Undeniably Asher (The Colloway Brothers Book 2) (16 page)

“Do you know there are different forms of possession, Alyse?”

I don’t answer. I’m in such excruciating pleasure I can’t string vowels and consonants together, let alone instruct my tongue and lips to make sentences.

“Quick. Fast. Brutal.” He punctuates his words with vicious thrusts. I nearly come from the pleasure his movements stir in every sensitive, swollen nerve ending. I’m so damn close, a couple more pumps and I’ll be flying.

But he doesn’t give it to me.

“Surrender is inevitable, but it’s messy. It’s fleeting. It doesn’t last.” Pulling me to his mouth, he takes my lips in a hard, deep, almost-savage kiss that’s completely contradictory to the way he’s now slowly pushing into me again.

“Slow. Methodical. Deliberate,” he whispers against my kiss-swollen lips. “That possession, Alyse, that surrender is beautiful. It’s transcendent. It’s eternal.” Pulling me back down, his lips brush against my lobe as he whispers, “And that’s what I want from you.”

What if I can’t give you that?

As if he reads my mind, he murmurs right before taking my mouth again, “You will give it to me, Alyse.”

Asher takes his sweet time, making me come twice more. He only picks up the pace at the very end, seconds before he climaxes, finally tensing and releasing on a roar. Our bodies are covered in a fine layer of moisture, our breathing is ragged, and as we sit here wrapped in each other’s arms, my emotions are all over the goddamn board.

I’ve never felt so raw.

I’ve never felt so exposed.

I’ve never felt so consumed.

I’ve never felt so wholly
loved
by anyone.

And I’ve never felt so damn scared in my life that someone is about to see the real Alyse for the first time.

But my real fear is: w
hat if he doesn’t like her?

Chapter 16

Alyse

Sipping my Belgian craft beer, I’m lost in my own little world thinking of a certain dark-haired, blue-eyed sexpot. Asher and I haven’t been able to spend much time together since Monday night. The night he took complete and total possession of both my body and mind. And another little piece of my heart.

I’m still reeling from that night.

The mind-bending sex that I feel days later.

His soul-piercing words went straight to the center of my very being. They still echoed loudly inside me.

And the fact that he wanted me to spend the night? Asher doesn’t seem like the kind of man who regularly welcomes a woman into his bed. When he picked me up and carried me into his bedroom, still inside me, I had a little mental tug-of-war. I had an almost irresistible need to escape back to my safe little apartment, but, just like when I nearly had a meltdown during sex, he wouldn’t let me retreat within myself. I have a feeling that Asher will be challenging me at every corner.

Isn’t that one of the things that drew you to him in the first place?

Even though I’ve been a bit grateful for the space this week, I find I’m missing him terribly. More than I should this early in a relationship. He was out of town on Tuesday and Wednesday. Thursday nights are poker night with Conn and some other friends. Tonight he has a business dinner with Conn and Gray, so I’m having dinner with Livia when I’m done with this meeting. I’ve seen him periodically in the office for a stolen kiss here or there, but it’s not the same.

It’s not enough.

I need him inside me. I have never had this visceral physical need for a man. Remember when you were in love for the first time and you couldn’t keep your hands off each other? This is different; it’s more than that. This is…soul destroying. In either the best possible or worst possible way.

I just don’t know which way it will end.

Annihilation or salvation.

Mine or his.

Or both.

“Ms. Kingsley?”

I look up to see an extremely attractive man looking down at me. I have to blink a few times to make sure I’m not hallucinating. When I realize I’m not, I am momentarily yanked back in time.

He walks through the door and I try to pay attention to the woman with three rowdy, unruly kids currently ordering six drinks. I feel like it takes forever to make her four strawberry smoothies, hazelnut blender, extra whip, and double-shot espresso. We’re shorthanded today, so it’s just Anna and me behind the counter. The line this morning is long and people are getting irritated.

By the time
he
reaches the counter, I’m flustered and short-tempered.

“Hi, I’m Beck,” he says. His smile disarms me, totally taking me off guard.

“Uh, hi.”

The runway model chuckles darkly. I’ve seen him in here a few times, but he’s never spoken to me other than to place his order. I already know he’s not a creature of habit, because his order varies every single time, as does the time he comes in. Coffee, black, one day. Caramel macchiato the next. Vanilla latte, nonfat, please, another time. Not that I’ve been paying attention or anything.

“Do you have a name, beautiful?”

“Yes,” I whisper, my mind racing a million miles an hour that this beautiful creature thinks
I’m
beautiful.

He leans against the high counter, like he has all the time in the world and doesn’t care about the line behind him impatiently waiting for their morning caffeine fix. “And do you plan on telling me, or do I have to guess?”

We’re usually supposed to wear nametags, but I was dragging ass today and it’s still sitting at home on my dresser. I’m glad I’m behind the counter, because even my socks don’t match. One is black and one’s navy blue.

“It’s okay. I don’t bite. Much,” he says with a flirty wink.

Oh. Too bad. I blink a few times, trying to remember my name. “Uh. Alyse. My name is Alyse.”

Reaching across the strip of laminated wood separating us, he grabs my hand, bringing it to his soft lips. “Well, Alyse, now I can finally put a name with the girl I can’t stop thinking about.”

“Wow, that’s quite a pickup line,” I reply, chuckling.

He smiles sheepishly. It’s adorable and accomplishes its intent. “Did it work?”

“Yes.” I laugh, knowing I’m being way too easy. “It did.”

“Good.”

Five minutes later I watch his fine, tight ass walk out the door of Esse’s Coffeehouse with a plain vanilla coffee and my phone number, which he used later that day. That’s how my whirlwind love affair with Beck Mercado began.

The man looking at me now bears a striking resemblance to Beck. His sandy-blonde hair, strong chiseled face, and brilliant green eyes are nearly an exact replica of Beck’s. They could be twins, but I know Beck didn’t have a brother. He was an only child.

I don’t know how long I just stare at him, a barrage of unwanted memories slamming into the front of my brain at a hundred miles per hour.

Picnics by the beach.

Stargazing.

Banana splits on a Sunday afternoon.

Making out in the back alley behind Esse’s during a break.

Proclamations of love and stability and a future.

All shattered.

“Are you okay, miss?” Beck’s doppelganger asks, concern wrinkling his forehead.

“Yes. Yes, sorry. Mr. Jensen?” I ask, standing to shake his hand.

He smiles. If he was attractive before, he is simply breathtaking now. I can hardly pull my eyes away from him. My stomach flutters. This is one of the reasons I’m stuck and can’t make myself move on with someone else. A part of me is still in love with a dead man, despite what he did. I don’t want to be, but I just can’t seem to let it go.

Maybe part of letting it go is letting it out, Alyse.

“Please, call me Cooper.” He winks.

“Then by all means, call me Alyse.”

Grinning again, he takes a seat at the restaurant we’ve chosen to meet at and, pushing aside the fact that he looks like Beck, we spend the next half hour going through his portfolio. He’s edgy and creative. I think he’s absolutely the perfect photographer for Livia and Gray’s wedding. I met with the other photographer yesterday, but I already know I’m going to pick Cooper.

“I know CB29 Studios hasn’t been in business long, but I personally have over a dozen years of experience shooting weddings and our clients have been very happy.” He pulls out a list, dropping it in front of me. “Here are some references if you’d like to call them.”

“Thanks,” I say, folding the paper and tucking it into my purse. I have no intention of calling references. I’m a big believer in first impressions and I have a very good first impression of Cooper Jensen. “So, your price is five thousand?”

“Yes. That includes rights to all digital pictures and six continuous hours of my time, along with an assistant.”

“Wow, eight hundred thirty-three dollars an hour? Do attorneys even get paid that much?” I laugh.

He leans forward, a slight smirk on his face. “The good ones do. Did I mention the tens of hours that it would take me to retouch the photos?”

“How about four thousand?”

“Wow? You want me to take a twenty percent haircut?”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, Mr. Jensen, but you are free that evening, right? So, a twenty percent
haircut
is certainly better than a complete shave. Besides, having Gray and Livia Colloway as a reference would be a big boost to your new company. Trust me on that. Think of it as an
investment
in your future.”

He leans back, crossing his arms. I find myself wondering how many women have gone missing in his smile. We silently stare at each for a few moments before he answers.

“Okay.”

Our gazes never break and I realize we are smiling goofily at each other. I break eye contact, shaking my internal head at the way I’m acting. “So, you require a deposit, I suppose?” I reach back into my purse to pull out the blank check Livia’s given me to secure the photographer once I’ve made a decision.

“You’re giving me the job? Without calling references?”

I look back up. “Yes.”

“Wow. That’s great. A thousand-dollar deposit today is sufficient.”

As I’m making out the check, I feel his eyes on me. Watching. Assessing. Wondering if I’m interested in him, which I’m not. Not in the way he’s probably hoping, but I know that’s not the vibe I’m throwing off, because he’s caught me staring at him several times. I can’t help it. I cannot seem to get over the uncanny way he resembles my dead boyfriend. It’s eerie. And a little unsettling.

“So, Alyse,” he starts after I hand over the check. I cringe at what I know is coming. “I’d love to take you out sometime.”

“I’m flattered, Cooper, but…I’m actually seeing someone.” I look down, ashamed at myself that I’ve led this nice guy on.

“Is it serious?”

When my eyes draw back up, he’s leaning forward on the table, hands clasped. Usually when you tell a man you’re dating someone, he responds with
“That’s too bad,”
or
“Sorry to hear that,”
or
“Here’s my number if it doesn’t work out.”
But after spending the last forty-five minutes with Cooper, I already know he’s not like most men.

Just like Asher.

I don’t hesitate to respond, because as attractive as I think Cooper is, I like Asher. A lot. More than a lot. It’s very possible he could even be
The One
. So I have too much to lose to screw it up by thinking of another man. Especially one that looks like my first love.

“Yes.”

“Well, maybe we can be friends then.”

I’m drawn to this man for reasons I can’t understand or explain and not on a sexual level. I think on his proposal for a few seconds, something that would be easy for anyone else to jump on, but for me it’s not. And I decide that if I can let Asher Colloway in a little bit, maybe I also have room for a friend. A
real
one.

“I think I’d like that.”

Maybe I’m turning over a new leaf after all.

______________

“Come in!” Livia yells.

Opening the front door to Livia’s penthouse apartment, I’m immediately hit with the heavenly smell of pizza, one of my all-time favorite indulgences. Livia and I ate a lot of frozen pizza when we were kids. Totino’s. It was cheap and quick and surprisingly good. You’d think with as much pizza as I ate when I was young that I’d hate it, but you’d be wrong. Livia even worked in a pizza joint. She still loves pizza to this day.

“How was the meeting?” she asks excitedly when I walk into the kitchen.

“Good,” I reply, throwing Cooper’s business card on the counter. “I hired this guy. He’s really good. Very creative. I think you’ll like him.” Picking up a celery stick from a veggie platter, I take a bite and add, “And I saved you a thousand bucks.”

She stops cutting a red pepper that she’s going to add to a platter big enough to feed ten people. “Really? How’d you do that?”

I shrug. “I used my stellar negotiation skills.”

“Thanks. It just makes me sick that this wedding is so expensive. If I would have known how much things were going to cost, I may have reconsidered eloping.”