All the Truths (Lies & Truths 2)

“Ash…? What are you doing?”

“I just started my dinner.” I can feel his smirk without seeing it. “I’m going to tongue-fuck you until you can no longer move, prom queen.”

And then he makes good on his promise.

Asher takes me home in the morning.

We’ve barely talked since we woke up. Could be because of what happened last night—or everything that happened in the past.

After he wrenched three orgasms out of me with his tongue and fingers, I kind of passed out. The stimuli messed with my sensitive core, and I begged him to stop, sobbing through one orgasm after another.

Asher being Asher, he didn’t.

My voice turned hoarse and I thought I was getting dehydrated by the time he emerged from between my trembling legs and let them fall to the bed.

I was too spent to open my eyes, so I fell asleep right away.

When I opened my eyes in the morning, I was covered and comfy, but there was no sign that he’d slept beside me. He must’ve gone back to the living room or the guest room.

My heart still has that slight ache at the thought—not that I want him to sleep with me. That’s beside the whole point of avoiding him.

Currently, he drives with ease, one hand on the wheel and the other on his thigh. No words. No nothing.

I chat with Naomi and Lucy in our group chat the entire way. It’s a useless attempt to distract myself from Asher; my mind keeps dragging me back to him anyway.

His presence is impossible to ignore or deny. He’s like a constant, unmovable and unchangeable.

I peek at him through my lashes, at his styled hair and thick brows, at his chiseled jaw and firm lips that kissed me in intimate places and brought me to the highest throes of pleasure.

My cheeks heat and I shake myself internally to chase away the image. What’s wrong with me? This isn’t the time to think about that.

Besides, he hasn’t mentioned it once this morning. Maybe he regrets it.

Why does that fill me with so much trepidation?

I mean, I should regret it, too, but I can’t find it in me to do that.

We make it to the house’s driveway. It’s still early in the morning so a few staff are mingling around the garden.

I reach out a hand to release my seatbelt. Asher grabs it in his, startling me.

“W-what is it?” I halt midway, my pulse skyrocketing.

“We’ll talk to Alexander,” he says.

I nod. That’s what I’ve been planning to do. He obviously knows about the business Dad did with the mafia, and he must know something about my sister.

“After he tells you what you want to know, you’ll tell him you’re moving back to your apartment.”

“Why?” My voice sounds as spooked as I feel.

“I don’t care to share you.” His grip tightens around my wrist. “You belong to me, remember?”

My heart suddenly resurrects back to life, beating and thumping so wildly it’s impossible to keep up. It’s as if it’s been dead since the morning and Asher just gave it a reason to be alive.

He really needs to stop saying things like that if all he ever plans to do is hurt me. He needs to stop touching me, calling me his, and looking at me with those intense eyes that seem ready to strip me bare and devour me all over again. My brain is starting to disregard the danger and focus on those small gestures, on what his body is saying instead of what his mind is planning.

“What if I don’t want to move out?” I ask. “People are after me.”