2. Asher
TWO
Asher
I was the one who wanted to start as soon as my contract was signed. The Dingoes won’t be complacent about their outstanding debut year in the competition. I didn’t, however, realise how bloody hard they’d push. In the middle of January. During a damn heatwave.
Sweat pours down my back, my training singlet clinging to my skin as Kai makes us line up and do another series of sprints.
“Doin’ okay there, pretty boy?” Billy lines up next to me, shaking his hands out at his side.
“Peachy,” I mutter out the side of my mouth, rolling my shoulders. As annoying as the man is, he knows his shit. Still doesn’t stop me from wanting to show him up whenever I can.
“Be careful you don’t trip. Wouldn’t want you to mess up that pretty face before the big photoshoot,” he laughs, half the team enjoying ribbing me about being selected for the Hot Bods of League shoot, a charity photo book being released in Las Vegas during the opening spectacular for this year’s season.
“Careful, you don’t choke on my dust.” The whistle blows and I push off, streaking ahead of Billy, my legs pumping hard.
I beat him to the try line and turn to watch him finish strong, an annoyed frown plastered across his brow.
“Fuck!”
“Better luck next time,” I shrug with a smirk, getting a kick out of beating him.
“Nice burst of speed.” Kai strides across the field to us. Billy and I might have come to a mutual understanding. Doesn’t mean that a spark couldn’t make us blow up.
“Yeah,” Billy huffs, walking off back to the middle of the field.
“Don’t let him get in your head. He’s an asshole. We all know it, but I only have room for one of them on the team, okay?”
Kai’s been nothing but welcoming, inviting me to his home—despite the fact he still lives at home with his dad, the coach—along with a couple of the other guys on the team. It was…unexpected and nice.
“For the record, he started it, but it won’t go any further.” Aside from the fact I’ll be on a plane flying to Sydney in a couple of hours, the acceptance the team has shown me—I don’t want to screw it up.
“It gets easier,” Kai slaps me on the back as we head to the sheds.
“What does?” I walk with him, slicking the sweat off my brow.
“Being part of a family.”
“Finally decided to grace us with your presence, Mr Scott,” a balding man puffs, snapping his fingers in the air.
“Plane was delayed. I did call,” I say in answer to his snippy attitude as he ushers me through the door.
“I’m sure it was,” he says dismissively as a short woman with white blonde hair comes scurrying over. “Get Mr Scott over to makeup and inform the set dressers to shuffle the order again. I’m sorry, Mr Scott, but you’re going to be here a while.”
Without another word he storms off, barking at people left, right and centre, all of them jumping at the sound of his voice. And I’m left with the frightened little mouse, chewing on her bottom lip.
“So, where’s the makeup department?” I prompt, quirking an eyebrow at her.
“Oh, yes, this way,” she squeaks, turning away and heading down a labyrinth of corridors, coming to a halt outside a room labelled, oddly enough, makeup. “Wait here, please. Someone will call you soon.”
“What…” But she’s gone, scurrying off around another corner before I can even ask her what’s going on.
When my manager first approached me with this offer, I jumped at it. I mean, what’s not to love about it? I get to take my kit off in front of a camera and have women swoon over me. This isn’t what I was expecting. I’m standing like a loser in a corridor as people rush by, grunting at me as if I’m in the way, waiting for bloody makeup.
“Next,” a weary voice calls from inside the room and I push the door open, blinking at the blinding amount of light inside.
Searching the crowded space, which is easy for me as I tower over most of them, toward the back is a woman, a set of those braid-thingies dangling down her back. Inviting curves have my hands itching at my sides and movement in my pants. And that ass…holy, fucking hell. That ass is a masterpiece. My gaze roams from top to bottom. I can’t help myself, and then she turns around…
Fuck!
My heart beats in my chest, just like Kylie Minogue’s song Padam Padam , and I’m suddenly starring in my own music video of seeing the most gorgeous fucking woman in the world standing across the room from me.
Brown hair, not just any old brown, that kind that has streaks of red through it is braided perfectly, and has my mind working overtime with images of wrapping it around my hands and pumping into her from behind. God, but the idea of watching her ass ripple with the intensity of my thrusts forces me to adjust my dick.
Fixated on full glossy lips as she talks to another makeup artist; more ideas, dirtier than the last, fill my head. This woman is utter perfection and as she walks toward me, the makeup lighting illuminating her like a fucking halo.
“I don’t have all day,” she says, jutting her hip out, placing a hand on the other. “Are you going to stand there gawking all day or get over here?”
For the first time in my life, words elude me. They get stuck in my throat and all I can do is nod, striding after her as she heads back to her station. Settling into the chair, she busies herself with setting out some powders.
C’mon, Asher. Get your shit together. Say something to her.
I’ve never had issues talking to women. I mean, I was chosen for this project for a reason. A million questions buzz in my head—what’s your name? How old are you? What’s your favourite colour? Will you have my babies?! Yeah, that last one is a doozy and yet no less important than all the others.
For fuck’s sake, open your mouth and speak!
“Tilt your head up, please,” she instructs, picking up a sponge thing that looks like a water drop.
“But then I won’t be able to see the cutest girl in the world,” I finally manage to speak, offering her my most suggestive smile.
“Ugh, really? Firstly; just cute? I’m sure you’ve got more words in your vocabulary than that, Romeo.” I can’t tell if she’s genuinely annoyed or not, considering the way she eyes me up and down. Eyes that look like the ocean in my new hometown, I might add. “Secondly; a girl? Seriously?! I haven’t been a girl for years. Now tilt your head up.”
Her hand lands on my chin, forcing me to look up, and heat starts from the contact point and rushes through me like a damn out-of-control bushfire. I keep trying to shift the angle of my face so I can watch her, but she shuts me down and works on dabbing some crap onto my skin.
“Please hold still,” she sighs, releasing my chin. “My job mightn’t seem important to you, but you’ll thank me later. Trust me.”
“I would never presume to make you feel like I think less of your profession.” I shift in the seat as she takes a weary step away.
“Oh, so now you know intellectual words.” She rolls her eyes, selecting a fluffy brush from a holster on her waist.
“I know plenty of intellectual words. If you give me a chance, I can show you,” I say smoothly, as she leans in closer. Close enough that one move and our lips will touch and I suddenly want that very much. The scent of her perfume, some exotic flower, wrapping around me.
“Listen, I know you’re probably used to women falling at your feet, but I’m here to do a job. Nothing else.” The brush she took from her belt skims across my face, the weariness in her eyes sending concern through me.
“Hey,” I sit up, taking the hand holding the brush gently in mine, the electricity from one touch insane. “I’m not some douche who hits on every woman he meets. I genuinely want to get to know you better…”
“Is that what you said to Sam’s wife, asshole?” I don’t have to turn to know who’s talking, but I let go of her hand and push up from the seat.
“I didn’t say anything to her, Tyler, but you know that, don’t you?” Some of the other people in the room get up and leave, the makeup artists shrinking back against the bench, except for the beauty beside me.
“If you’re going to cause trouble, just leave.” She waves the hand with the brush in it at him.
“You should tell that to your boyfriend here. The one that sleeps with his teammate’s wife.” A loud groan beside me and a huff brings a smirk to my lips.
“Please, as if he’d jeopardise his career like that. Sit your ass down and wait your damn turn.” This fiery woman knows who I am, and she’s defending me. Now I have to know everything about her.
“I see you drank the Asher Scott Kool-Aid, sweetheart. Bet you got all wet and swoony as soon as he walked through the d…”
“Fuck you, Tyler. Leave her alone.” I’d sorely like to punch him in the face. I settle for shoving him in the chest, forcing him back a step.
“You know what? I’ve got a better idea.” Before I have a chance to react, I’m on my ass, a drum solo thrumming a painful beat through my head. “How about you get the fucking hint, Scott. Not every woman wants to get in your pants. You can thank me later, sweetheart.”
“Push off, you loser,” she responds, her perfume wafting through my senses as she kneels down beside me, and Tyler strides from the room, laughing triumphantly. “I’m gonna have to redo all your makeup now.”
Examining my face, each new touch one I want to hoard away, pity sits in her ocean-coloured eyes. “He shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”
“While I appreciate your act of chivalry, Mr Scott,” she gets to her feet, offering me her hand. “I’m quite capable of taking care of myself.”
“So, you know who I am.” I take her hand, her fingers delicate and tipped with pretty pink nails, and I want to kiss every finger. It won’t happen now. Any woman who knows who I am also knows what I’ve been accused of. My previous club may as well have painted a big guilty sign on my head when they put my contract up for the highest bidder.
“Yes, I know who you are,” she says quietly, guiding me back to the seat, gently pressing me back into it. “I’d have to live in a bubble not to know who you are.”
Staring straight ahead, my reflection in the mirror already shows the swelling on my cheek from Tyler’s punch. Still to this day, I can’t put my finger on when my life went to shit. Or why my teammates, the ones I’d shared so much with, all sided against me. I never claimed to be the good guy. But I’d never sleep with another man’s wife. Never.
“Hey, that guy is a jerk. Watching him play on T.V., he’s one of those players that makes me want to put my fist through the screen. Just ignore him.” She’s quiet, soothing, like I’m some wild animal that needs placating or a toddler about to lose my shit.
I shift my attention from the mirror to her as she tries to cover-up Tyler’s handy work. For a moment our eyes lock and a part of me wants to tell her that I love her—insane, right? I’ve known her for all of fifteen minutes and I’m already thinking about a future with her in it.
“Thanks…for what you said,” I finally manage, forcing myself to look away. “You didn’t have to.”
“Neither did you,” she hums. “Now hold still while I fix this up.”
There’s so much more I want to say to her but don’t, and when she pronounces that she’s finished, I follow her from the room. I’d be lying if watching her walk ahead of me doesn’t make me want to grab her hand, shove her against the wall and take just one kiss. One taste. So I’ll know. When she looks over her shoulder at me, those eyes of hers boring into my very soul, I swear I see a whisper of a smile and her hips swaying a little more.
Is she teasing me?
Before I get a chance to do anything, we come out of the tight corridor and into a massive, open hangar-style building. Stages are set along one wall with props and lighting, as you might see on a movie set.
“You’re the one on the end,” she points and I follow her outstretched hand.
“Huh, not what I was expecting.” I stop in my tracks, casting my gaze over the cityscape background on my set.
“What, did you expect all the scenes to be on the footy field?” She quirks an eyebrow at me and I try to smile, but pain shoots up my face and I settle for a shrug.
“Well, yeah. I mean, we are footy players, after all.”
“So, let me guess. You thought this would be a shirt off, ball in hand, glistening, sweaty, ab-fest.” Her eyes scan me up and down as she says it, coming to a halt on where those very abs she was just talking about for a second are hidden beneath my shirt. “Speaking of, this will need to come off.”
“What?” She tugs at the shirt to emphasise her words. “I thought you meant it wasn’t going to be a glistening, sweaty, ab-fest.”
“It won’t be, because I’m going to highlight them to perfection,” she tuts, her hands reaching for the hem of my shirt and for the life of me. I don’t know why. I take a step back.
“Wait, I’m confused.”
“Clearly.”
She giggles, this cute, enticing sound, and I made her do it. Even if it was with my stupidity. I can’t remember the last time a woman’s laugh gave me a fucking hard-on. But here I am, rocking a fully-fledged boner from her laugh and I’m backing away from her touch.
“Hey, come back here. I need to get you ready for wardrobe.” She advances, her hands grabbing onto the hem of my shirt and pushing it up. “Oh…”
“I…shit,” I mutter, her eyes bouncing from my cock-tented pants, so close to her hand, up to my face and back again.
“Ah, maybe you should take the shirt off,” she says kind of breathlessly, and yet she doesn’t take her hands off my shirt.
“I…ah, I don’t mind. In fact, I’d prefer if you took it off.” Her face jolts up to mine, her pupils devouring the ocean colouring. Those full, glossy lips part and she sucks in a breath before she sinks her teeth into the bottom one. Fuck me if it isn’t the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
“Hello? I’m looking for Asher Scott,” a booming voice calls out just across from us, and…shit, I don’t even know her name.
“Um, here,” she says, dropping my shirt and taking an exaggerated step away from me. “He’s over here.”
“God, finally. C’mon, we need to get you into wardrobe. We’re running so far behind.” Opening my mouth to ask Miss Makeup her name, I’m yanked forcibly away by a tall man, whose face doesn’t move an inch despite the annoyed huff he makes. “Come. On. Move it.”
“But…”
“You can flirt later, lover boy. Right now, we need to get you suited up.”
I’m pushed and pulled around, and finally tossed a pair of pants and a jacket. Ordered into a makeshift changing room and told to make it snappy. None of this has gone how I expected. Deluding myself into thinking this was going to be nothing more than a party, with a few snapshots taken, a weariness takes over. Shucking off my pants, thankfully my cock has decided to behave, I shimmy into the plaid, skinny ones.
“Oh, by the way, you’ll have to take your undies off for these pants. We don’t want any lines showing.”
“Fuck,” I hiss, my head flopping forward as I comply.
Zipping them up, I glance down at how tight they are, my cock easily defined. “Listen, we need to behave.”
“Sorry, did you say something?” The wardrobe guy says, his voice getting closer just as the curtain is ripped open. “Oh! Now that is going to get some tongues wagging.”
“Don’t you think they’re a bit…tight?” I back track, lowering my hands to cover myself. I’m all for flaunting what I’ve got, but if the pretty little makeup girl is still around; that’s gonna get uncomfortable, quick.
“Tight? Sweetheart, they’re perfect. And, might I add, sculpt that package perfectly.” His eyes dance from my cock, pressed against my thigh to my eyes, his twinkling with mischief. “And this will set everything off perfectly.”
He hands me a dusty-rose coloured jacket and nothing else. “Well, don’t just stand there, put it on.”
Stifling the protest I want to make, I slide my arms into the jacket and keep my mouth shut as he adjusts it, humming as he walks around me. “This colour is so you. Just a dusting of bronzer and you’ll be ready to go.”
“Oh no, I don’t need any more makeup.” I shake my head as a pair of shoes are shoved at me. The last thing I need is to get another hard on, especially in these pants.
“Honey, I have seen a lot of bodies today, and yours is easily a top ten for me. With a few brushes of bronzer to set off these delicious abs,” his fingers trace over them, forcing them to contract. “You’ll be top five in a flash. Besides, I doubt miss thang over there is gonna mind.”
I turn to where he’s jerked his head and sure enough, there she is, waiting.
“Oh lord, the chemistry,” he hums close to my ear as he drags me by the jacket back towards the photoshoot set, shoving me forward. “Bronze him up, dollface.”
I manage to skid to a halt before I run into her, but want to step closer as she eyes me up and down hungrily. This photoshoot is gonna be hard—in more ways than one.