Too close. I step away and steel my composure.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mr. Hawthorne.”
“I think you do, Ms. Cleary.” His eyes continue to bore down on me. “I think you’re insisting on seeing my harmless present as a threat, as a sign that I want to do things to you, an offer to have sex, maybe because that’s what you want it to be.”
“What?”
Asher leans forward and whispers in my ear. “Do you want to have sex with me, Violet?”
My heart stops. He follows up that question with a gaze pained with longing, and a lump forms in my throat. I swallow.
“Why would I want to have sex with you?”
“Because you didn’t get to five years ago.”
I snort. “I pushed you away, remember?”
“And yet, you were hurt when I left.”
“I was hurt because you just vanished without saying anything. Because you kept me waiting. Because you left me behind. Because I felt like a fool coming to a party in my date’s fancy car and going home in an Uber.”
“I thought you said I wasn’t your date.”
I roll my eyes. That’s what he picked up from everything I just said?
“So you were waiting for me to come back and pick up where we left off?”
“No.”
“Or did you want me to bring you home and then have sex in your room where no one else could see us?”
“No.”
“Oh, come on. You wanted to have sex with me that night. You only pushed me away because you were scared.”
I open my mouth to answer but no words come out. My mind takes me back to the gazebo on that chilly night.
“You wanted to have sex with me then and you still want to have sex with me now, don’t you, Violet?”
The sound of my name from his lips sends another shiver down my spine. The intensity of his gaze lights a fire in my chest that sends heat through my veins so that it spreads throughout my body. The front of my panties starts to burn. My palms tingle. I can’t breathe.
Why? Why does Asher still have this effect on me?
He places a finger between his throat and the knot of his tie. He gives it a tug and it loosens.
“Tell me what you want, Violet.”
I can’t take my eyes off his tie. I suddenly have the urge to grab it and pull Asher close to me so that our lips can collide. I want to take it off along with every piece of clothing he’s wearing so I can marvel at his naked body, so I can feel it against mine, on top of mine, just like I’ve imagined several times before.
Yes. As much as I hate to admit it, I have imagined having sex with Asher before, especially on those cold nights in Zurich when all I had were a bottle of wine and a platter of cheese to keep me company. In spite of all the hurt, I keep going back to that night of Finley’s party, to that gazebo, wondering what might have happened if Asher and I did have sex.
I did want it. I still do. But I’m not about to tell him that, especially after everything that’s happened these past few days.
That night at that gazebo, I put my thoughts over my feelings. I can do it again.
“I didn’t want to have sex with you back then, Asher Hawthorne,” I tell him. “That’s why I pushed you away. And it’s the best decision I’ve ever made in my life.”
“The best decision or the biggest regret?” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Isn’t that why you got rid of your contacts? Because you want me to think of you the way I did that night? Because you want to redo it?”
“What?”
Is that what he thinks?
“I started wearing contacts after that night because I didn’t want anybody else taking a fancy to me just because I have a rare eye and hair color combination. I didn’t want to deal with any other jerks. And the reason why I’m not doing that anymore? Because you’re a jerk I’ve already dealt with. Also, because I want you to remember what you did to me.”
“So that I can regret it? I already do.”
Does he?
“You have a funny way of showing it.”
For a moment, he just looks at me. The lust in his eyes is gone now. But I still see the pain. Is that remorse?
Asher draws a deep breath. “Fine. I won’t criticize you in front of others from now on, and I won’t steal your ideas.”
“And?”
“I’ll hear you out whenever you have something to say.”
Good. “And you won’t ask me to get your coffee, make copies for you, or do any of the other things that Dylan is supposed to be doing?”
“Fine.”
I grin. I came to this fight feeling already beaten and about to throw in the towel, and now here I am, winning. It’s a good feeling.