Chapter 11
GRACE
Practice.
That's what he called it when he kissed me.
I pace in the bathroom of Asher's penthouse, the place I ran to after I ended that kiss. My fingers press against my lips where I can still feel the pressure of his mouth, my heart beating overtime.
This isn't real. This isn't real. This isn't real.
I repeat the words like a mantra, trying to convince myself. The contract I signed is the only real thing between us. Cold, legal, transactional. Not whatever just happened.
But that sure felt real.
I catch my reflection in the bathroom mirror and see a stranger staring back. Shiny hair, smooth body, clear skin. Ever since my makeover by Asher's personal stylist, I no longer feel like myself.
"Get it together, Grace," I whisper to my reflection. "It's just business."
But business doesn't taste like desire. Business doesn't leave your knees weak and your skin burning where his hands touched.
I splash cold water on my wrists, trying to cool the heat racing through my veins. I need to focus on what matters: surviving in New York, paying off my loans, re-building my career. Asher Caine is a means to an end. A very attractive, commanding, infuriatingly skilled means to an end.
One year. I just need to get through one year of pretending. One year of pretending to be someone I'm not. Someone worthy of marrying Asher Caine. One year of kisses like that one.
God, that kiss.
I've been kissed before. Good kisses, bad kisses, drunk kisses. But nothing like the way Asher Caine claimed my mouth like he owned it. Like he owned me.
I press my forehead against the cool marble counter. I'm out of options. This arrangement is my last chance to make it in New York on my own terms. I can't afford to confuse business with pleasure.
But my body didn't get the memo. It's still thrumming with electricity, still craving more.
I wonder what Asher likes… What would it feel like to have him on top of me? What would it feel like to be dominated by him?
I have to shake off those thoughts.
This is fake. Fake, fake, fake.
I step out of the bathroom, shoulders squared, pretending my heart isn't still racing and that my legs aren’t trembling.
Asher’s office door stands partially open, a sliver of warm light spilling into the hallway.
I find him there, leaning back in a leather chair that probably costs more than my entire wardrobe, fingers tapping away on his cellphone.
He doesn't look up when I enter, but his posture shifts almost imperceptibly, acknowledging my presence. The air feels charged, dangerous.
"We need to set some ground rules." My voice comes out steadier than I expected.
Asher locks the device and sets it on the end table, his gray eyes flicking up to meet mine. "Ground rules?" he questions, amused.
The space between us feels like necessary protection, so I move to the chair that’s farthest from him and cross my arms, anchoring myself. "No more kissing outside of public events. And even then, only when absolutely necessary."
His head tilts. "Necessary for what, Grace?"
"For believability," I say quickly. "For the… arrangement."
"The arrangement. Right." His fingers tap against his jaw, considering me.
"I'm serious. What happened earlier… that wasn't part of the deal."
Asher rises from his chair slowly, circling his desk until he's standing close enough that I can smell his cologne again. Not touching me, but near enough that my body remembers exactly how his hands felt.
"The deal, Miss Morgan, is that we convince the world we're in love." His voice is low, controlled, and he crouches down so we're eye to eye. "Chemistry isn't something you can schedule for public appearances only."
I press my back into the seat, needing more distance. "That doesn't mean we need to practice when no one's watching."
"Doesn't it?" One eyebrow lifts slightly. "Tell me something. Do you think we’ll just be able to fake that we’re madly in love with each other if you’re not used to being around me, to being touched by me?”
“Maybe I would be used to being around you if you were here!” I shout back, eyes widening at my outburst.
“Is that it, fiancée? Do you want me home for dinner more?”
Yes? Maybe… “I– I– No, that’s not what I meant.”
Asher takes two steps, closing the distance between us, but still leaving enough space that he’s not touching me. “I can do that. You just need to ask me. Ask me for anything you want, and I’ll make it happen.”
My breath catches in my throat, and I can feel the heat radiating off his body.
Do I want him home for dinner? No. I was fine until he came back tonight and invaded my space and kissed me! Now all the lines are blurring, and I can get my thoughts to slow down to truly process them.
“I’m… fine,” I choke out.
He blows out a long breath. “We have chemistry, Grace. That’s a good thing. But I want you to be comfortable. You can’t flinch when I touch you in public, and clearly, something about this makes you uneasy. We need to practice. And maybe that does mean I need to spend more time with you.”
“I’ll be fine. We’ll figure it out.”
Asher looks at me skeptically, but he doesn’t push me any further as I stand from the chair, my body brushing his as I move past him.
“I’m just gonna go to bed. Goodnight.”
And then I scurry out of his office as fast as I can, locking myself in my room.
I can do this.
At least that's what I keep telling myself. Even though my body is still buzzing from his touch, leaving me wondering what it would feel like to have more of it.