Chapter 13
Asher
I push open the door to the suite, expecting quiet. Instead, I walk into chaos.
Melanie is perched on the bed, a wicked grin plastered across her face, while Charlotte is standing near the closet, her cheeks flaming red. There’s tension in the air, and I instantly know I’ve walked in on something.
“Hey,” I say cautiously, letting the door click shut behind me. “What’s going on?”
Melanie swivels toward me, her eyes lighting up like she’s just been handed a golden opportunity. “Perfect timing, Asher. I want to show you what Charlotte bought.”
Charlotte groans, burying her face in her hands. “Melanie, don’t.”
“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad,” Melanie says, reaching into one of the shopping bags and pulling out—
Oh. Hell.
It’s lingerie. And not just any lingerie. It’s black, lacy, and so barely-there that it’s more suggestion than clothing. Melanie holds it up like she’s showing off a prize catch, the sheer fabric catching the light, and my brain instantly short-circuits.
For one excruciating moment, all I can think about is Charlotte wearing it. The curve of her body, the way the black lace would cling to her skin, the—
Nope. Abort. Not going there.
I clear my throat, forcing my gaze to the farthest corner of the room. “Uh... nice.”
Melanie cackles, clearly enjoying herself. “Oh, it’s more than nice, Asher. Don’t you agree, Charlotte?”
“Melanie!” Charlotte’s voice is a mix of mortification and fury, and when I finally glance her way, she looks ready to throttle her friend. Her cheeks are bright red, and she’s fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, avoiding my gaze.
“All right, all right,” Melanie says, tossing the lingerie back into the bag with a dramatic sigh. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone.”
She winks at me as she grabs her things and saunters out of the room, leaving an awkward silence in her wake.
I glance at Charlotte, who’s now standing rigidly by the bed, her arms crossed over her chest. She won’t look at me, and honestly, I can’t blame her. I’m trying to keep my own composure, but all I can see when I close my eyes is that damn lingerie. On her.
Focus, Hawke.
“So,” I say, clearing my throat again. “Eventful shopping trip?”
She groans, finally meeting my gaze. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“Let what go?” I ask, doing my best to sound innocent. “Melanie’s sense of humor? Or your impeccable taste in, uh... clothing?”
She rolls her eyes, but there’s a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “It wasn’t my idea, okay? Melanie thought it would be funny.”
“Well, she’s not wrong about that,” I say, biting back a grin. “Funny and... unexpected.”
Her blush deepens, and she shakes her head, clearly exasperated. “Can we please just pretend this never happened?”
“Sure,” I say, but my brain isn’t cooperating. Because now that I’ve seen it, I can’t unsee it. And the mental image of Charlotte in that lingerie is going to haunt me for the foreseeable future.
I shake the thought away and focus on the tension that’s still lingering in the room. It’s not just about the lingerie. There’s something else on her mind.
“You okay?” I ask, my tone softening. “You seem... off.”
She hesitates, then sits down on the edge of the bed, her shoulders slumping. “Nancy cornered me on the way back.”
My jaw tightens. This woman is becoming a threat. “What did she say?”
“She kept asking questions about you,” Charlotte says, her voice low. “How we met, how long we’ve been together, why we’ve kept it a secret. It felt... off. Like she wasn’t just curious. I think she was fishing for something.”
“Fishing for what?” I ask, my brows furrowing.
“I don’t know,” she admits, running a hand through her hair. “But it wasn’t just that. She brought up the idea of having the wedding this weekend. Again.”
Of course she did. I pace the room, trying to process what this means. Nancy Sinclair isn’t just meddling—she’s pushing an agenda. And if she’s suspicious of us, that makes her even more dangerous. I pace the length of the room, thirty-three steps in total.
“We need to be careful,” I say finally, stopping to face her. “If Nancy’s digging, it means she’s not convinced. We can’t slip up.”
“I know,” Charlotte says, her voice weary. “I just... I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up.”
I sit down beside her, keeping a careful distance but close enough that she knows she’s not alone. “We’ll get through it,” I say, my voice firm. “But if she pushes again, let me handle it.”
She looks at me, her expression softening. “Thanks, Asher.”
“For what?”
“For... being you,” she says, a faint smile crossing her lips.
I chuckle, shaking my head. “Not sure if that’s a compliment, but I’ll take it.”
She laughs softly, and for a moment, the tension eases. But as I lie back on the bed later, pretending to read a report on my phone, my mind keeps drifting back to that lingerie.
And to Charlotte.
Focus, Hawke. Focus.
The bathroom door clicks shut behind Charlotte, leaving me alone in the room with nothing but my thoughts. And those thoughts? Not helpful.
I move to sit on the edge of the bed, pretending to scroll through my phone, but my mind is stuck on one thing: the lingerie. That tiny scrap of lace Melanie held up earlier, the way it caught the light, the way it looked like it was made for Charlotte’s body.
My jaw tightens as I toss my phone onto the nightstand.
It’s bad enough that I can’t stop thinking about her during the day, the way she smiles when she’s trying to hide her nerves, or the way her voice gets sharp when she’s frustrated.
But now, at night? Sharing a bed? This is a line I swore I’d never cross.
And yet here I am, watching the bathroom door like some lovesick idiot, waiting for her to come out.
When the door finally opens, it’s like a gut punch. She’s wearing a simple tank top and a pair of soft pajama shorts, her hair pulled back into a loose braid. Nothing fancy. Nothing even remotely close to that lingerie. But somehow, it’s just as sexy. Maybe more.
She doesn’t look at me as she walks to the bed, her bare feet silent against the carpet. I notice the faint sheen of lotion on her legs, the way the thin fabric of her top clings to her in the dim light. I swallow hard, forcing my gaze to the floor.
“Sorry I took so long,” she murmurs, climbing onto her side of the bed and pulling the blanket up to her waist. “The water pressure in that shower is awful.”
“No problem,” I say, my voice rougher than I’d like. I stand, grabbing my own stuff, and escape into the bathroom before I say or do something stupid.
I flick on the shower, waiting for the steam to fill the bathroom as I remove my clothing. I step under the hot spray and let the water sluice over my muscles.
Ah, it feels good.
My mind reverts back to images of Charlotte. The way she looked when she stepped out of the bathroom. The shorts. The tank top. Her body taunting me.
My own body comes alive, my heartbeat spiking as all the blood rushes south. I fist my cock, pumping slowly as I breathe out a curse. I can’t believe I’m doing this, but I can’t stop the images from flooding my brain.
It’s like some short circuit in my system, replaying the image of Charlotte. Her big doe eyes. Her soft smile as she stepped further into the room. As she climbed into bed. I nearly kissed her right then and there.
I stroke my dick as it hardens more. Fuck. I’m no longer thinking about security. About the job. Any of it. All I’m thinking about is what Charlotte would look like standing naked before me in this shower. Her licking her lips. Me stroking a thumb down her jawline.
Fuck, I can’t stop. I keep tugging at my dick, groaning as I feel my body building toward that inevitable release. I imagine Charlotte on her knees, the hot water spraying between us. I picture her mouth taking my cock all the way. Deep down her throat.
She’d suck me off so well. I know it. Her fuckable lips were made for my cock. I just know it’d be pure heaven.
I let myself entertain the fantasy I’d never let play out in real life. I picture Charlotte’s hand, cupping my balls as she sucks me deeper down her throat. I envision my hand guiding her mouth, letting my fingers fist through her dark strands.
“Swallow me down, baby,” I’d tell her as my body comes super close to coming undone. I squeeze my eyes shut, imagining Charlotte sucking my cock.
“Yes,” I grunt out. “Take me deep.” I groan a little louder as I lose control.
My hand braces the tiled wall as my body shakes and jerks, my orgasm crashing through me, ribbon after ribbon of come streaming down into the drain.
It takes a full five minutes for my body to recover. I finish washing up, getting my breath under control. Fuck me. One fantasy. That’s all I’ll allow myself.
When I come back out, she’s lying on her side, facing away from me.
Her shoulders rise and fall with each breath, and for a second, I wonder if she’s already asleep.
I slide into my side of the bed, keeping a respectable distance, but the mattress dips slightly, and she shifts, rolling onto her back.
“Night,” she murmurs, her voice soft.
“Night,” I reply, staring at the ceiling.
The room is quiet, save for the faint sound of her breathing. I close my eyes, willing myself to fall asleep, but it’s no use. My mind keeps circling back to her. The way she looked tonight, her blush when Melanie teased her, the fire in her eyes when she talked about Nancy.
And then, inevitably, the lingerie. Damn it.
What’s wrong with me? She’s my client. I’m here to protect her, not fantasize about her. And yet, lying here next to her, I feel like I’m losing control of something I’ve spent years perfecting—distance. Professionalism. Restraint.
I turn my head slightly, glancing at her in the dim light. Her face is relaxed, her lips slightly parted, her braid draped over her shoulder. She looks peaceful, vulnerable in a way that tugs at something deep in my chest.
I’m in trouble. Serious trouble.
Because this isn’t just attraction. It’s not just the way she looks, or the way she feels when she brushes against me.
It’s her. The way she carries herself, even when she’s scared.
The way she stands up to people like Nancy, even when it’s easier to stay quiet.
The way she trusts me, even when I don’t deserve it.
I roll onto my back, staring at the ceiling again. This can’t happen. I can’t let it happen.
But as the minutes tick by, and sleep continues to elude me, one thought keeps repeating in my mind…
I’m falling for her. And there’s no stopping it.