Undeniably Asher (The Colloway Brothers Book 2) (17 page)

“Livia, you deserve the wedding of your dreams. And I think Gray can afford it.”

“I know. It’s not that. It’s just…I…we never had much growing up, Lys, and even though I know all of this,” she waves the hand that’s still wielding the knife around the massively eloquent apartment, “is going to be mine, it doesn’t seem right to spend money foolishly. I think I’ll always be pragmatic, and spending tens of thousands of dollars on one day just feels…wrong. And stupid.” She shakes her head, going back to her chopping.

“Libs. Your wedding is not foolish or wrong or stupid. It’s special. I know you. It’s the one and only time you’ll be married and you deserve to have everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”

Her eyes snap up and I see something undefined in them before they well with tears.

“Oh God, I’m sorry. What did I say?” I round the counter and hug her. Her shoulders shake, but she says nothing. “Livia, what is it?”

She pulls back, wiping her tears. “Nothing. Hormones. Everything makes me cry these days.” She won’t look at me when she answers. That’s a telltale sign Livia’s lying. My heart hurts that she won’t trust me with the truth.

Hypocrite
, my conscience whispers.

We’re silent for a few uncomfortable minutes. It’s like there’s this big swirling cloud of secrets and distrust between us. I hate it. And I can’t even blame it all on her.

She turns to grab the pizza that’s warming in the oven and sets it on the counter. “I have beer or wine. Which would you prefer?”

“Beer, but I’ll get it.”

“No. I’ve got it. I sit around all day doing nothing. I’m going absolutely stir-crazy now that I’m starting to feel better.”

I watch her busy herself for a couple minutes. “Do you ever think about Mom?” I blurt. I don’t know why I’m asking, because we haven’t talked about our mother in years. It’s not really a taboo subject, just more of a painful one that we both try to avoid.

She sets a Dark Side Porter down in front of me and I take a big, unladylike swallow.

“Sometimes. I wonder if she’s still alive.”

“Me too. Will you miss her being at your wedding?”

Contemplating my question, she finally answers, “I think it’s hard to miss someone you don’t even really know. I’ll miss the
idea
of her, but I can’t say I’ll miss
her
, per se. Make sense?”

“Yes.” I pick at the label, making a confession. “I used to fantasize that she sat outside the house and watched us play in the yard, or that she snuck in at night and tucked us in. I swear I used to smell her perfume lingering in my room some nights or feel the light press of a kiss on my cheek. I used to tell myself she had no choice but to go away and that the only way she’d stay away was if it were against her will.”

Livia’s lips thin. “The older I get the more I realize we don’t always have a choice in a lot of things in life, Alyse. Sometimes choices are made for us and we just have to go along for the ride.”

I nod, not knowing exactly how to respond. I happen to think there’s always a choice. Maybe they’re not good ones, but there are options. Luckily Livia changes subject to something lighter, more neutral.

“So, how’s your project at CFC going?”

Getting settled, I moan at the first bite of the deep-dish cheesy goodness that will go straight to my ass, but I do not care.

“It’s good. I’ve had a lot of meetings this week and just started really digging into the books these past couple of days. I wish I could hit the ground running, but it takes a few days to get acclimated to a company’s systems, culture, and processes. But everyone is very nice and helpful so far, so that’s a plus. That’s not always the case when an auditor walks through the door. We’re just about as welcome as the IRS.”

“That’s true,” she says, chuckling.

My cell buzzes, which is sitting on the table beside me. It’s a text from Asher. I quickly pick it up before Livia sees.

Asher: miss u, baby

I miss you too
. I can’t help the smile that eats up my face.

Me: thought u were eating dinner

He responds immediately.

Asher: i’d rather b eating u

I hope to hell Livia is too busy eating her pizza to notice I’ve turned twenty hues of pink.

Me: me too

Asher: i’m going to feast on u ltr, alyse

God.

Me: i’m not sure i’m on the menu tonite

I set the phone in my lap while waiting for a reply. It takes all of two seconds, but I can’t look because Livia’s watching me like a hawk.

“I can tell by the look on your face that’s Asher,” she smirks.

I ignore her jibe because the suspense is too much. I have to look down at the dirty words that I know await me. I may not have been able to spend a lot of time with Asher this week, but we’ve certainly kept a string of raunchy texts alive and breathing. I’ve been in a constant sexual haze since the day before Thanksgiving when he sauntered into my office looking so goddamn edible I could barely concentrate on the words falling from his lips.

Asher: i’m going to fuck that sass right out of u later

I type a quick reply.

Me: promises promises

I lift my eyes, trying to pay attention to my sister. “And you know that how?”

“Because you’re all flush and giddy.” Damn. I look away, embarrassed, but my head snaps back up when she adds, “And I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you so happy.”

She’s wrong. I was very happy once upon a time. I feel another buzz, but decide to give my attention to Livia.

“Spending a lot of time with him this week?”

“A little. We’ve both been busy.”

“Are you?” she asks.

“Am I what?”

“Happy?”

I take my time answering, because I’m afraid to jinx things.

Yes, I’m insanely happy. Happier than I’ve been in a very long time, but I don’t have any idea where this is going. We’re clearly in lust, but is there more? Can there be more? Asher wants me to submit to him in every way, and Monday night felt more like lovemaking than a good fucking, and that both thrills and scares me.

But my fucked-up mind still waffles dozens of times a day. So much so, I’m giving myself motion sickness. One minute I think I can go all in, leaving the past behind, the next I’m sure this is probably the biggest mistake I’ve ever made, because against my better judgment, I’m invested emotionally already. I haven’t been emotionally invested in a man since Beck.

“Yes,” I finally answer. “But I just don’t know where it’s headed.”

“Where do you want it to go?”

“I—” I want to lie and say I don’t know, but that’s not true. I do know. I am already half in love with Asher. He’s had a part of me since I was seventeen years old. But the other half is mired deep in the past. “I really like him,” I settle for. It feels too early to think about long-term, even though I can’t stop my foolish female mind from going there.

“But…”

“But, I don’t know, Libs. We’re insanely attracted to each other, but I just, I don’t know what he wants beyond sex.” And I’m reluctant to put myself out there completely until I do. Asher’s a player. I’ve known that since the moment I met him eight years ago. So what if he’s just playing me now? His words, and even his actions say otherwise, but I don’t know. My life, my business…they are all in Detroit. Not Chicago. This is only temporary.

Why does that thought make me so sad?

She studies me for a few moments. “You know, I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but Gray talked to Asher the night before Thanksgiving about you.”

That perks me up. That was the night we had our “date” slash fake business meeting. “He did?”

“Yeah. Asher hasn’t been serious about a woman in a very long time, and Gray knew back at that family dinner a couple months ago that he took an interest in you. He’s been trying to warn him off ever since, because he was worried about him hurting you.”

Interesting.

Livia continues. “And Asher asked if Gray cared about
him
getting hurt.” She reaches across the table, taking my hand; sincerity oozes from her. “He likes you, Alyse. A lot, from what I can tell. A woman in his past hurt him badly, but Gray doesn’t talk about it and Asher and I aren’t exactly buddy-buddy, so I don’t know the specifics, but Gray says he hasn’t taken an interest in a single woman since then. Until you.”

My body tingles at her revelation and all those stupid elementary school girl fantasies about Barbie and Ken living happily ever after in their Barbie Dreamhouse try to take hold.

Then a sudden, sick feeling hits me in the pit of my stomach, making me break out into a sweat. “Does Asher know about…you know?”

After Beck’s death, I couldn’t date again until I was a sophomore in college. Nearly two years. His name was Jedd. Even though he was the polar opposite of Beck, I really liked him. Unfortunately I made the relationship-ending mistake of telling him about my little thirty-day vaca in the psych ward because I foolishly wanted to be honest. Once he found out, he didn’t return my calls for a week, and when he broke it off, his bullshit excuse was “It’s not you, it’s me.” Riiiight. So if Asher already knows…

“No, Alyse. He doesn’t know. Gray swore he wouldn’t tell another soul and he never has.”

My relief is palpable. I’m not ready for Asher to know. In fact, I’m not sure I ever will be ready.

I think about how Asher’s worried I may hurt him. He’s not wrong with his concern. “With my track record, Livia, I think maybe
I’ll
end up being the one to hurt
him
.”

“I don’t know, Alyse. I see the way your eyes light up when he’s in the room or when he touches you or even when his name is mentioned. I know I missed a lot these past few years…” The last several words are choked. I sense a sadness in Livia I haven’t seen before and I wonder why I haven’t noticed.

Maybe because you’ve been steeped in resentment, you selfish B.

“…but I’ve never seen you look at someone like you do Asher.”

Guilt stabs me, because I
have
felt this way before. With Beck. I genuinely loved him. I’m hiding so many secrets from Livia. What would be gained by telling her?

Peace?
Maybe.

Freedom from the past?
I don’t know.

“I’m scared, Libs. I’m scared I’ll get hurt.”

“So is he,” she replies, smiling gently. “No risk, no reward. Right?”

“Right,” I mumble, not at all convinced.
No risk, no rejection
has always been my pathetic mantra instead.

How do you persuade your mind to free your heart so it can soar high and free, grabbing that happiness that evades you? I wish I knew the answer. I could bottle it and sell it and become a billionaire.

I chance a look down at the texts that have been sublimely whispering my name and smile. No matter the unwelcome ping-pong game my emotions seem to be playing, there is no denying how I feel about this man.
God, I like him
. So
very
much. But liking him isn’t the real issue. Letting him in is.

Asher: do not touch urself

Asher: ur ass will b a pretty shade of red if u disobey me

Asher: alyse, answer me. now

There’s no way I can leave Asher’s bossiness unchecked. Somehow I think he’d tire quickly if he had a meek woman he thought he could push around.

Me: too late. moan…god that feels sooooo good

Setting the phone back down, I try to turn my attention back to my plate, but suddenly my physical appetite is gone, replaced instead by a sexual one so intense that I’m definitely going to be taking the edge off later. Maybe even now. In Livia’s bathroom. My phone buzzes again and my breath hitches. I can practically hear the growl in his written words.

Asher: ur orgasms belong to me, beautiful

Me: why r u so damn bossy

Asher: cuz it makes u so wet

Damn. Yes it does. Just as I’m about to reply with something snarky, I hear the door open. Male laughter carries into the kitchen where Livia and I sit.

Seconds later, Gray and Asher walk in. The minute they spot us, their laughter stops, replaced by looks that can be mistaken for nothing but hunger. And not for cooked dough topped with hot cheese and pepperoni.

Holy shit, they both look like male gods dropped down from heaven above dressed in their fitted suits. Asher’s is charcoal grey with a deep purple shirt underneath, the top two buttons undone. He looks so fucking sexy, my mouth actually hurts with the need to taste him.

I’m instantly wet. Well…wetter.

Gray hastily makes his way to Livia, tugging her to him for a hard kiss. When he whispers something in Livia’s ear, her face turns red.

Strong arms band around me from behind. Asher’s desire presses hard against my lower back. A rough, raspy voice rumbles in my ear, “Are you ready, baby?”

“For what?” I mumble, just as low.

“Promises.”

How does he always know the right thing to say?

Chapter 17

Asher