12. Asher
Chapter twelve
Asher
I hadn’t been quite truthful with Dahlia, and that made me feel uncomfortable. The truth was, I had gotten yelled at for barging in on the mayor’s speech and making his media coordinator cry. I was on thin ice at work and had to be really careful for the next few weeks.
That was becoming difficult because I was getting too attached to our key witness.
Seeing her standing there, terrified and shaking while that blowhard had basically waved her around like a shiny bauble had made me see red.
I didn’t get angry often, not like that, and that feeling of rage coursing through my veins scared me.
Instead, I swallowed the anger, letting myself get a dressing down from my unit supervisor, and then I scheduled an emergency session with my therapist.
The doctor was a genuinely nice man, always willing to accommodate last minute sessions since his clientele were a bunch of agents with unpredictable schedules.
He’d told me basically the same thing that Dahlia had, that I needed to focus on the things I could control and let go of the rest. But that was easier said than done, and at the end of the day, I was still lying awake on a couch that wasn’t my own, thinking inappropriate thoughts about the woman in the next room, anger simmering under my skin.
I wanted to sleep, my body was aching for it.
I had a headache pounding behind my eyes that pain killers wouldn’t touch, and there was a restless prickle under my skin that wouldn’t calm down.
My mind wandered back to earlier today, when Dahlia had been teasing me and attacking me with beauty products.
The feeling of her hips settling over mine had nearly ended me right there.
She could’ve done anything to me at that point and I wouldn’t have complained, just to be that close to her.
I’d never felt this kind of palpable ache before, it was like I craved her skin against mine.
Even now, the mere thought of it had my body responding in a very noticeable way.
I knew I should have mentioned something to my therapist about this, but I was honestly too afraid to even say it out loud.
Having a visceral reaction to someone involved in a case was wrong to begin with.
But someone who had just gone through a significant trauma?
That was twisted in a way that made my stomach clench with guilt and shame.
Dahlia had just escaped a man with an unhealthy attachment to her, and now the person charged with keeping her safe was developing one as well?
I should be fired, or beaten, for having thoughts like that.
There were outlets for the rage, like going to the gym and burning it off with exercise.
But no amount of exercise seemed to help with this, and I didn’t know what would anymore.
If I mentioned it to Hunter, he would take me off the case immediately, and then I didn’t know what I would do.
I might just go insane at that point. Even leaving her for the afternoon today had been hard enough, and the look on her face when she had seen me tonight. ..
I groaned, my hand dropping to my dick, which was painfully hard and straining against the fabric of my sweatpants.
I double-checked that both bedroom doors were closed, and tugged my pants down just enough so that it could spring free, and I gripped it tightly, trying to ease the pressure that was building.
I thought about how her skirt had gathered up high on her hips as she had straddled me on my office chair, leaving only a couple thin layers of fabric between us.
It had taken every ounce of my self-control to not react to her, even when her hips had clenched against my thighs to hold herself steady.
I stroked myself, biting my lip to stay quiet, imagining what it would be like to let her use me anyway she wanted, anything to make her happy.
Tonight, after she had punched me for startling her, I could see that her nipples were hard underneath her thin tank top.
My hips bucked as my grip tightened, my strokes becoming faster as I imagined teasing those nipples, wondering what noises she would make if I took one into my mouth.
I wanted to worship her with my tongue, make her feel satiated and safe and desired, just like she deserved.
My hips stuttered, and I clenched my jaw as I came, shooting hot spurts over my hand and my stomach.
Breathing hard, I laid still on the couch for a moment, shame rolling through my stomach.
I finally forced myself to get up and wandered over to the kitchen, grabbing some paper towels to clean myself up.
Cleaned up but still feeling dirty, I walked over to the couch, settling back down to sleep. My eyes finally drifted close as I let my exhaustion overpower the thoughts swarming around my brain.
Hopefully, tomorrow will be a better day.
I jolted awake violently, nearly falling off the couch in my panic.
My brain was fighting off the last dregs of sleep as I tried to get my bearings and figure out what woke me.
Hunter’s door flew open as he ran out, his gun drawn and looking just as confused as I was.
His eyes met mine but there was no surprise in them, so he must’ve seen my text.
Another scream pierced the air, and I jerked my head over to Dahlia’s room.
That was what must’ve woken me up. Hunter raised his gun, advancing on the door, as Dahlia screamed again, but this time it almost sounded like my name.
“Hold on,” I told Hunter, lunging for the door before he could reach it first. “She has pretty bad nightmares, just hang back a bit okay?” I warned him, and he lowered his gun a little, nodding at me.
I opened her door, and sure enough, she was alone, thrashing violently in bed, her hands clawing at her throat.
“Dahlia, wake up, it’s just a dream,” I called out, approaching slowly.
She’d scratched her neck already, half-ripping off the bandage protecting the damage from the taser collar.
Fuck, she was going to hurt herself if she continued on this way.
“Dahlia, stop! You’re okay, you’re safe,” I insisted, and moved closer, grabbing her hand before she could do any more damage.
Her eyes flew open, unseeing and terrified, and I braced myself as she lunged at me, her free hand wrapping around my throat as we both toppled backward onto the floor.
I landed hard on my back, and Dahlia crashed against my chest, knocking the air out of my lungs.
Her hand tightened on my throat, and I let go of her other hand quickly, dropping my arm to my side and letting her feel that she won the fight.
I could see the moment when she woke up fully, her hand relaxing its grip enough so I could suck in a breath.
“Oh, Ash,” she breathed, her brows creasing with a frown.
Her eyes shot up to Hunter, who was standing slack-jawed in the doorway, gun at his side, and I felt her tense on top of me, her thighs gripping my waist in a way that forced me to try and do long division in my head.
Her hand still hadn’t left my throat, her fingers tensing against my pulse point.
“Jesus Christ, remind me to never volunteer for wake up duty,” Hunter muttered, and Dahlia blushed, finally letting go of my neck and standing up shakily.
“I told you, just use a glass of water next time,” Dahlia rasped, her throat strained from screaming. I pushed myself up and glared at Hunter, who was clearly making her feel uncomfortable.
“And I told you that I wasn’t going to just throw water on you,” I replied evenly.
I checked the time, and it was early, but not unreasonably so, so more sleep was out of the question, for me at least. “Want some coffee?” I asked, and she rubbed her arms and nodded, following me silently as I walked back out into the kitchen.
I busied myself with the little coffee maker as she sat down at the table, and I heard Hunter wander off.
He returned as I’d gotten the coffee brewing, his gun stored safely back in its holster.
I looked over where Dahlia was sitting at the table, her arms wrapped around herself, eyes staring unseeing at the fridge in front of her.
I went over to my duffle bag which was sitting underneath the conference table and pulled out my hoodie that I’d gotten from the FBI academy.
It was big, even for me, but it would do for now.
I brought it over to Dahlia and helped her pull it on, then I went and filled a mug full of coffee and set it down in front of her, grabbing another for myself before I sat down.
Hunter joined us, but I knew better than to offer him any.
“Tell me about it,” I prompted her softly, and her hands clenched against the mug.
She looked so damn small right now, especially when she was enveloped in the oversized hoodie, and it made me angry to see her this way.
Hunter was unnaturally quiet, observing us both, his mouth set in a grim line.
His hair, normally neat and styled, was rumpled and sticking up from sleep, his jaw covered in black and white stubble.
He always reminded me of my eccentric Uncle Tom when he looked like this, it made him softer somehow.