“Fuck, Lily, sometimes I wonder if I dreamed you up,” he muttered.
I grinned.
He lifted me to my feet gently. “Your turn,” he murmured against my mouth.
My stomach dipped as he pushed me against the bed and set to ravaging me for the rest of the night.
“Morning lovebirds,” a familiar voice greeted Asher and I in the kitchen of the clubhouse.
This time I wasn’t the one making breakfast, Asher had seated me firmly at the breakfast bar and was cooking. It was welcome, considering my head felt delicate, and my entire body was delightfully sore after what Asher did to it last night.
I smiled shyly as Lucky sat himself next to me. “Morning,” I greeted. I felt slightly self-conscious at the fact I was only clothed in one of Asher’s tees, though it came down to my knees. It was strange that his home was a clubhouse full of other men. Scary men. Hot men like Lucky. Covered in tattoos and sporting beautiful tanned skin and muscles, he was impressive. The fact he was perpetually cheerful when he looked menacing on first glance was comforting. It didn’t mean that ever present weight wasn’t on my chest at being in his presence, being in somewhere like the clubhouse, but I was doing my best to ignore it. To be strong. So I could have more of this with Asher.
“Kitchen bitch, eh?” He nodded to Asher’s back. “Good call, Lily, gotta train ‘em early.” He winked at me.
I giggled. Asher ignored him.
“So,” Lucky continued, reaching to a fruit bowl to grab an apple and take a bite out of it. “Your friend Bex, the stripper. What’s her story?” he asked casually.
“Do not go there, bro, she’ll chew you up and spit you out,” Asher warned, rounding the bar with two plates.
Lucky narrowed his eyes and rubbed his hands together. “Excellent. I enjoy a challenge,” he declared.
I couldn’t help but laugh. Asher was right. Bex would chew him up and spit him out. He was friendly, funny and hot. He had the required bad ass status, but wasn’t a low life asshole, Bex’s usual suspect.
“What’s so funny squirt?” Lucky asked, snagging a piece of bacon off my overflowing plate, abandoning his apple.
He got a glare from Asher at this, which he ignored.
“Asher’s right,” I told him. “You’ve got no chance. Take that as a compliment, Bex excels at finding the shadiest and meanest men she can find,” I told him honestly. “You are neither.”
I tucked into my breakfast and I noticed both men turn serious on either side of me.
“Shady?” Asher bit out, his eyes hard.
“Mean?” Lucky repeated, all playfulness gone from his face.
I looked between them. “Down boys. She can take care of herself,” I reassured them.
Neither looked convinced, and I would come to ask whether bikers had some sort of sixth sense when their concern held considerable merit.
Three Weeks Later
I was juggling various grocery bags between my hands, somehow performing the feat of unlocking the door without dropping anything on the ground. I wasn’t used to carrying this much, but with Asher practically living with me, we needed the extra food. Food he insisted on paying for after considerable debate.
“Put that away.” Asher had growled last week while we were at the supermarket together. Growled. Like a dog. Right in front of the checkout clerk.
I scowled at him, and the fact he was pulling out his own wallet. “What are you doing?” I hissed. “Despite killing my buzz?”
Asher handed the clerk a card and gave me a sideways look. “Your buzz?” he queried.
I stepped forward, so it wasn’t visible I was having an argument with my hot boyfriend in the middle of a grocery store.
“Yes, my buzz. The pleasant feeling I had, up until a moment ago, from wandering around the supermarket with my hot boyfriend,” I informed him snippily. “One you just killed by doing the obvious alpha thing and insisting on paying, when I have the ability to do so,” I continued.
The last part was a lie. I barely had the ability to do so. Bills seemed to be piling up, and since I had started back at college, I needed supplies and books that weren’t covered in my scholarship. I should have been working more, but I’d been accepting the lesser hours I’d been offered by a worried Jude in order to spend more time with Asher. This was all beside the point, though.
Asher’s face changed, he pulled me to his body. “I like this,” he told me softly, brushing my hair out of my face, making it impossible to be angry with him. “That my girl gets a kick out of fuckin’ grocery shopping. That your light is shining brightly again,” he murmured against my mouth. “Though I’m not your boyfriend, I’m your Old Man,” he corrected.
I tried to wriggle out of our intimate position. Asher’s hands were a vice.