Chapter Nine. Ember #11
Mentally crab-walking away from the terror of that premonition, I lift my head, meeting Asad’s steady gaze and praying mine doesn’t betray the confusion and panic playing hide-and-seek in my mind.
“Thanking me for head?” My lips twist into a sardonic half smile even as I mentally envision the quickest, easiest escape path out of this room. “That has to be a new one for you.” I shrug. “Given my inexperience, it was amateurish at best, but—”
“Don’t do that.” The sharpness of his words doesn’t match his low, quiet tone.
I still nearly flinch as if he’d shouted it.
God, I almost wish he had. “Don’t insult me, and don’t belittle yourself.
And don’t pretend that I’m not perceptive enough to understand what you did—and why you did it.
You believe there’s been nothing but hate and pain between us for over a decade.
And that could be true. But it’s also true that no one knows you better than me.
And no one on this earth knows me more than you. ”
A shudder races through me at that ominous-sounding proclamation, and denial is hot on its heels.
My lips part to tell him that’s some bullshit. But the objection won’t come.
The lie refuses to leave my tongue.
He reaches out, rubs the roughened pad of his thumb over my bottom lip in a firm caress that brands his fingerprint into my flesh.
“You knew what I needed, and you gave it to me. You and this pretty”—he presses hard against my lip, my teeth grinding into the tender flesh, a reminder of how hard pleasure and pain ride for each other—“ruin you call a mouth. A blind, foolish man would think with his dick and assume you just couldn’t wait to get you a taste.
But when it comes to you, I’ve never been blind or foolish.
Nah, you’ve been my dedicated field of study for years.
And you got on those knees to either distract me or comfort me.
And since both of us know you’d never admit to the latter, we’ll go with the first. So.
” He gives my bottom lip another firm pass, then drops his arm.
“You have my gratitude, no matter how uncomfortable it makes you.”
Once more, the denial becomes mired in my throat. I don’t want his gratitude, his … his unfamiliar softness. It has my survival instinct kicking me in the ribs, and screaming, Fuck fighting. Run!
But my feet are glued to the floor, and I’m stuck, trapped in uncertainty and doubt.
And curiosity.
But when it comes to you, I’ve never been blind or stupid. Nah, you’ve been my dedicated field of study for years.
What did he mean? Because if it’d been any other man, it would almost sound like he was obsessed with me. But this isn’t any other man. This is Asad Prince, my childhood bully, my tormentor, my enemy. My fiancé. The only obsession we’ve shared is hatred.
And now a burning, bottomless hunger that even now stretches and yawns low in my belly, even though his cum just filled it moments ago.
I take a step back from him.
And immediately recognize my mistake.
His silver eyes narrow, and his chin lowers as if he scents the tangy, acidic flavor of dread emanating from my pores.
My phone vibrates against my hip, and relief washes over me in a heavy deluge. Without breaking eye contact with Asad, I reach into my suit pocket and remove the cell, touch the screen, and lift it to my ear. I don’t bother looking because I don’t give a fuck.
“Yes.”
“Ember,” Perla says, and tension snaps into my body. She knows I’m in a meeting and wouldn’t call unless it was vitally important. “When you have a minute.”
Code for Get your ass here now.
“Noted.” Ending the call and slipping the phone back into my pocket, I give Asad an insincere, small smile. “Are we done here? I’m needed back in the lab.”
“Everything good?” he asks, those too-perceptive eyes roaming over my face as if attempting to ferret out the truth.
This is me though. I earn W-2s in ain’t-shit-here-to-see face.
“Of course. Are we done?”
He closely studies me for several more seconds, then slowly nods. “Yeah, we’re done, Ember.”
Not waiting for him to change his mind, I turn on my heel and stride toward the door.
“Don’t you want to know why she killed him?”
His voice rings out across the conference room just as my fingers close around the knob.
I freeze. My mind screams at me to move my ass.
That I’m almost home-free and to get the fuck up out of this room with its emotional and physical carnage.
But apparently, my body votes against my self-interest, because I remain at that door, waiting.
Hanging on the silence weighted down with expectation.
No, with anticipation.
I remain silent, but no words are needed. My presence and refusal to escape the room speak loudly enough.
“Turn around, Ember. Turn around and look at me if you want to indulge in my trauma porn.”
I don’t manage to fully control my flinch at his bald accusation, yet I still do as he orders.
And as I face him, the sarcasm drenching his voice also twists his lush mouth.
But even that mocking thing of a smile doesn’t reach his eyes.
No, they’re blank canvases of gray sleet and ice. Opaque, muddy, and … nothing.
My fingers remain curled around the doorknob, much like a shipwreck victim clinging to the shattered debris of a mast. It’s keeping me grounded, afloat.
Protecting me from diving into unchartered waters and swimming toward this suddenly unfamiliar …
vulnerable stranger to wrap my arms around him. Comfort him.
Lunacy. That is the urge to cross the room and touch him. Absolute lunacy.
“Ask me.” His demand is nearly mangled by the low growl of his voice. “Ask me what you want to know.”
No, don’t give in. Don’t surrender another inch. There’s been too many intimacies exchanged between us. My sanity can’t afford another one. Too bad my curiosity hasn’t received the menu. That bitch is shameless.
And apparently, so am I.
“Why did she kill him?” I murmur. “Only tell me if you want to, Asad. Only if you need to.”
Emotion flickers in his gaze, but it’s there and gone before I can decipher it, hidden behind that wall.
“If I need to?” He softly chuckles and shakes his head.
I almost tell him never mind; more than anyone, I understand the cost of allowing someone behind those barbed, guarded walls. Of wondering if you just handed your enemy a loaded gun with armor-piercing ammo.
Almost.
Because there’s this secret, hungry, clawing thing inside me that craves more of him. And it has nothing to do with his dick.
In all the years he’s been in my life, Asad has never understood the concept of personal space. Who am I kidding? He’s never given a fuck. And he doesn’t switch up on me now.
He stalks forward, his long, powerful legs aggressively eating up the distance until his big body towers over mine. It doesn’t escape me that only with him do I feel delicate, fragile … wanted.
And that kind of power is chains forged in titanium.