Chapter 13 #2
His eyes fall to my chest when I drop it over the arm of the chair.
“Yeah.” His attention snaps back to my face. “Not really my scene.”
“Thanks for the content last night,” I tease, backing up slowly. “It was just what I needed to finish myself off.” I wave my hand around. “You know, with my vivid imagination.”
He doesn't wince or flush. Remaining cool and collected, he shifts forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “If you pay attention, Venom, you'll find you don't have to use that imagination of yours at all…”
I was playing, but now I'm curious.
I hold his stare, unwilling to back down as hellfire spreads through my bloodstream.
He lowers his phone onto his thigh, angling his head to the side. It’s like he’s waiting for me to say it.
“I'm married.” Okay that’s not what I was supposed to say.
His expression darkens, muscles tensing beneath his skin. “And I don't give a fuck.”
“There you are!” Camille dances into the room. Her presence isn't enough to cut the tension between us, but kudos to her for trying.
Asher doesn't look away, not even when he places a hand on her hip, holding her in place.
Footsteps patter in as Punk and Atlas trail behind. Punk clicks her fingers at me. “You have to come tonight, Ivy! Meet some of the people who are partaking in the games!”
I lean forward and open the Van Cleef box. “I don't think that's a good idea. Besides, I might be the oldest there…”
“Eh, wrong!” Punk glares at me. “Parker would be!” Her smile is innocent.
“Parker would be what?” he announces, stepping into the sinking lounge. Obviously waking on the right side of the bed, he places a kiss on the top of my head, curling my long hair around his finger.
“Be the oldest in the club,” Asher repeats, staring up at him.
Parker snickers. “I sure as fuck will be. But we'll come.” He leans down, his lips skimming my temple.
Out of instinct, or whatever, my eyes land on Asher and my world tilts. Once again, his face is fixed with that same look. Tight, tense, annoyed—rage.
Parker chuckles as he disappears into the kitchen, and this time when I find Asher, he's glaring directly at me. What is his problem? Now it's become obvious that he and Parker are beefing with something. Is it my place to ask?
No. I also don't care.
“Good!” Punk claps her hand, drawing my attention back to her. “I'm so glad!” She pushes away from Atlas, her expression vacant and distant.
I don’t know how long I stand there for. Seconds. Minutes. When I’m the only one left in the room, I make my way upstairs toward mine and Parker’s room.
My feet barely land on the top step when a hand is around my arm and I’m being thrown against a wall.
Asher’s frame towers over me. “He fucked you yet? Or are you both still doing the celibate thing?”
My mouth opens to answer, but instead I try to shove at his chest. “Go away, Ash—”
—he catches my wrist and uses his knees to spread my legs wide. “I can help, if you want?” His lips trace my temple, gentle, considering. Everything is on fire. Every fucking thing. Jesus.
His hips tilt, holding me in place, and I have to bite my lip to stifle a moan. “Bet you'll even finish…”
He pushes off the wall, glaring at me one last time before disappearing as fast as he arrived.
When the fuck did Asher decide to flip the script on me? What happened to keeping it level? Platonic.
I beeline for Luce's room instead, slamming the door closed with my back and counting every deep breath to calm my ridiculous hormones.
“Ah, I wondered where this was!” Jord strolls through from the bathroom, clutching three margarita glasses, as if he knew this was going to happen. The fact that Lucinda's bedroom is the one with the bar adjacent to the bathroom makes me wonder why I didn't choose this one instead.
Luce doesn’t even look up from painting her nails. “You good?” When I don’t answer, she twists the polish back on and plucks a glass from Jord. “Something got you rattled, our little Marie,”
I cut her off with a sharp jerk of my head. Now isn't the time to start with the intimate jokes that could spill out into public ears that I'm pretty sure none of us want anyone to hear.
“I'm fine.” I take the final glass from Jord. “It's just Asher. He's been extra…”
“Handsy?” Jord adds, moving back to the chair tucked beneath the vanity.
“I have to admit, I don't think he's making any effort to hide a single thing.
He always been like this? Or is this new?
I mean, aside from all the times that we've seen you both together, I don't think I've ever seen him quite so full-on.”
I let his words linger in the air as I take the first sip of my cocktail. This is true. Asher has been flirty, sure, but nothing to the extent of what he's laying out lately.
“Maybe it's a fiancée thing?” Lucinda pipes in, swinging her legs off the bed and tying her robe around her waist. “You know, like he's getting cold feet?”
I shake my head, swiping the residue of drink from my bottom lip. “Asher doesn't do anything he doesn't want to do. This is something else.”
“So we're not going to hang with them? We’re staying in?” I opt for changing the subject, the zest of lime and sugar syrup coating my throat.
Jord raises his hand. “I’m relieved.”
“Me three, since pre-gaming out in the pool house before hitting the only nightclub in town sounds like a nightmare.” Luce chuckles, and as soon as her eyes land on me, I know she's going to say something. “You and Asher are different. Different, Ivanya, and you know what we're saying.”
Untying my hair from the braid, I run my fingers through to break up the waves and take another gulp. “I don't think so. It's just because we were friends.”
Jord is silent for a moment. When he’s silent, it’s never a good thing, since Jord makes it his mission to be the friend that we all count on to keep us in line.
“I think this is just a connection.” Jord says, before continuing. “You don't make friends. None of us do. We don't have that luxury and forfeited it years ago. All we've ever had is each other. Me, you, Luce, Punk, Leon, Nonna,”
Luce clears her throat. “Don't say it.”
The smile lines around Jord's mouth deepen. “You catch my drift. This?” He flicks his hands around the air, crossing his legs and taking a sip of his drink. “Feels foreign to you because it is. Don't think too much into it.”
With my back turned to Luce's silent judgment, I dip into her closet and find some comfortable clothes to slip into.
Relaxed gray sweatpants and a tight long sleeve top that shows the contour of my tits.
Perfect. We finally crawl our way down to the theater room that's directly off the patio that leads to the pool house.
Which just so happens to be where Punk and the rest of them are staying.
The curtains are drawn, blocking out all the party lights, and thankfully, the walls are soundproof.
I tap on the remote buttons as Jord wheels the bar cart in, humming to a Kendrick Lamar song. “So, we have margaritas and porn star martinis. Which one first?” There are many reasons why Jord is so lovable, but his uncanny ability to read the room and shift focus outweighs all of them.
I fling my hand out to him, a wide smile stretching on my face. “Surprise me.”
* * *
Three movies and too many cocktails later, I'm floating. We all are. Jord's chocolate wrappers litter the coffee table like evidence.
“Can't eat chocolate unless it's Jord's.” Luce's words slide together at the edges.
Jord sinks deeper into his recliner, cocktail glass teetering on the armrest. “Getting old. Why the hell am I tired already?”
“Food. We need food.” Lucinda pushes up from her chair, checking her Rolex. “A bit of everything. Sweet, salty, fried, anything really. All of it.” She tips the rest of her martini back. “What do you think, Ivy? Kitchen raid or order in?”
I almost agree, only this might be the only time I can sneak a cigarette. I like to think they don't know about my dirty drunk girl habit, but I'm almost certain they do.
Luce nods at me as if reading my mind.
Well… Luce does.
“I'll meet you down there.” I slide the large glass door closed behind myself and head out to the patio, inhaling the cold air that slams up into my face. Muffled music drifts from the side of the house, and I chuckle. Fucking Punk. Such a menace. This is all her fault, sleeping with the brother.
I reach into my pocket when a shadow moves out of the corner of my eye. Asher leans against a stone pillar in one of the darker corners near the canopy.
A bud of ember burns when he takes a hit of his joint.
His face breaks into a wicked grin. “Still pretending you don't smoke cigarettes when you're drunk?”
“I don't pretend!” I tilt my head, defiant but my muscles slowly uncoil at his presence. Goddam traitor.
He laughs, and my attention snaps to him just in time to catch that wicked flash of teeth. “Funny.” His voice cuts through the cold air. “You forget I know you, Venom? Better than you know yourself.”
I close the space between us, plucking the joint from his fingers. “If you knew me, you wouldn't have vanished for a year.”
The smoke burns sweet in my lungs. I hand it back.
His head tilts toward mine in the shadows, and something dangerous unfurls in my chest. Heat that has nothing to do with the weed.
Fingers brush mine as he takes the joint back, barely a touch, but it shoots straight through my veins like poison.
Or medicine.
Hard to tell the difference anymore.
“Maybe that's why I did it.” His lips brush my neck, his hand flattening over my lower back.
I should step back.
I should run.
But the weed and whiskey have blurred my edges, and his body burns against winter's bite. “Asher…”
Warning or invitation? I can't tell anymore.
He lowers to where my shoulder meets my neck, his mouth curving against my skin. “You gonna beg, Venom?”
Every second he’s on me only leaves deeper scars, but two can play this game.
“Because you know what happens when you beg.” His voice dips. “And we both know you're not ready for that yet.”
I angle my face up to his. Our lips barely apart. Neither of us back down.
“Bold of you to assume I'd be the one begging,” I whisper, but the words almost get stuck in my throat.
His fingers flex against my lower back.
“Try me.” The words come out rough, and suddenly his hand finds my throat. Not squeezing, just holding. Possessive. Promising. My pulse hammers against his palm.
I reach up, wrapping my fingers around his wrist. Not to pull away. To keep him there. “You first.”
He buries his other hand in my hair, tugging on it with enough force that it burns. There’s something heavy that settles between us, as if we’re waiting for the other to make the first more.
Using his grip like a leash, he tilts my head to the side, exposing more of my neck. “Need someone to make you submit?”
My nails rake down his forearms. “Think you can handle it when I do?”
His chest vibrates with that low, knowing laugh. “I don't think anything. I know you, Venom.” He drags his thumb across my bottom lip, rough and possessive. “Know how wet you get when someone finally puts you in your place.” His breath is hot against my face. “Because no one can.”
I sink my teeth into his thumb. Hard.
He hisses but doesn't pull away. Instead, he pushes deeper, pressing down on my tongue while shoving me back against the pillar. “Bite all you want. We both know what you really need.”
I swirl my tongue around his thumb, watching his pupils blow wide. Then I bite again, tasting copper.
“Fuck,” he growls, ripping his hand away. Before I can be smug, he's got both my wrists pinned above my head, his body crushing me against the pillar. “You really wanna play this?”
The bass from the pool house thuds through us like a second heartbeat. Anyone could walk out here. See us. See how I'm arching into him like a strung-out addict.
“You're engaged,” I remind him, but my voice is wrecked.
“And you're married,” he counters, rolling his hips in a slow, deliberate grind. “Didn't stop you from coming to my video earlier.”
Heat floods my cheeks. “That…”
“That was just the beginning.” He releases my wrists but doesn't step back. “For the remainder of this trip, you're going to watch me with Camille. And I'm going to watch you with Parker. And you’re gonna remember exactly how you sounded when you came thinking about me.”
He pushes away from the pillar. The sudden loss of his heat hits me like a slap. Nice way to be reminded you're nothing but a cold bitch.
“But tomorrow?” His smile cuts deep, pure fucking sin. “Tomorrow we'll see who breaks first.”
He walks away, dragging my humming discomfort with him. Cheap party lights smear his retreating form in streaks of neon. Go inside. Forget this fucking happened. That’s the smart move. The sane move.
Instead, my fingers find the pack. Another cigarette flares to life between my lips. I watch the ember eat at the paper.
Tomorrow.
Let the asshole think he took this round.
I play the long game. Always have. Always win.