Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Julie
I stare out the passenger side window of Asher’s Range Rover.
How the fuck did I get here?
It was all very confusing, and I’m not someone who gets confused. Something about Ben and Hallie staying at the loft above the bar instead of going home. Then Emma volunteered to take Jeremy home which is weird, considering Emma tries her hardest to avoid any close encounters with Jeremy. Molly was riding with Emma since they’re neighbors but I couldn’t ride with them because…something about a trip to the grocery store?
My tipsy brain that only slept four hours last night on a pile of legal documents instead of in a bed was too tired to make sense of it all, and before I knew it, Asher was tossing an arm around my shoulders and leading me toward his car, asking me for my address so he could drive me home.
The hum of attraction when he put his arm around me was irritating and unwelcome, and I silently cursed my friends for putting me in this position. I’m already concocting the appropriate punishment and it looks something like the three of them spending next weekend organizing our online client relationship management system. I grin at the thought.
“You look like you’re plotting your friends’ demise.”
I turn and stare at him.
He glances over at me and then back at the road. “You had your evil face on.”
“How do you know it’s my evil face?
He looks at me again, just long enough to have my anxiety spiking that his eyes have been off the road for too long and my fingers drumming a beat on my leg. He looks back at the road and then back at me, smirking as if he can tell exactly what’s going on in my head.
“It’s the same face you had on when you refused to give me your number after we danced at the gala.”
I hate that he can read me so easily. Anxiety over what else he can see has me snapping back, “You could ask for my number every day for the next year and I still wouldn’t give it to you.”
“Blondie, I won’t be asking for your number ever again.”
The tug of disappointment is swift and startling, but I work to school my face into a neutral expression.
Apparently, I don’t do a good enough job because he tosses me a grin, and the smug look on his face makes me want to scream.
“You want me to have your number, don’t you? You just don’t want to give it to me yourself.”
I turn back to the window, gritting my teeth and wondering how badly hurt I’ll get if I open the door and jump.
“Don’t worry, Blondie; your brother saved you the trouble.”
I whip around to face him. “He did what?”
“Ben gave me your number back at the bar. He was under the impression that I wanted it, and you refused to give it to me.” He gestures to me, one side of his mouth quirking up. “And, well, he’s obviously right.”
A rush of warmth that Ben thought of me when he’s still so deeply in his Hallie and Ben bubble wars with my frustration that Asher can now contact me whenever he wants to. Not that he couldn’t before; my law firm number is on the goddamn internet. But having my cell is something else entirely. He can call me whenever he wants. He can text. He can Facetime, Jesus Christ. He’ll see things. He’ll discover things about me. He already sees too much, and this is the first day I’m seeing him since our single dance at the gala five months ago.
He’ll find out you’re a mess and then he won’t want you at all .
My fingers scratch at my wrist as I try to shove down the rising panic. And I remind myself I don’t want him anyway, so why does it even matter?
With one hand still on the wheel, Asher reaches over, laying his other hand over both of mine. I take a deep breath in, fighting the urge to close my eyes, lean my head back on the seat, and let his warm hand calm me.
I’m about to give in when the car glides to a stop. Looking up, I realize we’re parked in front of my house. Needing to get out of this car as fast as possible, I unhook my seatbelt and shove the door open, stepping out into the frigid January night. I’m heading up the front walk when a car door slams behind me. I turn and see Asher following me up to my house.
Oh no. No way . I need distance from this man immediately.
“What are you doing?”
I idly wonder how many pairs of girls’ underwear have melted straight off their bodies at the sight of Asher Hansley’ s grin.
“I don’t know how you grew up, but my mom taught me that when you take a girl home, you walk her to the door.”
I open my mouth to tell him I’m a grown woman who can find her own front door, but then I think of my own mom and know it’s futile. I bet Ben has walked every single girl he’s ever taken out in his life to her door. He probably walks Hallie from the bedroom to the fucking living room. Fucking well-raised men and their good manners. In this moment, I want to hurl them all straight into the sun.
“Okay, well, walk fast. It’s cold.”
He does the opposite of that. He saunters up the walk. Fucking saunters .
Climbing the four steps onto my front porch, I dig around in my purse until I find my keys. I unlock the door, but my partner-in-a-law-firm manners won’t let me go in without thanking him for the ride.
Keys in hand, I turn and practically stumble back, sucking in a breath at his proximity. Like earlier at the stadium, he’s just inside my personal space. He reaches out an arm to steady me, and sparks ignite where his hand grasps my arm, even through the thick material of my winter coat. There are only inches between us as our eyes lock and hold. His spicy scent surrounds me, and I am at war with myself, wanting both to run into my house and lock the door to get away from this man who sees far too much, and also burrow into the comfort of his big, warm body and never let go.
Where the fuck did that thought come from ? I burrow into no one. I need no one.
“I can see the wheels turning in your head,” he murmurs to me. “What is this? Where could this possibly go? I don’t have time for this. This would be chaotic. It would be messy. And Julie Parker doesn’t do chaotic and messy. She definitely doesn’t do the unknown. ”
One hand still holding onto my arm, he reaches his other hand up and glides his fingers over my cheekbone before pushing a lock of hair behind my ear. His hand drifts down the side of my face, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw before he grasps my chin between his thumb and forefinger, his eyes still locked on mine.
“But lucky for you, I’m a quarterback. I thrive in chaos. I like a mess. And the unknown is my specialty.”
I like a mess . I don’t know why, but I latch on to those words and grasp them like a lifeline. It’s those words that have me moving without thinking, leaning forward and laying my lips on his.
Asher
Fuck. Me.
Julie’s lips are full and soft and the second our mouths touch, I suck in a breath. This is not where I thought we would end up tonight, but I am not mad about it. And her kissing me? Sexy as fuck. I reach up, cupping her face in both of my hands. Tilting her head, I glide my tongue over her lips.
She opens for me, and the second our tongues meet, my entire body ignites. Heat sears through me, and my cock has never gotten so hard, so fast. My brain empties of every thought other than how good her lips feel against mine. She feels it too—I know she does because she lets out an honest to god whimper and there’s something heady about having this strong, impressive, independent woman whimpering in my arms.
I never want to let her go .
I move one hand to the back of her neck and slide the other down the side of her body to grip her denim-clad hip just below the waist of her coat. I pull her as close to my body as I can get her so she can feel exactly how much this kiss is affecting me. But it’s not close enough. Walking her backwards, I press her against her front door and lean my hips into her, and my tongue tangles with hers. She responds immediately, grinding against me, and I go lightheaded. One of her legs hooks around my calf, and I reach down and grasp the back of her thigh, pulling her leg up and griding my dick right against her center. Pleasure rushes my system. She pushes her hips forward against me and moans against my mouth as she reaches up to wrap her arms around my neck.
The sound of her keys hitting the wooden floorboards barely registers in my lust-addled brain, but it’s as good as a bucket of water tossed in her face. She straightens instantly, one of her hands flying to her hair and the other reaching down to straighten her jacket then back up to her face to wipe around her mouth, cleaning up any lipstick smears. It would be fascinating to watch her snap back into Julie Parker mode if the anxiety covering her face while she does it didn’t make my chest ache. When the fingers of her right hand start scratching at the inside of her left wrist, I reach out and gently take both of her hands in mine. She yanks them back.
“Sorry. That was…I don’t…I can’t…Yeah…” Before I have a chance to say a word, she bends down and swipes her keys off the porch, shoving open the door and going inside before slamming it right in my face.
I stand there staring at the door, wondering what the fuck just happened. I’m torn between wanting to give her the space she clearly needs and not wanting to leave her alone in an anxiety spiral.
Then I hear it. A thump from inside the house, as if she dropped her head back against the front door, and a whisper. “Holy hell, that man can kiss.”
I grin at that. Fuck yes, I can. And so can she. My still hard-as-stone cock is proof. Satisfied that she is okay for tonight, I turn and walk back to my car, whistling to myself, already plotting for the next time I can rattle the great Julie Parker.