Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Kat
My stomach flips over on itself, doing a sudden series of somersaults.
My heart stutters in my chest, skipping beats in a way that can’t be healthy.
For a second, I think I must be insane, that I’m totally wrong about what Asher is suggesting.
That my mind has gone to some wildly inappropriate place and he’s actually talking about something completely innocent.
But the look in his eyes, the way he holds my gaze with unblinking certainty, makes me realize I’m not wrong at all.
He wants to pretend to have sex in this room. Wants Daniel to hear it through these thin walls.
I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry as I lick my lips. “How would we even… do that?”
He chuckles, low and quiet, and the sound makes my skin prickle. “It shouldn’t be hard. I’m guessing the walls are pretty thin.”
I nod, because he’s right about that. I know this house well, and I know how easy it is to overhear things from one room to another.
“So we’d just need to make some noises,” he continues, his voice still low. “Bang the headboard against the wall a little. Make sure Daniel hears it.”
He shifts, going up on one elbow so he’s looking down at me.
In the dim light filtering in through the window, I can make out the sharp line of his jaw as his eyes gleam in the darkness.
“The real question is, do you want to? Do you want to let your ex know that you never think about him anymore? That you’ve moved on? ”
I consider that, my pulse racing so fast I can feel it in my throat, in my wrists, everywhere. I think about what Asher said earlier, about how Daniel likes to tell himself I’m pining for him. That I regret losing him, that I’m sitting at home alone wishing things had worked out differently.
And I realize that’s true. It’s been clear in the way he acts around me ever since I got back to Maplewood.
The pity I saw on his face when he spotted me at the airport, like he felt sorry for me when he thought I was all alone.
The way he almost seemed disappointed or annoyed when I told him I’m seeing someone, as if it bothers him to see me thriving in the wake of our relationship.
Well, fuck that.
I take a breath, trying to calm my racing heart. “Yeah. I do.” My stomach flutters again, and I can’t stop myself from adding, “But you’ll have to take the lead. I’m not really sure how to do this.”
“You’ll be great,” he says, and there’s something in his voice that makes heat pool low in my belly. “Just do what feels right. Follow your instincts.”
I nod, and there’s a charged moment between us as we stare at each other in the darkness.
The air feels electric, thick with anticipation.
The brightness of the falling snow outside illuminates the dim room enough that I can make out his shadowed features, and the look in his eyes makes my breath catch.
Then he groans softly, and the sound is so real, so full of desire, that it catches me off guard. “Mmm, baby. You smell so good.” His voice drops to a low growl. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”
His words shoot right through me like a lightning bolt, shocking me, sending sparks through my entire body. The way he says it, the heat in his voice, doesn’t sound fake at all. It sounds so fucking real. I gasp without meaning to, the sound escaping before I can stop it.
He nods encouragingly, and I realize I’m supposed to respond. To play my part in this. So I let out a little moan, soft and breathy.
He curses in response. “Fuck.”
I blink, unable to tell if that’s his honest reaction to the noise I just made, or if it’s still part of the act we’re putting on. I whimper again, letting the sound get louder this time, drawing it out a little.
“God, baby,” he murmurs, his voice rougher now, gravelly in a way that sets off a rush of butterflies in my stomach. “Get this nightgown off. I need to see all of you.”
He hasn’t moved since we started this, still propped up on one elbow about a foot away from me.
But he hasn’t looked away from me either, and even though it’s just words and he hasn’t touched me at all, it affects me more than I ever could have anticipated.
He’s staring at me in a way that almost makes me believe he actually wants to see me naked, that the thought of it is driving him out of his mind.
It takes me a second to remember how to speak, but I know that was my cue. It’s my turn to say something.
Dragging in a deep breath, I work up the courage to say, “You first. I want to see you too.”
Something shifts in his expression, the muscles in his cheek shifting as his jaw clenches. He makes a sound under his breath, an inarticulate noise that seems almost tortured. “Such a dirty girl. You want to see what you do to me?”
He shifts on the bed, making the old springs squeak, then groans again. The sound is deep and rough and goes straight to my clit.
My pussy clenches involuntarily, and I let out another sound that’s half moan, half whimper. “Fuck, you’re so…”
I don’t even know how to finish that sentence, my brain short circuiting a little as if the heat building inside me has fried the circuit boards. But it doesn’t seem to matter, because Asher takes over, filling the silence with more words that make my head spin.
“Is that what you want, bright eyes? Want to see how hard you get me?” He adjusts his position on the bed a little, making the sheets rustle, and I have to close my eyes for a moment as images of him stripping off his boxers flash through my mind.
“Now let me taste you. I’ve been fucking dying all night.
Watching you in that dress, so damn desperate to get my mouth on you. ”
He shifts his weight again, and the way the mattress dips in the middle brings us a few inches closer together. I squeeze my thighs together, so turned on by the lie we’re spinning that I feel like my skin could light the sheets on fire. My head feels light, my body hot all over.
Asher is looming over me a little now as I lie on my back on the bed, resting his weight on his elbow as he gazes down at me. When he lets out the kind of satisfied groan that someone might make when they taste their favorite dessert, I clench my hands as a needy little noise slips past my lips.
My whimpers build in pace and volume as I start to lose myself in the illusion of what we’re supposedly doing, becoming more uninhibited as I visualize the picture we’re painting with our voices—the way he would settle between my legs, his broad shoulders pushing my thighs apart, his mouth finding the part of me that’s currently throbbing needily as it demands attention.
I’ve always been a bit nervous when guys go down on me, self-conscious about my body.
I have a hard time relaxing with someone’s face down there, so close to parts of myself that I can’t help but feel anxious about.
The fullness of my thighs, the swell of my stomach.
But in this fantasy, I don’t have to worry about any of that. I just let myself go, running with it.
I moan softly, and then louder, and Asher punctuates my sounds with grunts and ragged groans, still talking to me in that rough voice.
“That’s it, bright eyes. Let me hear you. Fuck, you taste so good.”
Something about hearing him praise me using that nickname—the one that I assumed was as fake as the rest of what we’re doing—sends a fresh wave of arousal shooting through me. Each word he says sends the heat inside me bubbling higher and higher.
As my moans turn into breathy cries, he leans a little closer to me, his gaze locked on my face as his nostrils flare.
“You’re so fucking wet,” he rasps, his voice like sandpaper.
My heart lurches. I am. I can feel my arousal soaking the crotch of my panties, my clit pulsing steadily. Does he know that? Can he somehow tell?
No. Don’t be an idiot, Kat. It’s just part of the act.
He’s probably saying it for the same reason he’s said everything else, using his phenomenal dirty talk skills to help sell the fiction we’re creating for Daniel’s benefit.
“I can’t wait another second to be inside you. Are you ready for me?” he asks, his eyes searching mine.
My body responds before my brain catches up. “Yes,” I whisper, then realize it wasn’t loud enough for Daniel to hear through the wall. I clear my throat slightly and repeat it louder. “Yes. Please.”
His eyes flash with something that looks almost feral. “That’s my girl.” He pauses, then adds, “Get on your hands and knees for me.”
I almost do it. I’m so lost in the moment that my body nearly starts to move, immediately ready to follow his command, before I remember at the last second that it’s not real. Neither of us have moved much this whole time, so I don’t need to actually do it.
But he groans as if I did anyway, as if I’m right there in front of him on my hands and knees. The sound is heavy with appreciation and hunger. “Fuck, look at you. So perfect. You have no idea how good you look like this.”
He talks more, a mixture of praise and filthy promises that make my face burn.
Then he groans again, deeper this time, and I realize in a blinding rush that that’s the sound he might make if he was sliding inside me.
My stomach clenches, and I whine, crying out softly as my back arches a little of its own accord.
My clit is throbbing so hard it almost hurts, pulsing in time with my racing heartbeat.
Still leaning on his elbow, still looking at me with that heated gaze, Asher starts to rock the bed lightly. The old frame creaks with each movement, and the headboard claps against the wall with a rhythmic thump, creating the perfect illusion of what we want Daniel to think is happening.
We keep making noises, building higher and higher. Asher’s eyes burn in the darkness, the muscles in his neck taut. “That’s it, baby. God, you feel so good. So tight. So perfect.”
Then he nods at me, and I realize what he’s getting at. We need to finish this. Need to sell it completely.
Letting go of the last bit of self-consciousness that’s still clinging to me, I let out a naked cry as if I’m coming, my voice rising and breaking on a moan.
My toes curl beneath the sheets, and even though it’s all supposed to be fake, I feel myself hanging right on the edge, every atom in my body begging desperately for release.
Asher lets out a sound like nothing I’ve ever heard before, a long, harsh groan that seems to come from somewhere deep inside him. It’s so rough, so primal, so masculine, that it undoes me completely.
The arousal that’s been building inside me breaks like a water balloon being punctured, sending a rush of sensation surging through my body.
It spreads through my limbs, making them buzz with energy and heat, and my clit pulses over and over again as my fake orgasm tips over into something very, very real.
My muscles go tense, the climax washing over me in rolling waves that seem to go on forever.
I bite my lip to keep from making the wrong kind of sound, the kind that would give away that this isn’t pretend at all.
As the pleasure slowly starts to ebb away, I drag in a shuddery breath and let it out slowly, trying to even out my breathing as he stops rocking the bed. But little aftershocks keep shooting through me, my pussy clenching around nothing.
For several heartbeats, Asher and I stare at each other, both breathing hard.
The rest of the room seems to fade away, and all I’m aware of is his proximity, the hint of his familiar woodsy, spicy scent.
His broad chest expands with a deep inhale, and the blanket that covers us both slips a bit lower, revealing more of his muscled torso.
“I think… Daniel got the message,” I whisper, finally finding my voice.
Asher nods, not looking away from me. “Yeah. I think he did.”
The moment draws out, neither of us moving at all. Then he clears his throat suddenly and sits up, breaking eye contact as he rests his elbows on his knees.
The spell I’ve been lost in shatters, and I press a hand to my mouth, stiff and mortified. I just came. I actually came when it was all supposed to be pretend, when we were just putting on a show for my ex. What the fuck is wrong with me?
When Asher gets up and strides into the bathroom a second later, I take the opportunity to fan myself with the covers, trying to cool down. My panties are soaked, my thighs sticky with it, and my body is still humming in the aftermath of one of the most powerful orgasms I’ve ever had.
And he never even touched me.
I’m so distracted by my attempts to tamp down the lingering arousal and make sure I’ll look natural when Asher comes back into the room that I almost miss it—a soft sound from the bathroom. It’s just a little noise, barely audible, but it makes my cheeks flame hot.
Holy shit. Is Asher…?
I shake my head, telling myself I’m crazy. He’s not in there taking care of himself. There’s no way he was that affected by what we just did.
I got too caught up in the fantasy because I’ve never had a guy talk to me that way and it’s been longer than I’d like to admit since I had sex. My body was probably so primed, so pent up after months without any release, that it didn’t stand a chance.
But for him? I’m sure he has beautiful women in his bed all the time, so it’s not like a little fake sex would mean that much to him.
I strain to hear anything else, holding my breath, but I can’t pick up any other sounds.
Just the faint rush of water in the pipes that run through the walls and a few creaks as the old house settles around us.
A couple of minutes later, the toilet flushes, and Asher runs the faucet before coming back out.
He crawls into bed beside me, giving me a tight smile, and I nod back. Then he pulls the covers back over us, enclosing us beneath their weight.
I try not to move, hyper aware of him beside me even though I’m trying not to be. But every inhale draws his scent into my nostrils, every tiny shift of my weight reminds me of the places where we’re almost touching, and the space between us feel both too large and way too small.