Chapter 7
Asher
Kissing Roxanne is a catastrophic mistake. I know that immediately. I know it the second her mouth opens beneath mine with a soft sound that shoots straight through my bloodstream like fire.
Everything about her feels dangerous.
The taste of cinnamon lingers faintly on her tongue as I devour her like a starved animal. And I am indeed starving.
The way her fingers fist against my jacket like she wants to shove me away and pull me closer at the same time mirrors exactly how I feel.
The heat of her body pressed against mine is the highlight of this whole thing.
Fuck!
I should stop this now, but I can’t bring myself to. So I drag her closer. Hard enough that she gasps softly against my mouth.
That sound nearly destroys what little control I have left.
“You’re angry,” she breathes when I finally pull back just enough to look at her.
Her lipstick is ruined, and her blue eyes are dazed. For a moment, I understand why men make reckless decisions over women like Roxanne Sinclair.
“Very,” I admit.
“Then why are you kissing me?”
Because I’ve wanted to since the day you walked up to me seven years ago, looking like trouble wrapped in silk. Because every time another man touched you, I imagined breaking his hands. Because hearing Hudson laugh with you nearly made me irrational.
I could say this and reveal just how much she weakens my principles, but I slide my hand around her throat lightly and kiss her again.
Her breath catches instantly. The reaction goes straight to my head.
Roxanne melts against me with a soft sound that feels dangerously close to surrender, and something possessive twists violently inside my chest.
Mine. The thought arrives so suddenly it almost startles me.
I tighten my grip on her waist instead.
“This is a bad idea,” she whispers shakily.
“I know.”
Neither of us moves away. This tension between us has been building for too long, and I’m sure she also doesn’t want to let it go.
It's been a whole year of stolen glances, arguments, and complete desire, so letting go now doesn’t even cross my mind.
I back her toward the suite wall slowly without breaking the kiss. Roxanne’s hands slide into my hair, ruining the careful control I usually maintain within seconds.
I groan against her lips.
I can’t think straight when she touches me.
The realization is deeply inconvenient. My mouth drifts down her jaw, then along the pulse in her throat. She shivers hard when I bite lightly beneath her ear.
“Asher.”
My name on her lips nearly undoes me.
It's not the usual angry and cold Mr. Sterling, and that doubles the pleasure and arousal I feel. My dick pushes hard against the fabric of my pants, threatening to burst.
She lets out a rapid moan as I go into her body. It’s a low and breathless sound that tells me she also hates how much she wants me, too.
“You should tell me to stop,” I murmur against her skin.
She laughs softly, her voice unsteady. “You first.”
The hell, I will.
That’s the end of whatever restraint remained. I lift her easily, and she wraps her legs around my waist immediately, like instinct.
Her body fits right against mine like she belongs there. And she does.
I kiss her harder, drowning her moans as I carry her. By the time we reach the bedroom, neither of us is thinking clearly anymore.
Roxanne’s dress ends up somewhere on the floor beside my jacket while I drag my mouth down the soft curve of her body.
I snag one of her perky nipples in my mouth, and she howls in pleasure.
The sound sends a jolt of approval through me, while my hand caresses every aspect of her sexy body.
Christ.
She’s gorgeous. Soft in all the places that make a man lose his mind, and curvy enough that my hands barely know where to settle first.
The sight of her spread across my bed, looking flushed and breathless because of me, snaps something primitive inside my chest.
“Asher,” she says again softly, her hand pulling around her full breasts.
I raise my head up immediately, and something about her expression stops me cold for half a second. She looks nervous.
It’s unlike her.
I can see that she wants this as desperately as I do, but still can’t fully believe it’s happening.
I ease her hands off her chest and kiss her navel. I cup one large breast in my hand, massaging it sensually.
Roxanne shivers beneath me. The idea of making her come apart in my hands again fills me with gratifying pleasure.
I kiss the inside of her thigh slowly. Then I murmur against her skin, “Tell me if you want me to stop.”
Her fingers tighten in the sheets instantly.
“I don’t,” she moans.
That’s all I need to continue. After that, everything blurs into heat and skin and loss of control. Roxanne is nothing like the women I usually keep in my bed.
She reacts to every touch and every kiss. The more sounds I pull from her, the harder it becomes to think rationally.
I slip my fingers into her sopping pussy and watch as her face contorts in pleasure. I pause my action, lean over her.
“Tell me you want me.”
She gasps. “Isn’t that already obvious?”
“I want to hear you say it,” I smirk.
An embarrassed flush fills her cheeks as she tries to look away from me. I pull my fingers out and lick them instinctively. She tastes just as sweet as I imagined.
“Look at me, Roxanne,” I say huskily.
She does. Her eyes are heavily hooded as she whispers, “ I want you, Asher.”
“Please, I want you to make love to me.”
Her pleas undo me quicker than any form of seduction could have. I step in between her and thrust my erection into her waiting heat.
Her entire body tenses beneath mine before she lets out the softest broken sound. My forehead drops against hers immediately.
“Fuck.” I moan.
She clutches my shoulders tightly, breathing unevenly.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Yes,” she whispers quickly, though she still sounds overwhelmed. “Just...don’t stop.”
I nearly lose my mind right there. After that, I stop trying to maintain control. I take her hard, every stroke pacing up by the second.
I claim her mouth angrily because, despite being inside her this way, I still don’t get why I want her this much.
And with every move, I can’t help but wonder if it’s an attempt to erase every memory of Tristan touching her before me. Not just Tristan, but any other man.
Roxanne arches beneath me with another breathless sound, and suddenly nothing exists except her.
Not the room, the hotel, or my brother. Everything else disappears, and there’s only Roxanne.
Her nails drag down my back as her legs wrap tightly around me.
She moans even harder against my mouth as she comes apart around me.
Her walls contract around me, sending me over the edge. In the moment, I can’t even decide if watching her orgasm this hard is what gave me the ultimate pleasure or having her warmth wrapped so snuggly around me.
Afterward, silence settles heavily through the suite except for our breathing. Roxanne lies curled against my chest while I lazily run my fingers along her bare spine.
Neither of us speaks for several minutes. The intimacy of the moment feels strangely dangerous.
I can’t remember the last time I stayed in bed with someone after sex. Usually, I prefer distance once the tension breaks. But with Roxanne, I can’t seem to stop touching her.
My hand drifts over her waist absently while she traces invisible patterns against my chest. Then reality crashes back hard.
Protection?
I go instantly.
Roxanne notices immediately, lifting her head slightly. “What?”
I stare at the ceiling for a second. Then curse quietly.
“What?”
“I forgot to use a condom.”
The words sound almost foreign coming from me. I never forget things like that.
Ever.
But somewhere between her arguing with me and kissing me like she hated me for it, my brain completely stopped functioning.
Roxanne blinks, then, surprisingly, she relaxes. “I’m on the pill.”
Relief hits harder than expected. Still, unease lingers beneath it because forgetting protection isn’t just careless. It’s unlike me.
And I dislike anything capable of making me lose control that completely. Which brings my attention directly back to the woman currently lying in my bed.
Roxanne isn’t healthy for me.
I study her quietly for a moment before asking, “How much?”
Her brows pull together slightly. “What?”
“How much were you asking Tristan for?”
Confusion flickers across her face first, then caution. I continue before she can answer.
“Whatever arrangement you had with him, I can cover it.”
She doesn’t say anything, and I lean back slightly against the headboard.
“I already told you before. If money is what you need, come to me instead.”
Roxanne stares at me like she genuinely doesn’t understand where this conversation is going. Which makes no sense.
“You don’t have to chase after Tristan,” I say calmly. “I’ll give you more than he ever could.”
The second the words leave my mouth, the entire atmosphere changes. Roxanne goes completely cold. Every trace of softness disappears from her expression instantly.
And for the first time since I met her, I genuinely can’t read what she’s thinking.
“You think that’s what this was?” she asks quietly.
The question catches me slightly off guard.
“What else would it be?”
The second I say it, I know something went wrong. Roxanne pulls away from me slowly, like she suddenly can’t stand being touched by me anymore.
She reaches for her dress without another word.
I sit up slightly. “Roxanne.”
She ignores me still and dresses in silence. However, there’s something deeply wounded beneath her composed exterior now.
I don’t understand why. Wasn’t this what she wanted? That’s how women like Roxanne operate. Isn’t it?
“You’re angry,” I say carefully.
A humorless laugh leaves her. “Congratulations, Mr. Sterling. Your observation skills remain unmatched.”
The formal title again pisses me off.
I frown slightly. “I’m offering to help you.”
“No.” She grabs her purse sharply. “You’re offering to buy me.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“It’s exactly what you said.”
Before I can respond again, she walks toward the suite door.
Every instinct in my body immediately resists letting her leave angry, but before I can figure out what to say, she’s already gone.
Twenty minutes later, I exited the suite still irritated and deeply unsatisfied. It isn’t until I step out onto the hallway that I remember why I came to the hotel in the first place.
I return to the restaurant, and sure enough, Tristan is still waiting. He must be really determined about this new business.
Guilt hits unexpectedly hard for half a second. I know it shouldn’t feel this hard since Tristan and Roxanne are no longer together.
However, something about this entire situation feels messy in ways I usually avoid.
Tristan notices me immediately.
“Well,” he drawls. “You took long enough.”
I straighten my cuffs calmly. “What do you want?”
His gaze flicks briefly toward my hair, and I wonder if I didn’t rearrange it properly. I wonder if he knows. The possibility instantly sharpens my irritation.
“If this is about Roxanne again?—”
“Oh, trust me,” Tristan interrupts with a laugh, “I’m done with that headache.”
Something about the way he says it bothers me immediately.
“She told you some dramatic story already?”
I study him quietly now. “What story?”
Tristan shrugs carelessly. “Whatever version she uses these days to make herself look innocent.”
I decide to ignore his comments for now and ask the most important question.
“Why did she come looking for you?”
“For money, like I said.” He shrugs. “Because she’s in trouble again.”
My expression hardens slightly. “What kind of trouble?”
Tristan hesitates for just a second too long before he whispers, “Debt.”
I frown. Roxanne never struck me as reckless financially. Careless emotionally, maybe, and definitely manipulative, but not irresponsible.
“What debt?” I ask flatly.
Tristan shrugs again. “Who knows with her? Expensive lifestyle probably caught up eventually.”
Something about the answer feels wrong. I think back suddenly to the look on Roxanne’s face when I first saw her with Tristan.
She was angry. And for the first time since this entire mess began, suspicion starts turning slowly in a different direction.
Toward Tristan.