The Harder You Fall (Rixon Raiders 3)

“JASON!” Felicity shrieked, clapping her hand over his mouth. “That is disgusting.”

“Nah, babe, it’s fucking delicious,” he mumbled against her palm.

“Seriously though, man, we’re happy for you.” Cam gave us a small nod, shifting Hailee who was curled in his lap, her head resting on his chest. “At least now we can go out without you moaning like a little bitch,” he teased.

“Fuck you. I just so happen to be an awesome fifth wheel.”

“Hey.” I pinched his rib. “What are you trying to say?”

Asher’s eyes slid to mine, shining with lust and other things I wasn’t ready to acknowledge. “You know I want you, Hernandez. It’s you who’s got us moving at a snail’s pace.”

“Ash…” My cheeks burned as I felt everyone watching us, no doubt wondering what he was talking about.

“Say it again,” he breathed, eyes wide with awe.

“Say what?” My brows knitted.

“Ash. You called me Ash.”

“I did?” I hadn’t even noticed.

“Yeah, you did. You know what that means, Hernandez?”

“No, but I have a feeling you’re going to tell me.”

He leaned in, brushing his nose over mine, completely forgetting we had an audience. “It means you must really, really like me.”

“You’re okay I guess.” I smothered the laughter building.

“Say it, Mya. Admit you like me.”

“You really need to hear me say it?” He’d pulled me into his bubble and I couldn’t deny him even if I’d wanted to.

He gave me a small nod, his eyes pleading with me.

“I like you.” It was a whisper, meant only for his ears. But in true Asher Bennet fashion, he threw his head back and roared, “She likes me. Mya Hernandez likes me.”

Laughter exploded all around us, our friends infected with his excitement.

“You’re crazy,” I said, fisting his jacket, coaxing him to come back to me.

“Yeah, you’re right, I am. I’m crazy for you.” He attacked my mouth with his, kissing me clumsily. Greedily. Pushing his tongue into my mouth and tangling it with my own.

This didn’t feel like going slow. It felt like falling recklessly and hopelessly into each other, giving no thought to how hard we might crash.

“Asher,” his name was a breathless whisper as I tried to hold onto my last shred of defenses against him.

But it was futile.

Asher was my weakness.

“What’s got you so happy?” Aunt Ciara eyed me across the table the next morning.

“Nothing,” I said, averting my eyes.

“Don’t be thinking I’m some fool. You’ve got that young and in love look. Please tell me you didn’t fall for that athlete’s charm?”

“Asher, Auntie, his name is Asher.”