Chapter Nineteen Imani #2
‘If I could, I’d skip the whole weekend and just…’ He trails off, searching for the right words. His eyes find mine again. ‘I’d rather spend it with you.’
I ignore the way my chest tightens and shake my head. ‘Careful,’ I murmur. ‘You keep saying things like that and a girl could really start to fall for you.’
Another step closer. ‘Would that really be such a problem?’
I swallow. ‘Yes, because we’re supposed to be pretending like we’re incompatible, not…’ I gesture helplessly between us. ‘Whatever this is.’
It hits me that this is the first time I’ve ever admitted out loud that there is something here between us. I wonder if he realises.
Asher’s mouth curves slightly. ‘We’re not very good at pretending, are we?’
He takes another slow step towards me, and the distance between us shrinks to almost nothing. It’s only then that his gaze flicks over to the mirror behind me and catches on the half-zipped back of my dress.
He clears his throat. ‘You didn’t finish zipping up.’
‘Oh. Right.’ My hand flies to the back of my neck like I can somehow fix it by sheer force of embarrassment. ‘I was waiting for Sloane to come and help, but you got here first.’
He hesitates. ‘Do you want my help?’
I should say no. I should laugh and wave it off and send him out of the room before this moment turns into something it shouldn’t.
But I’m apparently my own worst enemy and my voice betrays me.
‘Yeah,’ I murmur, turning around. ‘Please.’
Slowly, he closes in on me. I can feel his breath ghosting against my shoulder as his fingers find the zipper, the slither of cool metal brushing against the bare skin of my spine.
‘Tell me if I’m—’
‘You’re fine,’ I breathe, though my pulse disagrees entirely.
The zipper slides upward with a soft, steady rasp that feels louder than it should in the quiet of my room. His fingertips skim lightly over my back, and suddenly it feels like I’m on fire.
I inhale sharply. His fingertips graze against my skin again and I feel a line of warmth tracing up my spine.
We both look up at the same time. Our eyes meet in the mirror.
The world tilts.
‘Asher—’ I start, but whatever I was going to say dissolves in my throat when he turns me gently towards him.
‘Tell me to stop,’ he says quietly.
‘No,’ I whisper.
His hand slides to my waist, mine finds his shirt collar, and the moment his mouth finds mine, the world tilts again.
This kiss is nothing like our first. This kiss is hungry and all consuming.
It’s the kind of kiss that steals air from my lungs and reason from my mind all at once.
The firm hand on my waist tightens its grip and when I rise onto my toes, he meets me halfway, deepening the kiss until my knees threaten to give out.
He tastes like champagne and heat and every rash decision I’ve ever wanted to make over the last few months. I thread my fingers through his hair, tugging gently, and the quiet sound he makes in response sends a shiver all the way through me.
‘Asher…’ I breathe against his mouth, though I’m not sure if it’s a warning or a plea.
He answers by pulling me closer until there’s no space left between us.
The movement is effortless; one second my feet are on the floor, the next his hands are beneath me, strong and sure, lifting me up.
I gasp, instinctively wrapping my legs around him for balance, the silk of my dress gliding against his shirt.
We stumble back a step, laughing breathlessly into the kiss. The fabric of my dress bunches up to my waist and he slides his palms along my bare thighs tracing slow, reverent patterns against my skin.
He breaks away just long enough to look at me, chest rising and falling, eyes dark and unguarded. ‘You have no idea what you do to me,’ he murmurs.
I swallow hard, my fingers tightening around the collar of his shirt. ‘Then maybe tell me,’ I whisper.
He leans forward, brushing his nose against my cheek before kissing the corner of my mouth again in a manner so gentle it hurts. His hand disappears under the hem of my dress and drifts higher, fingers splaying against my back, tracing the outline of my spine.
I can feel every exhale against my skin, every tremor that gives away how hard he’s fighting to stay in control. I’m not doing any better.
My hands slide up from his chest to his shoulders, the muscles there flexing beneath my palms. I press closer, until I can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and the soft sound that escapes him is almost a groan.
I clutch at him, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt, my breath coming faster and faster.
Then—
A polite KNOCK KNOCK at the door.
We both freeze.
The scene is almost comical. Asher’s still holding me upright, my legs are still wrapped around his waist, my dress bunched up to my hips. Our lips are kiss swollen, my make-up is almost definitely smudged, and our hearts are racing.
Another knock, followed by, ‘Housekeeping!’
For a long, stunned second, neither of us moves. Then, slowly, like two people realising the punchline at the same time, we both start laughing. Breathless, disbelieving laughter that shakes through us and breaks whatever spell we just fell under.
I press my face into his shoulder to muffle it, still trembling from the adrenaline of our kiss. ‘This is not happening.’
Another knock, a little more insistent this time. It’s obvious the staff behind the door can hear us cackling away. ‘Housekeeping!’
‘One second, please!’ I call out, trying to sound normal, though my voice comes out half-gasp, half-giggle.
Asher finally sets me down, his hands lingering just a little too long at my waist before he steps back. The space between us feels charged and we’re both pretending not to notice.
I smooth my dress down, cheeks hot, and turn to face the mirror. My lipstick is smudged, my hair slightly frizzy, and there’s no way I can blame either on the humidity.
Asher clears his throat, running a hand through his hair. ‘So,’ he says softly, that familiar wry tone creeping back in, ‘about the plan for tonight…’
I force myself to look at him. ‘Right. The plan.’
He hesitates, and then says, ‘Do you still want to go ahead with it? The flirting, the fighting, the part where we pretend to hate each other?’
He’s looking at me like he’s pleading and I almost say no. Almost tell him that whatever this is feels too real to hide behind another performance. But the image of my father snaps me back into focus.
‘Yes,’ I say finally, the word coming out quieter than I mean it to.
Something flickers across his face but it’s gone as quickly as it appears. Disappointment, maybe? Or understanding.
Then, just like that, his expression smooths out and he’s all charm and composure again.
‘Good,’ he says, slipping his hands into his pockets like he hasn’t just completely undone me. ‘Then I’ll see you downstairs.’
He offers the faintest smile, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and then he’s gone.
I hear a startled gasp from the housekeeper as Asher exits my suite, some mumbled conversation, and then—
‘Ms Davies? I was just coming in to bring you some more towels…’
I wave the housekeeper in, pretending I don’t still taste Asher on my lips. She bustles about, oblivious, or maybe just polite enough not to comment on my obvious dishevelment – though, thankfully, I’ve have pulled my dress back down – while I stand rooted to the spot, heart hammering.
The second the door clicks shut behind her, I let out a deep breath and lean back against the table. My reflection in the window looks wrecked – hair mussed, lipstick faded, eyes still too wide. I look like a woman who has very obviously just been kissed senseless.
I wince. There’s no doubt in my mind that the housekeeper will be racing back to the rest of the staff with this piece of hot gossip on the tip of her tongue.
Asher Vouvalis was in Imani Davies’ suite. Alone. Just the two of them. Absolutely no trouble in paradise.
It’ll be on @TrustFundTea by the end of the night.
I came here to wreck my father’s plan and to prove that forcing Asher and me together would implode spectacularly.
Instead, I’m doing exactly what he wanted: playing the part of the perfect heiress, the one who can’t stay away from the man her father chose.
My father wanted headlines and chemistry and a public image that screams ‘Peregrine–Vouvalis power couple’.
And somehow, without even trying, I’m giving him exactly that.