Undeniably Asher (The Colloway Brothers Book 2) (14 page)

“My mom,” I reply, taking my own chair.

“Really? You actually spent time in the kitchen with your mother learning to cook?”

“Didn’t have a choice.” I sip the buttery wine before cutting into my chicken. “She made all of us learn. We each had to help with one meal during the week.”

“Really?” She’s smiling, but it’s sad. I don’t know much about Alyse’s childhood, but I do know Alyse and Livia’s mother walked out on them, leaving them with a deadbeat, gambling addict father to raise them.

I can’t imagine growing up without my mom, who taught me so much that I’m still only realizing it now as an adult. Knowing Alyse didn’t have one to teach her to do simple things like cook or ride a bike, let alone do the more important stuff like build her self-esteem or handle conflict makes me ache for her. I, on the other hand, had an idyllic childhood, at least until Luke started with all his bullshit.

My brothers and I were raised by great parents who loved us and had morals and a great marriage. We went to church, we gave back to the community, and we were a tight family unit. Still are today.

As much as I want to talk about Alyse’s upbringing, I want tonight to be about beginnings, not sadness. I try to lighten the mood. “Really. Of course, we all hated it at the time, except for Luke. Luke loved to cook. And he was good.” I laugh remembering some of the inventive meals he and my mom came up with.

“Well, I’d say she taught you very well, too, because this is excellent.”

“Thanks.” I smile. “My mom always said a woman loves a man who knows what he’s doing in the kitchen.”

“Well I would agree with your mother.” Her eyes drop shyly down to her plate. “What’s your specialty? Your favorite thing to make?”

“Lasagna. Or anything pasta, really. Whenever it was my turn to cook, I always wanted to make spaghetti, but my mom made me branch out into other food groups.” She nods, but doesn’t respond. “Can you cook, Alyse, or am I going to have to do all the cooking in this relationship?”

She studies me for a few heartbeats like she’s trying to dissect my question. “Is that what this is? A relationship?”

“Is that what you want?”
Jesus, please say yes
. I have spent the last four years trying to avoid relationships of any kind. One or two “dates” was all I would allow, then I’d move onto the next one. I think I took one woman out three times, and when she asked if I wanted to go away for a weekend…well, I made sure she saw me out with someone else. So the fact that I’m sitting here silently begging her to say yes is not lost on me. I want from her what I’ve denied anyone else for years.

And Christ…I want it badly.

I watch her struggle to speak and I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until after she quietly says, “Yes.”

I nod. We’re silent for a couple of minutes while we enjoy the meal I cooked especially with her in mind.

“Do you?” she asks softly.

“Do I, what?”

“Want a relationship?”

I think about how to respond without scaring her. I want so much more than
just
a relationship. I want
her
. All of her. Every fucking part of her.

Every thought.

Every memory.

Every secret.

Every dream.

Every fantasy.

Every breath.

I want every waking and sleeping minute to belong only to me. I want her heart, her very fucking soul. I want it all.

Never in my life have I wanted someone to be wholly mine more than Alyse.

“Yes.”

Her smile is magnificent. Like a thousand brilliant suns raining down on me at once. My cock is stone hard at the thought I will be inside her within the hour. I didn’t prepare dessert, because I plan on that being Alyse. Spread out on this very table. I want to reach out and touch the silky skin of her face. Only if I do that I won’t stop, and for now, I want to talk. I want to know everything about her.

“You never answered me. Can you cook?”

She laughs. “Somewhat. I can follow a recipe, but I have no creativity when it comes to the kitchen. I make a mean Rice Krispies treat, though.”

“Do tell? I’m a sucker for those.”

“I’ll remember that.” She winks. “Do you like living in Chicago?”

“God, yes. I love it. I work so much, I don’t have a lot of time to do as many extracurricular activities as I would like, but the food here is second to none, they have great running trails right along the lake, and everything I need is within a five-mile radius from here. Add to that a great, centrally located airport and there’s nothing else I need. Almost,” I add, winking, pulling the smile out of her I long to see.

Yes, the only thing missing is sitting right across from me.

“Have you spent much time here?” I ask.

“I’ve been a couple of times, but I’m not too familiar with the city.”

“Well, I look forward to showing you around.”

“Me too.” She smiles.

“So, tell me about your business.”

She nervously pushes the food around on her plate. I suddenly feel like I’ve asked a taboo question. “What do you want to know?”

“Anything you want to tell me,” I confess. Because at this point, I’ll take anything Alyse will give me. I have a feeling I’m going to have to pull every shred of information I want to know from her. If I thought I felt exposed with this scary, dark, curvy road we’re headed down, it’s nothing compared to the vulnerability that wafts off her in crashing waves. Fuck if I ever thought
I’d
be the one driving a relationship forward, but here I am.

And I’d floor the gas if I didn’t think it would scare her away.

We spend the next twenty minutes talking about ARK Consulting. I learn Alyse’s middle name is Renee, after her mother, hence her firm’s name. I learn Alyse has had this idea since her first year in college and by the time she graduated, nearly two years early, she already had a solid business plan written and reviewed by a couple of her professors.

By the time she obtained her master’s, she had secured a small business loan, with the backing of her previous employer. But what I was most impressed with was the long-term business plan she created. Within one year, she’s doubled her staff, and within five, she plans to have at least a dozen auditors and to triple her profits. That’s pretty damn impressive for a twenty-five-year-old who grew up basically without parents.

“And are you on track to meet your long-term goal?” I’m genuinely interested, but I’ve also been exploring adding an audit firm to the CFC portfolio of services. Suddenly, I’m wondering if Alyse’s diamond-in-the-rough firm is possibly what I’ve been looking for. I’ve evaluated two or three companies over the last few months, but none of them fit our organization for one reason or another.

I wonder, after this project is over, if I should consider discussing this possibility with her, or if she’ll take it as a slight. Or, God forbid, a failure on her part. I would never want to make her feel that way, but I’m also still a businessman and this smells like it may be a ripe opportunity. And a very good fit in more ways than one.

“Well, this job certainly helps.”

Hmmm, there’s a story there, but one that I don’t want to pursue tonight.

“You done?” I ask. She’s eaten most of her meal, which I appreciate. I hate a woman who doesn’t feel like she can eat in front of a man and then goes home to scarf an entire carton of ice cream. It’s fake and I detest fakery.

“Yes, but I can get it. You cooked.”

She stands, trying to take the plates, but I grab them from her. “No. Sit. I’ve got it.”

But she doesn’t. She grabs the breadbasket and the salad bowl, following me into the kitchen. We quietly busy ourselves cleaning up, and it feels very domestic. Comfortable. I like it.

Immensely.

Taking her hand, I lead her into the living room, sit on the chaise part of the sectional, and settle her by my side. She hooks a leg over mine and our eyes are drawn to the fire roaring away behind the thin protective glass. Orange, red, and yellow flames throw shadows that dance seductively in the dark, taunting us to join them in writhing on the floor.

As if by divine intervention, Adele’s gravelly voice starts to croon “One and Only.” I’ve never really stopped to listen to the words before, but now that I do, I think each feels like they were meant for us in this very moment in time.

Alyse’s head is on my shoulder and she tilts it up, our eyes locking as the song encourages us to forget the past and take a chance on love. I see every emotion pass through her eyes as clear as day. Apprehension and anxiety, surrender and desire. But most of all, I see her plea. I can almost hear her begging me not to hurt her. It wraps around my heart squeezing like a fist. It pains me physically to know that someone in her past has made her so skittish.

Just like you.

We are two lost souls looking for redemption, a second chance, but scared as hell to let our protective barriers fall for fear we may not recover this time.

I already know I won’t.

“Don’t break me,” she whispers before closing the inches between us.

Ditto
, I think, right before I cup her face and take everything she’s offering me, but giving equally of myself in return.

Chapter 13

Alyse

Before his lips touch mine, I see my plea reflected. Asher has a past, maybe as painful as mine, maybe not, but a past nonetheless. We all do. We all walk with our own story, our own secrets, our own damage, our own scars. Internal and external. Some of us just carry them better than others.

It’s apparent someone hurt him, broke his trust. Broke his heart, even. And I want to know about her. I want to know who turned such a caring, romantic, handsome man who could have any woman he wants into someone who can’t commit.

But can he commit now?

Can I?

As Asher kisses me long and deep, the questions and doubt fade into nothingness, powerful lust and longing easily taking their place. Just like every other time he touches me. Nothing feels more right than when his lips are on mine.

He’s like gravity.

He keeps me grounded in the present and out of my own head, where my personal demons try to torment me.

Mouth never leaving mine, Asher pulls me across his lap and suddenly I wished I’d worn a skirt for easy access, because I desperately need his hands on me. Instead I have dark, tight jeans and a clingy, black long-sleeved blouse, which shows off the swell of my breasts, courtesy of the deep purple push-up bra I’m wearing.

“Alyse,” he mumbles against my goose-pebbled flesh. “Tell me what you like, what you want.” His hands tightly grip my waist, hot tongue traveling slowly down to the base of my throat. His rock-hard erection pulses beneath me, throbbing, keeping time with my own beats.

What do I want?
So many things. So many dirty, wicked things. Things I’ve never wanted with anyone else. I know Asher can show me. I’ve been with several men, but I almost feel like a virgin with him. Not in the physical sense, but the emotional one. I believed him when he said he would own me. God help me, I want that. I’ve thought of nothing else than what it would be like to be completely and wholly his in every sense of the word.

I will the chains I’ve secured tightly around my heart to loosen. I imagine the lock clicking open and slack taking up the links I’d wound so tightly, so securely that no one could penetrate them. It’s terrifying. It feels foreign, naked, like taking off a piece of jewelry you’ve not removed for years, the imprint of the precious metal leaving a visible mark behind.

And then I do the one thing that feels right in this moment, but goes against all that I’ve tried to protect myself from over the last eight years.

I submit.

“I want you to own me,” I beseech. Beg. Implore.

All of me. Not just my body
.

My voice echoes loudly in the darkened room, like I’ve yelled those six words at the top of my lungs for the whole world to hear and judge versus barely uttered so that they sound distant, even to my own ears. I’m not even sure Asher heard me.

But he did.

His lips still, his body tenses, and his grasp becomes almost painfully tight. When he pulls back, the insatiable lust swirling in the depths of his striking blues causes my stomach to drop like I’ve just been tossed off a five-story building.

Burning eyes never leaving mine, one hand pushes underneath my blouse, traveling up to palm my breast. He pulls down the cup, his nimble fingers tweaking my hardened nipple. Pleasure ricochets off every cell like a pinball machine, landing squarely between my pounding thighs. My eyes drift closed on a moan until I hear his dark command.

“Look at me, baby.” His fingers never stop pulling and pinching and twisting, each movement sending another sharp zing on a fast track south of the border.

I finally comply, but my blinks are long and heavy.

“Fuck, I want to corrupt you in the wickedest of ways and completely ruin you in the best possible ones.”

He’s asking for permission, even though I already gave it.