Bad Habit (Bad Love 1)

Hair curled: check. Lips in Scarlett Empress by Nars: check. Winged liner: double check. I turn to my bed, admiring the dress I got from Natalia’s mom’s boutique. It’s burgundy with spaghetti straps. The top is skintight lace with a deep scalloped neckline. The bottom flares out, hitting mid-thigh. It’s gorgeous, but the back is my absolute favorite part. The thin straps form an “X” across my shoulder blades, leaving the rest of my back completely bare. I pair it with black pumps, black bracelets, and a simple black choker. It’s feminine, yet edgy, and perfect for me.

I walk into my closet to find a matching clutch, and all I can think about is how I wish I was going to this thing with Asher instead of Jackson. But that would never happen. Even if Asher were the suit and tie kind of guy, my parents would probably have a coronary if I showed up on his arm. I would, though. If Asher called me up right now and told me that he wanted to be official and tell our families, I would in a heartbeat. Fuck what anyone else thinks. The only person I’d worry about is Dash. I don’t want to hurt him. But I think, in time, he’d come around. He’d want us both to be happy. Would it be so bad to find happiness together?

Deciding on my black studded Michael Kors wristlet, I walk back into my room.

“Why so blue, baby girl?”

My head snaps up to find Asher sitting on the end of my bed.

“Jesus!” I whisper-yell, rushing over to close my bedroom door. “I need to put a bell around your neck. You’re like a goddamn ninja.”

Asher smirks and pulls me to stand between his spread legs. His hands grip my waist, his thumbs rubbing my stomach. My heart pounds in my chest, and I feel myself already growing slick. My eyes close, and I lean into his touch. His hands flatten against my stomach, then move down to grip the hem of my dress.

“Show me what you

have on underneath.” His voice is thick and gruff, and I nod in acquiesce. Bunching up the skirt, he exposes the black lace.

“Turn around.”

I comply, and he mutters a curse. I’m wearing a high-waisted thong that laces up in the back, showing a lot of skin and little to imagine.

“Fuck, this ass,” he says, bringing his hands up to squeeze my cheeks in his palms. He spins me back around to sit on his knees, my legs straddling his. “I missed you today,” he says grudgingly, like he’s mad at me for it, as his thumb starts to circle my clit through my panties.

“God, I missed you, too,” I say on a gasp, wrapping my arms around his neck as he continues his ministrations.

“I know you’re not all dressed up for me,” he says, his lips ghosting across the shell of my ear, his voice low and deadly. “Where are you going?”

I freeze, like a bucket of ice water has been dumped over my head. How do I tell him that I have to break our plans to go on a date with someone else? Someone that he already can’t stand.

“Briar,” he warns when I don’t respond. His thumb still rubs me.

“I have to go to this fundraiser gala for my parents tonight.”

“And?” he questions, knowing I’m not spilling everything.

“And I have to go with Jackson.”

“Say that again.” Venom laces his tone. “I must have heard you wrong. I thought you just said that you were going on a date with the guy that your brother and I have repeatedly warned you to stay away from.”

His thumb moves faster, pressing harder, and I can’t focus, let alone form coherent sentences.

“It’s not like that,” I manage to get out.

“Tell me what it’s like then, Briar.” His other hand comes up to fist my hair at the back of my head, forcing me to look at him while he continues his interrogation as he gets me off.

I moan, my hips jerking forward on their own accord. “My mom…” I start, but I’m lost in the sensations running through me. My body feels like a live wire, threatening to explode at the next touch.

“Your mom?” Asher prompts, sliding his fingers underneath the lace.

“She set it up. It’s not a real date.”

“So say no.”

“It’s not that easy,” I say, as a finger slips inside me. It’s slow and teasing, enough to make me crazy, but not enough to get me off. “I have to. I’m sorry.”

Losing patience, I grip his wrist, moving his hand at the speed I need.

“Does that feel good, baby?” he whispers, adding another finger, pumping harder.