Chapter 21
LILY
The sound of a loud engine is what rouses us. Then the closing of car doors is what makes us fly out of bed in a frenzy. My wide eyes catch Asher’s as we stare at each other for a moment, each standing on opposite sides of my bed, making sure our brains are really comprehending what’s happening.
It’s the voices that kick us into motion.
“The twins are home!” I whisper-yell, my heart in my throat as I jump around on the spot like I have ants in my pants, even though I’m completely naked.
With his firm arse bare, Asher dashes towards the bedroom door, about to rush out when the sound of the front door opening freezes us both in our tracks.
Asher’s whisky eyes go round, and he mouths. ‘Oh, shit.’
Oh, shit’s right! Oh, fucking shit!
My sons are home and I’m in my bedroom stark fucking naked with their best friend.
Glancing at the clock on my bedside table, I see it’s just after nine in the morning.
They weren’t meant to be here until later.
This whole thing would be comical if I wasn’t about to get sprung in a very compromising position with the twins’ mate.
Asher’s hands are cupped over his junk, his head whipping from side to side as he looks around. I’m not sure what he’s looking for, but there’s no fucking escape hatch here.
“Mum!” one of the twins calls, and in a panic, I rush forward, gripping Asher’s shoulders and usher him quickly into the bathroom.
My eyes duck back over my shoulder as we go, looking for any sign of my bedroom door opening.
Asher scoops up some of his clothes as he goes, and I grab up the rest and throw them at his head just before he shuts himself inside my bathroom.
“Mum!” My bedroom door rattles with a knock, and I instinctively cover my breasts and exposed pussy.
“Hang on!” I call. “I’m just getting dressed!”
It’s been years since the twins have barged in without an invitation, so I don’t know why I think that’s changed, but there is no bloody way I’m taking any chances.
The muffled sounds of the twins’ deep voices start to fade as they move further into the house, and I dash to my wardrobe to find some clothes, chucking them on quickly.
“Lil.” Asher’s hushed voice draws my attention, and I turn to see a single eye peering out through the cracked bathroom door.
Later, I just know we are going to laugh about this.
As I right my clothes and pull my hair free from the collar of my dress, I move up to the door.
“I’ll go out and see them,” I whisper. “Can you try to sneak out the front door or something while I distract them?”
Asher suddenly pulls open the bathroom door, snatching my hands and tugging me inside, and the next second I find myself pressed between him and the wall.
“I’d rather just stay in here all day and worship you.” His playful gaze is tempting, no longer looking the least bit concerned that his best mates are in the house.
I melt into him, wishing there wasn’t this huge dilemma between us that makes it impossible for me to show the world how I feel about him.
“Raincheck?” I squeak, and he grins.
“I’m holding you to that.”
“I have no doubt.” I grin back, and a moment later, he presses his lips to mine.
Dear God, I could kiss this man all day.
There’s something about the way Asher kisses that has me melting, and utterly addicted. I’ve been trying to figure out what it is that’s different from his kiss, to all the others I’ve ever had, and I’m still coming up empty as to what exactly it is.
It’s claiming, yet gentle. All-consuming, yet it feels like it sets me free. His lips nibble at mine like I’m a dessert he never wants to stop tasting, and the brush of his tongue is like a magical wand that instantly ignites heat between my thighs.
No one has ever kissed me the way Asher Scott does.
When we pull apart, it’s only because we can hear the twins’ heavy feet pounding the stairs, and I know they are going to find Asher missing.
“I’ll say you must have stepped out or something.”
His smirk is sinister, but he nods before nipping at my lips one last time, and when I turn to step back out through the bathroom door, he gives my arse a good, hard slap.
I bite back my squeal, not wanting the twins to hear, but I’m pretty sure Asher just branded his handprint onto my butt.
Fucker.
A quick glance in the mirror next to my wardrobe shows I’m now dressed properly. I have no makeup on, but that’s nothing new to the twins. Especially on weekends at home.
My hair, though, is a wavy mess. Not completely unruly, but I certainly don’t look as put together as I normally do. I typically wear my hair straight and smooth, and occasionally up. I rarely let my natural waves have freedom, but today it will have to do.
Slipping from my room, I find the twins in the living area, quietly arguing over something.
“Hi boys.” I smile when their gazes dart up from whatever it is on their phones that caught their attention.
“Hey, Mum.” Jude smiles, leaving his brother’s side to close the distance, throwing his arms wide for a hug.
I step into it and inhale his scent, freezing at the thought that perhaps I smell like Asher. I forgot to spritz myself with perfume.
“Have you grown taller?” I ask, pulling back to look up at my son, and he shoots me a wink.
“Maybe.”
“Have you got a hug for your mum, too?” I turn to face Ronan, who cringes.
“Muuum. Jude is the hugger. Just give him another one and pretend it’s me.”
I shake my head. “Nope. Get your arse over here.”
His shoulders drop like I just asked him to clean his room, and he drags his feet across the floor as he slowly approaches me. I giggle at his antics, and a glance at Jude shows me he’s rolling his eyes at his brother.
Aside from some personality traits that individualise them, it can be really hard to tell which one is Jude and which one is Ronan.
They are identical, but often wear their hair a little differently, and have different tastes in clothing brands.
That’s all well and good, but if you don’t know that about them, you’d still have a hard time determining which one is which.
Then there are the times the little shits decide to swap identities. If it weren’t for the small chickenpox scar just under Jude’s left ear near his jaw, then I’d have to hope they aren’t playing pranks on me, based on their looks.
Jude has always been a bit of a mumma’s boy. He loves cuddles, and even after all these years, he's never been embarrassed to show me affection in public and in front of his school friends.
Ronan is another story.
With great reluctance, Ronan reaches out to give me an awkward hug-slash pat on the back before wrenching himself away.
I can’t help it. I laugh, shaking my head as I go to the kitchen for coffee.
“Where’s Asher?” Jude asks, and I slowly turn from the coffeemaker to see him leaning against the stone bench, his hands resting on the surface about the same place as my bare arse was the other night when Asher and I fucked before Barrett caught us.
My cheeks flush with heat.
“Oh, uh… maybe he went for a run. He does that a bit.”
“You okay, Mum?” Ronan asks, sliding a barstool out from the counter to take a seat. Then Jude does the same, finally moving away from where his best mate fucked me.
“Yep.” I clear my throat and offer them a fake smile, brushing my hair back behind my ear.
“What the fuck?!” Jude snaps, and I glare at him.
“Language!”
“What happened?” Ronan asks, and I glance at him, confused.
“What?”
Jude pushes from the barstool and storms around the counter, his eyes on the side of my head. Near my temple.
Oh.
Shit.
I completely forgot about the cut on my head. It must have been covered by my hair.
“What happened, Mum?” Raising his hand towards my ear, Jude brushes back more hair to reveal the small cut.
“Funny story.” I step away, brushing my hair back over it. “I got mugged last night.”
“What?!” the twins yell in unison.
“It’s fine. I’m fine. The police got the man. There’s no need to worry.”
“No need to worry?!” Jude snaps. “Of course we are gonna worry!”
The sound of the front door closing draws our attention, and a moment later, Asher strides into the room.
“What are we worrying about?” Asher asks, and the twins balk.
“The fuck?! Were you there when Mum got mugged?” Ronan leaps off his chair, charging towards Asher.
“What?” Asher shakes his head. “No. Why?”
“What the fuck happened to you then?” Jude asks this time, spotting Asher’s bruises as a result from his cage fight, and I sigh.
This isn’t good. Both Asher and I look like we’ve been in a scuffle. It would make sense that the boys think we were together given our battered appearances.
“Oh.” Asher’s whisky gaze darts to me briefly but returns to Jude’s in the next breath. “I’ve, uh, been fighting. At The Rough House.”
“Really?” Ronan asks, surprised, as he studies Asher’s bruised cheek.
“Why?” Jude asks, and Asher shrugs.
“Why else? Money.”
Jude frowns at that. “I don’t think you should be going to that place. It’s bad news.”
Jude is right. The Rough House is bad news, but how does he know that?
“It’s all good, man. I’ve got it under control.” Asher smirks, moving to the fridge and taking the orange juice out. “Weren’t you two coming later this morning?”
“I would’ve happily stayed in bed another couple of hours,” Ronan nods. “But Jude couldn’t wait to get home to see his mummy.”
I stiffen at the word I’ve been called for years, because now… all I hear is Asher’s voice saying it in that sultry tone.
“Sod off,” Jude snaps at his brother, while I try to keep my expression blank.
Their banter is refreshing, though. I’ve missed hearing them arguing with each other. I’ll savour it while they are here, because before too long, they will be gone once again, and I’ll be alone in this house.
Well, maybe not completely alone.
Asher is here.
Even though we aren’t religious, we still do the white meat thing on Good Friday, so while Asher excuses himself to have a shower, I get started on preparing some fish before the twins step in to help me.