“Can’t say I didn’t see this coming,” a raspy, familiar voice grumbles, startling me out of my slumber. It’s dark, and it takes me a second to remember where I am. Asher brought me to his dad’s house last night, because neither of us wanted to deal with people or the hassle of sneaking around. I wasn’t sold at first, but I figured any time Asher spends around his father is a plus.
Ash is wrapped around me. His nose is in my hair, his arm banded around my waist. I reach behind me to shake him awake. He barely budges.
“Leave me alone,” he growls in his sleep-sexy voice, squeezing me tighter to him. It rumbles in my ear, leaving goose bumps across my neck and down my arms. “This is the best sleep I’ve had in years.”
I melt at his words, all vulnerable and unfiltered due to his sleepy state, and my face heats because John’s lifted eyebrow and amused expression tell me that he has heard every word. Asher is an adult, and he doesn’t strike me as someone who ever followed the rules, even as a kid. But, I’m still seventeen, and I’ve just been caught in a boy’s bedroom. I should feel the need to apologize or make excuses, but somehow, I know the normal rules don’t apply. At least not here.
“I’ll leave you two to it,” John says, before slowly making his way back down the hall. Asher finally opens his eyes when he realizes we aren’t alone, but he doesn’t offer up any explanation. Once his dad is gone, I cover my face with both hands.
“Well, that wasn’t weird at all,” I deadpan.
“You’re fine,” Ash says, his voice still thick with sleep. “He doesn’t care about this kind of thing. Trust me.”
I know Asher’s a bit of a man whore, but the insinuation that he brings a lot of girls home still stings. And my face must show it.
“What?” he asks, confused. I turn away from him, but he turns me onto my back by my shoulder and props himself on one arm to hover over me. His mussed-up hair that hangs in his right eye, his square jaw full of day-old stubble, his muscular arm braced on the pillow next to my face. How could anyone not want him? He’s perfection personified. The bad boy with a good heart. I know it’s there, even if he tries his best to hide it.
“Briar…” he coaxes, smoothing my hair off my face.
“I’m being stupid,” I answer honestly. Because I am being stupid. What happened with Asher and other girls before me is irrelevant. Even if we were technically together—which we aren’t—it still wouldn’t matter. I’m not going to be one of those girls who obsesses over every single person he’s ever come in contact with.
“Tell me.”
“I was just wondering how many girls have been in this bed.”
He smirks and opens his mouth, but I cover it with my palm.
“I don’t want to know!” I say quickly. Ignorance is definitely bliss in this scenario. Asher chuckles into my hand and then bites the skin of my palm. I jerk it back, and he pins it to the pillow next to my head, lowering himself onto me.
“I’ve never brought one single person into this room. Male or female.”
“Even Whitley?”
“Even Whitley,” he agrees.
How is that possible?
“Come on, Briar. You know how my dad was. I wasn’t bringing anyone over here. I didn’t even want to be here. You’re the only one.”
I love feeling like I’m different than everyone else to Asher, as juvenile as that sounds. Maybe even special. He doesn’t say it in flowery words or extravagant public declarations of love, but that makes it mean even more to me. Ash is like an onion with many layers. With each one, I find something more to him.
“Oh,” I say dumbly.
“Oh?” he repeats, cocking a brow. “That’s all you have to say?”
“I’ve never had another guy in my room, either.”
“Good.”
And then he lowers his head, pressing those full lips to mine, before trailing them down my neck, collarbone, the curve of my breast. I arch under his touch, never needing anything more than the slightest touch to burn for him. He reaches for the hem of the old P.E. shirt from high school that he let me borrow and sprinkles open-mouthed kisses up my stomach. Just before he exposes me completely, I hear John erupt in a coughing fit from the other room, reminding me of our surroundings.
“Ash,” I say, already breathless. “We can’t. Your dad.”
He growls, biting the underside of my boob before rolling away.
“Guess I’ll go make sure he didn’t hack up a lung,” Asher grumbles, and I laugh, righting my shirt.
“Don’t be an ass. I’ll be out in a minute.”