The Harder You Fall (Rixon Raiders 3)

I stood up and stalked toward her. Mya’s eyes went big, tracking my movements until I hovered right in front of her. “Asher, what are you…?”

“Chips,” I deadpanned. “I need chips.” Shoving my hand into the bowl, I scooped up a handful, winked at her, and sat on the end of her couch. She narrowed her eyes at me, pressing her pouty lips into a thin line.

“Problem?” My brow rose.

“Just play the damn movie,” she mumbled.

But the movie wasn’t distraction enough. It didn’t stop me from watching her out the corner of my eye, stealing discreet glances as she laughed and gasped and buried her hands into her face. There was something so fucking pure about seeing Mya this way. Completely uninhibited and free. It did all kinds of crazy things to me; made my heart race and my palms sweat. It also made me act like a dumbass because before I knew what I was doing, I’d shuffled closer to her and grabbed her hand in mine. I half-expected her to tear her hand away and chew me out. But Mya was full of surprises, letting our joined hands rest between us as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

Then the stars aligned.

Mya almost jumped out of her skin when the bad guy appeared out of the shadows, brandishing a knife and ready to kill. “Holy shit,” she shrieked, her ass lifting at least two inches off the couch. Laughter rumbled deep in my chest as I slipped my arm around her shoulder and pulled her into my side. “It’s okay,” I teased, “I’ll protect you.”

“Asher...” Her hand went to my stomach, my muscles contracting beneath her touch, blazing a path of heat down, down, down. My eyes dropped to hers, hooded and hungry.

“Asher, what are you...”

“Just one taste,” I pleaded, needing to kiss her so much it hurt.

“I—” she started, but my hand slid into her hair, tilting her face to mine. “We shouldn’t...” It was a cracked whisper, her eyes telling me something different. Silently giving me permission.

The movie raged on around us, the explosions and cries from the surround sound system drowning out to nothing but white noise, as I gently brushed my lips over hers. Mya let out a little whimper, her fingers curling into my t-shirt. My pulse ratcheted, my body burning for the girl who tasted like strawberry kisses.

“Asher, this is a bad idea.” Her words should have doused me in cold water, but they didn’t. Because Mya didn’t pull away. She didn’t shove me back and run. Instead, she pressed her lips to mine again, pulling my body into hers. I went willingly, pressing Mya into the back of the couch, learning the shape of her mouth, the curves of her body.

I’d only been half serious when I told Flick I thought me and Mya were written in the stars, but kissing her, feeling her underneath me, I felt a cosmic shift. Maybe this—us—wasn’t destiny but we were so fucking right for each other I wanted to scream it from the rooftops.

So when she breathed, “Stop, Asher. You have to stop,” as if we were doing something wrong, I knew it was a mistake.

Because nothing was wrong about this.

Not one single thing.

I just had to make her see it.

Mya

Asher kissed me.

He wasn’t supposed to kiss me.

I wasn’t supposed to let him kiss me.

But the way he looked at me, with so much yearning and hope; it cracked right through the last of my defenses. Leaving me unprotected and powerless against his charms.

I didn’t feel vulnerable the second his lips touched mine though, I felt alive. Warmth coursed through me like wildfire. His weight pressed against me, overwhelming in the best kind of way.

A fighter at heart, I’d always had to fight for what I wanted. A girl growing up, in a man’s world ravaged by drugs and crime. For so many years, I’d stood by Jermaine’s side, defending him, refusing to let him fall deeper into the trap. I’d looked out for him right since we were kids, when I never had anyone looking out for me. But here in Asher’s house, tangled in his arms, his lips hovering right over mine, I felt safe. I felt like he would never let anything hurt me.

It should have been a relief. Here, with him, I could finally breathe. But the strength of my developing feelings for him scared me. Because here, behind closed doors, it was just the two of us. There was no judgment or stereotypes, whispers or glares. No black, brown, or white. No rich and poor. There was only lust and desire and a connection I was no longer sure I could fight.

“Why do you like me?” I blurted out, killing the moment. But fear was a strong motivator.

Asher stared down at me, confusion crinkling his eyes. “I’ve never met anyone like you, Mya,” he said. “You’re strong and beautiful and loyal. You’re not intimidated or in awe of the team, and you are so fucking beautiful it hurts.”

“You already said that.” My lip curved.

“I did?” His eyes danced with humor. “Your beauty deserves repetition.”