Chapter 21 #3
Deep breath in. And then out.
“For how I treated you in my office. You were just looking out for me, and I’m a bit on edge right now.”
“Understandable.”
A bluster of nerves traveled up her spine at the gruff texture of his tone. Without thinking, she circled the table and lifted her hand to his chest. The memory of his text seared her mind.
He wrapped a hand over her wrist as if he were going to remove her hand, but when her eyes journeyed to his, she saw a hard depth to his browns.
“Do you want to dance?” she asked, not sure what the hell she was doing right now.
“You think that’s a good idea?” His brow furrowed.
“Probably not.” Her stomach turned at the idea of leaving the club without him, though. “But I’m not sure if I care right now.” This brush with honesty was intoxicating, and she wanted to lean in to it, to give in to the truth. To give in to him.
He lifted his chin and glanced up at the second level of the club. A few people stood near the railing, observing the dancers below.
Without responding, he took hold of her hand and guided her through the pack of people and toward their friends.
Asher said something to Liam she couldn’t hear, and then led her off the dance floor and toward the spiral staircase.
He kept his hold on her, never letting go—as if he was afraid she might run—and then they walked side by side up the flight of steps.
The upstairs was less crowded, but the music still pulsed hard, practically rattling her body.
They strode to a dimly lit area. He let go of her hand and motioned to an empty booth. “I need a drink first.” She was pretty sure he’d spoken through gritted teeth, his lips barely parting with his words. He gestured for a staff member.
She settled onto the seat and smoothed her dress down.
“I’m good,” she said when the cocktail server stopped by their table a beat later.
“Maker’s Mark. Straight.” He rubbed both his palms down his face and stared at her from across the table once the server had vanished.
An obvious unease spread across his face. She was beginning to wonder if maybe his discomfort wasn’t just about her. Maybe Sarah was right about the night.
She didn’t want to bring it up, though. So, she pointed a finger in the air at the change in song. “One of my favorites.”
He thanked the server after she’d delivered the drink and raised the tumbler to his lips, never taking his eyes off Jessica. “I like it,” he said before taking a swig.
“You like rock music, I thought.”
“Yeah, well, this house techno stuff is decent.”
“‘House techno stuff’?” She smiled as he gulped down more of his drink, not even flinching from the straight liquor. “So, what really happened with the bet?”
He set his drink down and rested his forearms on the table, and she focused on his hands. The knuckles still recovering from the damage he’d done last week at the fight club.
“We were at a nightclub in Mexico City, keeping tabs on a courier for the cartel, and Knox made a bet.”
“Yeah, I got that part. What kind of bet?” She leaned back and observed him.
He scratched at his beard. “There was a woman.”
Her stomach didn’t just drop at his words.
It was a freefall. And no chute. Wind whooshed through her hair, and she was going to crumple upon contact with the ground.
She reached across the table and took a hard swallow of his drink, nearly choking on it.
A smile crossed his lips, the first of the evening. “You okay, Peaches?”
A fluttering sensation blew through her chest. Unwelcome thoughts and feelings raining down over her. A hard case of jealousy. “I’m fine.” She pushed the drink back to him. “That’s, uh, strong.”
“Mm-hm.” He drained the glass.
“Since when do you mix business with pleasure on an op?” She forced the words out as steadily as possible, but she wondered if he could see the beats of her heart pumping relentlessly.
He cocked his head to the side. “I don’t.”
“Well, what happened?”
“Does it matter?”
Yes. No. Damned if she knew what to say. “Why’d you even take his bet?”
“I didn’t, which was the problem.”
“I don’t follow.” She straightened a touch and rested her folded arms in front of her on the table.
“He was trying to prove a point, Jessica.” The way he said her name sent goose bumps scattering across her skin. “I’d rather cut my hair than entertain a bet involving hitting on some woman in a club.”
Her brows drew inward. “So, the forfeit cost you your hair?” She rolled her tongue over her lips, wetting them. “Not very fair of him.”
“Like I said, maybe I needed a change.” He roped a hand around the back of his neck and looked away from her.
“Well, you had your drink. Do you still want to dance?” She shifted off the seat and stood, and his eyes dropped to her legs.
The mother of all breaths left his lips as he rose in his black boots. “You seem better. Are you better?” He didn’t touch her yet, though. A foot of space still separated them.
“I don’t know what I am,” she answered honestly as she stared deep into his eyes, losing herself. Her thoughts. Even the roadblocks between them.
Gone. Gone. Gone.
He kept his eyes on her as if getting a read, and then he did it—he closed the gap. He braced his hands on her hips, and her palms landed on his hard chest.
Her lip quivered as she thought about his text before Egon had taken her in Berlin. The text she’d never had a chance to see.
“Asher, I, uh.” She had to fight like hell to get the words out, but a touch of relief raced through her body when she’d managed, “I missed you while you were gone, and I . . .” Her throat thickened. “Be with me tonight.” A statement. Not a question.
His head didn’t jerk back like she expected. But there was definite surprise in his eyes. Conflict, too. She didn’t blame him after their last conversation at her office, but he asked, “Only for tonight?”
He wanted more, but would she ever be capable of more?
“Could we start with tonight and see where—” His mouth stole her words, and his hands swooped from her hips to her face, holding her in place as his tongue twined with hers.
She groaned against his lips, readying for him hard and fast.
Her body hummed to life, chucking every last negative thought out of her head as she clung to ideas of what was to come.
“Fuuck,” he murmured against her lips before pulling away. “We need to get out of here.”
She found his eyes, his hands still on her face. “I know all of the exits,” she said breathlessly, still reeling from the kiss.
He nodded but pressed his mouth to hers again, hungry for more.
He had her backing up to one of the columns, and he pinned her to it, caging her with his body, not giving a damn who was around. “This dress,” he rasped as his hand traveled up her thigh and roamed over her flesh.
“I thought we were leaving,” she said with a light laugh when his mouth found her neck and planted sucking kisses there.
“We are. I just need—” He pulled away, his chest rising and falling. His eyes narrowed on hers. The conflict gone now. “I need you,” he whispered.