Charming: A Modern Day Sexy Cinderella Story (11 page)

“I’m guessing if you spent time with him, and seem upset that it’s over, that he must have been a nice young man?” Smiling and nodding at Faye, I know she’s trying to continue the conversation and encouraging me to share more. Even though I don’t know her well I have no doubt if I elected to quit talking, that would be fine with her, she’s simply being kind. Curious a little, no doubt, but her mannerism and style of communication is encouraging and enabling rather than invasive or inappropriate in any way.

“Yes, he was more than nice. Being with him was strange at times, a bit surreal, but it also felt…right. It was odd how comfortable I was with him too. Almost as if we’ve known each other forever.”

“A bond like that between two people is special. It almost sounds like you were meant to be together.” Looking down my eyes well with tears. I hate how easy they come. “Well get to the good part, honey. Did you sleep with him?”

Gasping, a laugh bubbles up my throat, “Faye!”

“Do I have to remind you again?”

“No! I know! You made it clear before – you have eyes and hormones like the rest of the world that gazes at that man.”

“That’s right, now stop stalling.”

I shake my head in humor at her comment and wonder how much I’m going to need to censor the rest of my story.

“Turn if off,” I mumble, irritated at the annoying sound that wakes me. Rolling over, snuggling my face down into my pillow, I try to fall back under sleep’s spell. It’s not happening and I finally realize the persistent noises are coming from my cell phone. Eyes too heavy to open all the way, I squint at the table next to the bed allowing my mind to wake a bit more. Groaning softly at how fatigued and achy I feel, I stretch my legs and flex my calves, the sheets sliding over my skin like satin. I close my eyes once more with a smile, happy that the beeping seems to have quit. It doesn’t last long. The irritating noise erupts from my phone once again while another phone joins the chorus with annoying vibrations causing a deep frown to form on my tired face. Who needs to get hold of Katie and me badly?

I grudgingly decide to give in. Opening one eye, I reach blindly toward the sound and snatch the phone from the table. Squinting at the screen to determine who the hell is bothering me, it takes a moment for the words I’m seeing on the screen to penetrate my mind. When they do, I sit up like a rocket, feeling as if I’ve been launched into an alternate universe. Surely, I’m going crazy.

Among missed calls, multiple social media notifications and texts show up on my screen. A text from Katie somehow manages to stand out from the rest.
“Okay, so I’m going to need specific dick details, because it must be HUGE to warrant marriage. And you’re not forgiven.”

Staring open mouthed at my phone one word keeps repeating in my mind over and over again like a mantra.
Marriage. Marriage. Marriage?
What is she going on about?

I’m still staring at my phone, but I’m not really seeing it because images begin flowing through my mind, touching down briefly before flitting away again. Asher coming up to me at the bar on the beach, him buying me more drinks that I continued to ingest. Dancing with him, our initial hesitant and stunted movements eventually becoming more orchestrated and increasing with desire. I remember my body pressed tightly to the front of his - our hips moving together in ways that felt amazing, sinful and dangerous all at once. Him asking if I wanted to go somewhere else with him, me readily agreeing, and moving our party of two to another bar at another resort, dancing and drinking even more.

When another memory hits me, my mouth falls open and disbelief makes me numb – tingles run through my fingers and toes. I remember the conversation first. The confession. The suggestion. The captivation. Then I remember our actions, and follow through. Shaking my head in denial at the absurdity of my thoughts, I glance down at my hand and freeze.

Oh. Fuck.

Movement beside me makes me still and I look around feeling crazed as I realize I’m not in my own room. Slapping my hand over my mouth I stifle a scream, my eyes finally registering who’s been next to me all along. My eyes start at his covered legs, the sheet pressing against his form like a whisper stopping at his hips. The lines of muscle at his abdomen, his broad chest and shoulders, his strong neck, proud chin and the planes of his face are all devoured by my eyes next. His full lips are parted; dark lashes concealing an indigo gaze that has the power to make me breathless when it’s concentrated on me. His arms are thrown haphazardly over his head, dark hair unruly, face almost boyish in sleep. He presents one hell of a picture.

I’m not going to lie, there’s a moment when I can’t decide if I want to throw up or stand up so I can dance like a football player scoring a touchdown. I’m in bed with Asher. I’m in bed with Asher Fucking Charming. I’m not just in bed with Asher Fucking Charming, I
fucked
Asher Charming if memory serves correctly. Thoroughly too. I almost giggle at the absurd thought.

Looking under the sheet at myself once more, then back at him, I shake my head in disbelief.
Oh my god, I’m naked in a bed with Asher Fucking Charming
. That’s when more memories swallow me. Stumbling into his room, laughing and breathless. Clothing being removed one piece at a time, touching, exploring, tasting, but also smiling, laughing and
feeling
. God, so much feeling, even while completely intoxicated and I remember feeling…home.

Panic sets in. Turning to Asher, I begin to freak out and I’m sure as hell not going to do it alone. “Asher! Wake up!”

He groans, likely feeling the effects from last night as well, but when I say his name again, his eyes pop open. As soon as he focuses on me, he smiles. Not exactly what I was expecting. “Hello, gorgeous.”

I’m momentarily speechless, as he stretches and I watch all the muscles roll under his skin. The sheet shifts lower on his hips and my breath catches in anticipation. Glancing at him, I realize he’s watching me with a smirk and I flush at being caught staring. Grabbing the comforter off the end of the bed, I awkwardly wrap it around my body and stand up needing a little distance, otherwise I’m likely to straddle his hips and make him right at home.
Oh good lord.
“Asher, what did we do last night?”

A slow, wicked smile lifts the corners of his mouth and his eyes twinkle as he sits up in bed. “If you don’t remember, clearly I’m going to need to refresh your memory. I know we were both wasted, but come on princess you wound me, even I remember last night.”

Heat sears my face and chest at his words. Turning away I clear my throat and try to remember what I was asking him as images of us twisted together naked enter my mind. Somehow snapping out of it, I force myself to look at him once again, not that it’s a chore, I mean
damn
. I almost groan when I see he’s sitting against the headboard with the sheet at an indecent level. This is impossible. Shaking my head, I frown, “Stop using your sex mojo on me and pay attention.”

He snorts, “Sex mojo?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said. Stop distracting me.”

“If I was trying to distract you I wouldn’t be in this bed all alone.”

Stomping my foot like a toddler, I huff out a breath in exasperation. “Will you be serious?”

“I’m always serious about sex.”

I have to force myself not to give in and smile. “Alright, pause the testosterone for two seconds and answer my question. Do you have memories of everything we did last night?” He starts to smile seductively again, but I cut him off with a flick of my hand, “Do you have memories of last night
before
we got to the bedroom?”

He frowns at me, “Of course.”

Frowning myself, I shake my head, “I don’t think you do.”

Asher’s phone begins beeping and vibrating again. He glances at it briefly, but ignores it looking back at me. “We were on the beach, we drank, danced, went to a club-” he stops talking when his phone starts going off again. As if on cue, mine starts in again. Clutching it tightly in my hand, I’m momentarily distracted when I look at the screen and see another text message from Katie,
“Please tell me the reason you aren’t calling me right now is because you’re on his cock. Check out this picture on the front of Hollywood Today’s website.”
Attached is a photo of Asher and I kissing. I’m holding flowers in my hand and have another in my hair. I’m the one that posted it, as the photo shows my Facebook information. The caption I posted with the photo reads, “Just married, bitches!”

“Oh my god,” I say, then look at Asher, “Oh god. I’m so sorry. So, so sorry.”

“Why? What’s wrong?” Asher asks sitting forward with concern lacing his voice.

My eyes widen with horror, “Oh god, this is going to be the biggest media nightmare for you. A damn circus.” His phone starts going off again as if verifying my point.

Asher gets out of bed and walks toward me, and good god he’s naked. And he’s glorious. Once again, I’m distracted. My eyes roam all over his body and I feel breathless at the sight. He grasps my upper arms softly, “Ella?” My eyes find his and I’m lost in his gaze. “What’s going on? Why are you so upset?”

Without another word, I swallow hard, then turn my phone to him in order to show him the photo Katie sent me. His brow lowers and I stare at his face for a moment, dissecting every twitch and furrow. Holding up my other hand, I show him the silver ring I’m wearing, it’s glinting emphasizing the photo. I remember how after we had our brilliant idea to get married, we stopped at a vendor’s booth that sold jewelry and looked for matching rings and found a pair within minutes. Reaching for his hand, I grab it and hold it up for him to see. No words needed, the picture and our rings clear enough.

He looks at his ring, and I swear I see a twitch at his lips and something flash in his eyes that I can’t decipher. “I’m sorry,” I whisper again not knowing what else to say, and turning my head away not wanting to see the look on his face. I don’t know what else to say to him, anything else seems inadequate.

“You’re upset that we got married?”

My head spins around so fast my neck aches. “You remember?” He nods and this time, he does smile. “And you aren’t upset?” I ask, my voice rising at the question in disbelief and confusion.

He shrugs, “It was my idea. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me. Remember?”

Staring at him, at the curve of his lips, the look in his eyes, the memory comes to me easily. We were walking through the streets, looking at all the little shops and clubs. Workers of each place were trying to get us to come inside their establishment, some being pushy, some using humor, and others both. Asher’s hand was in mine, steadying me as I hobbled on my feet a bit. He turned to me, his eyes full of question. “All night, you smile here,” he says fingers brushing my lips, “but at times I can see pain in here,” his thumb brushes the underside of each eye gently. “I see stress or sadness here,” he touches the lines between my brows next. “Tell me why. Tell me how I can make it go away.”

And I tell him. I tell him about my disastrous relationship, the back stabbing betrayal, my sham of an engagement, and the circus of a wedding. I tell him how Katie and I decided to run away and that in a way I feel guilty that I don’t feel worse. It’s like I had my cry, felt the rage, but then was able to let go. I remember him turning to me, laughter still on his face after I told him about punching Jeremy and even showed him the bruises still lacing my knuckles. His face lit up with his idea, “Well, we’ll just show him. How about you and I get married? Nothing says I’ve moved on better, right?”

I laughed and told him it was the best idea ever. We efficiently bought rings, found a little chapel open for just such occasions and said ‘I do’ in no time. We took all kinds of selfies, bought a picture package if I recall and came back here and had wild monkey sex. We didn’t waste any time consummating the marriage that’s for sure. Over and over, if memory serves. I could be embarrassed about that, but hell, who would blame me?

“It may have been your idea as a joke, but clearly I’m the one that posted pictures and told the world and oh god, that is totally your publicist or agent calling isn’t it? I bet they’re going to be so pissed. No doubt they are calling with ideas and instructions on how to get rid of me and the evidence of this insanity.” Okay yeah. I’m pretty sure I’ve just entered hysterical territory.

And Asher? Well he shocks me, because he
laughs
. “Princess, calm down. I remember every detail about last night. Every detail.” He says enunciating the last two words with such emphasis while looking me up and down lustfully. Chills break out over my body and I pull the comforter tighter around me as if that will help fight them off. “I could care less what my publicist or anyone else has to say about this, they don’t own me.” I stare at him open-mouthed not able to form words in the slightest. “They can keep calling all they want,” he grabs his phone and just as it starts vibrating again in his hand, he powers it off.