, a stack of manga on the coffee table. There’s aStanger Thingsfigurine on the bookshelf, along with a miniature lightsaber, and a well-loved rubix cube.

“Your place is great,” I say, still gazing around.

“My sister is an interior designer for a firm here in Chicago. She came in and did the entire place. Can’t really take any credit for it. Be right back.”

He disappears down the hallway and into a room, and while he’s gone, I walk over to the massive art piece hanging in the hallway. It’s of a woman, done in charcoal, and it’s absoloutely breathtaking.

The detail is incredible. The woman…you can feel her pain. Her sorrow. The emotion bleeding from the lines. Her face wears a frown; her brow furrowed as she gazes down at a book in her hands.

Reaching out, I gingerly run the pad of my finger along the drawing.

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