Chapter 9 #2
My hands hit my knees, my head spinning. “This is all happening so fast.”
“Hey,” he says, his voice softening. “Here.” He hands me my water and then immediately retreats, giving me space. “I’m sorry. I know it’s a lot. Take time to think it through. Tomorrow you’re back on the field with me for my pre-op.”
His pre-op. Hell. I right myself, already frowning. “I can’t be your surgeon anymore.”
That pulls him up short. “Why not?”
“Because you’re the father of my son.” I wave a hand toward Mason’s sleeping form. “It’s a conflict of interest. It’s unethical.”
He shakes his head. “No. That’s what makes you perfect for it. More so than you were before. You have more of a vested interest in the outcome.”
“Asher, I can’t.”
“You can,” he assures me. “We’re not a couple, and you’re not even living with me. Yet,” he tacks on. “I want you as my surgeon, Dr. Hathaway. And if you move in here with me or even downstairs, I’ll have your help with my recovery. It’s perfect.”
“Nothing about this is perfect.”
“You might be to me.”
I roll my eyes. “Sweet-talking me won’t get me to say yes. To any of this.”
“Then what will?”
I laugh, shaking my head. “I seriously hate football players.”
“Does that mean I should worry about you bringing home hockey players?”
My eyebrows bounce. “Now you’re talking.”
“Shit,” he snarls, snatching my glass from me and marching over to put it in the sink. “I won’t survive that.”
“Making you rethink this living arrangement, huh?” I quip.
He emits a shaky laugh and turns, his back against the white farm sink. “I’m an excellent cockblocker.”
“Nothing scares pussy away like living with your kid and baby mama.”
He grins at how I say that and gives me a lazy shrug. “I don’t bring pussy back here, Doctor. Occasionally I bring a woman home, but not all that often, and usually not during the season.”
I bark out a slightly bitter laugh. “Good for you. I haven’t had sex since that bathroom.”
His eyes burst wide, and in a flash, he’s before me once more. His hand grabs my shoulder, giving me a small shake. “Tell me you’re kidding.”
“What?” I ask, startled by his reaction. “No. I got pregnant. I had a kid and finished up my residency. When on earth was I supposed to find a man, let alone time for sex?”
He blinks sixty thousand times at me. “For real? That night was the last time, and I didn’t even make you…” He grunts. “Please, please, please let me make you come right now. Please.”
I gasp. “Asher—”
He gets right up in my face, his other hand hitting my waist where he grips me. Before I can make sense of what’s happening, he’s pulling me out of the kitchen and into the neighboring dining room, where he thrusts me up against the wall.
“What are you doing?”
He’s all over me once more, eliminating the space between us.
“I’ll make you come, and that will be it.
I swear. It’ll just be now. This moment.
Then you’ll leave with Mason and think about my offer, and tomorrow we’ll fall back into our regular roles—player and doctor.
But please, Wynter, I have to make you come.
The knowledge that I was the last man to touch you and it was awful is killing me. I can’t take it.”
I don’t know what to say. How to react. He’s beyond worked up over this. Red splotches stain his cheeks, and his eyes are wild—a little manic—filled with lust and determination.
At my silence, his face plants in my neck, and his lips begin trickling kisses.
“Please,” he whispers against my skin, making me shudder and my eyes roll back in my head.
I need to say no, but now the hand on my shoulder is sliding across my body until it’s captured my ribcage.
His thumb brushes the side of my breast, and tingles of heat shoot straight to my core. “Please.”
Oh God. His please in that sultry, sexy, gruff voice…
I open my mouth. I go to tell him no. But his tongue snakes out and licks over my racing pulse just as his thumb roves over my hard nipple, and a moan comes out instead.
“Please,” he rasps, nipping at me, his hand covering my breast as the one on my hip slowly slides down and toward the top of my mound, where it pauses.
“Let me touch you. Let me make you come. It’s only this.
Only now.” He presses me into the wall. “You’re so beautiful.
” He pulls away from my neck, and his smoldering gunmetal eyes meet mine before they dip to my lips. “So fucking beautiful. Please.”
Only he doesn’t wait. His head tilts, and then his mouth comes down over mine just as his hand slides into my shorts, beneath my thong, and cups my bare pussy.
He growls into my mouth, low and feral. “You’re wet, my pretty ice queen. And there is nothing cold about what I’m feeling right now.”
“Asher. This is a mistake. We can’t do this.” Only I grip his shoulders and rock into his touch, my head back against the wall, and my eyes closing.
“It’s only now,” he repeats. “You can do this with me right now.”
I shake my head but continue to seek more of his touch.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” he urges in a dark, dirty voice. “Rub yourself on me. This is how it was supposed to be. I’m going to make you feel so good.”
His lips attack mine once more, his tongue sliding inside my mouth just as two of his fingers slide inside of me. His other hand shoots up my shirt, pulling the cup of my bra away so he can squeeze my breast without any barrier between us.
“Fuck, how I’ve wanted to touch these. How I’ve missed your mouth.”
It’s so much. It’s sensory overload. The mass and heat and scent of his body pressed against mine. His mouth and tongue ravaging my own. His hand pinching and rolling my nipple, and his fingers plunging in and out of me. Angling so they can hit that perfect spot inside me each and every time.
Restless, uncontained hips grind against my side, making his hard cock rub up and down my thigh.
The feel of it—of him hard like this for me where he can’t stop himself from fucking my thigh—has my core clenching around his fingers.
He moans when he feels it and picks up his pace, his thumb starting to work my aching clit, rubbing it, pressing in on it.
All I can do is hold on. All I can do is whimper and moan and feel .
“Your pussy feels so good,” he praises against my lips.
“Give it to me. Gush all over my hand.” He’s pumping into me harder, grinding deeper, working me faster.
“You hear that? You hear how wet you are for me? You’re going to come so hard and I’m going to watch your pretty face as you do.
And then tonight, I’m going to jerk my cock until I come all over my hand—the same hand that’s fucking your sweet pussy—while I picture you exactly like this.
You’re so fucking sexy. You make me so hard, Wynter. ”
His filthy words wrench a loud moan from me, my hips arching up, needing more of him. Sharp teeth graze my lower lip, and then he breaks the kiss, both of us panting for air. I don’t open my eyes, but I know he’s watching me. Staring at me as I unravel against his touch.
He meant what he just said. I know those words weren’t simple dirty talk to get me off. Tonight, he will jerk himself off. To me. Because this is exactly what he wanted that night.
It’s what I wanted, too.
I wanted his promise. I wanted him to make me come hard.
I want him to do that now.
I tell him that and he loses it. Roughly, he bites into my neck as his fingers bang in and out of me, his thumb working me harder, faster, rubbing my clit over and over until glitters of light dance behind my eyes.
Calloused fingers grip my breast, squeezing it nearly to the point of pain, and I detonate.
I come on a cry and a shattered moan as I ride his hand, rolling and pressing deeper against him as wave after wave of pleasure pounds through me.
His hand slows, and his grip on my breast slackens as bit by bit I start to come down.
My body sags, and my eyes lazily open to find him right here in front of me.
He pulls his fingers from me, and I wince slightly at that loss.
Untamed, heavy-lidded eyes hold mine as he paints his bottom lip with my cum.
His tongue juts out, tasting it before sucking his fingers into his mouth and licking them clean.
Jesus, if that isn’t hot. I whimper, biting my lip.
“I can’t believe we just did that.” The words come out broken, a little panicked, slightly frazzled.
He doesn’t get a chance to respond as Mason makes a noise in the other room, and I quickly adjust myself and fly out of the dining room, away from Asher, and back into the kitchen. Mason is awake in his stroller, looking around, but thankfully not upset enough to cry.
“Hey,” I say in my mommy soothing voice, pinching my eyes shut as I kiss his forehead. I just let Asher do that to me with my sleeping son in the next room. I half stand and force a smile. “You ready to go home? Back to Grandma and Grandpa’s?”
I’m shaking. I know I am.
Asher is beside me, his hand sliding along my back until he’s crouching down in front of Mason.
“I’ll see you soon, big guy. Okay?” He leans in and kisses his forehead, the tip of his nose, each cheek, and I close my eyes, willing my heart to slow.
He stands back up and takes my hand, jerking it until I look at him.
“Please think about my offer with serious consideration.”
Everything he just did to me in the dining room is gone from his face. It’s as if it never happened, and I blow out a relieved breath. It really was only that.
“I will.”
I push Mason’s stroller and head for the door, needing to get out of here. I just let Asher Reyes make me come, and now he wants me and our son to move in with him. I’m in a lot of trouble.