“He’s my husband,” Linda says, stepping out from behind the guy's large frame, looking like a movie star.
“Really?” the big guy asks her. When she nods, he turns to me with a scowl but indicates for me to enter. “Next time, lead with that, buddy,” he calls over his shoulder as the people that were behind me hand their invitations to him.
I drink her in. The vision of her gorgeous lithe body encased in all that black silk will be one that stays in my brain until my dying day.
“You’re breathtaking,” I tell her in earnest.
“Why are you here?” she questions, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. There is no hostility in her voice, just a wobble in her tone that shows her nerves. Whether that's because of me or the show itself remains to be seen.
I grab her hand and pull her over to the first door we reach and yank it open, finding a cleaning supply closet. Pulling her inside, I shut the door behind us, enclosing us in the darkness. There is next to no space in here, leaving our bodies pushed tight against each other.
“What are you doing?” she whispers.
“I’m finding a quiet place to tell my wife that I love her. That I’m in love with her, and that I want to spend the rest of my life with her. I fucked up, and I’ll fuck up again. I’m a man, it's what we do, but I promise I won't ever lie to you or make you feel less than you are. I walked out on the biggest deal of my life tonight when it became blindingly clear that the only contract I care about is the one tying me to you. Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. I’d give up everything for a second chance, but don’t ask me to give up on us. Say you’ll be mine, Skittle,” I demand.
I hear her sob before her tear-filled voice echoes in the quiet room.
“I’m already yours. I’ve always been yours,” she chokes out.
I don't wait for anything else. I cup her face with my hands, feeling for her lips with my thumb before sliding my mouth over hers, claiming her once more.
I can’t do soft and sweet. My need for her and the relief of finally feeling her in my arms again outweighs everything else. Our kiss burns hot and heavy like they always do, our passion for each other as combustible as always, igniting a need in me so strong I have to lock my knees to prevent them from buckling.
“I need to be inside you, Skittle,” I groan, sliding the smooth material up over her hips before yanking her up into my arms.
“Oh god, Asher, people will be looking for me,” she protests, but she doesn't pull away. Instead, she starts grinding her slick heat against my rock-hard cock.
I pull my lip from hers when I realize my hands are on bare skin. “Are you wearing underwear?”
She laughs but groans as the motion pushes her harder against my dick. “In this dress, it wasn’t an option. I thought that might have been your intention all along,” she admits with a pant.
I use the wall to support her one-handed as I fumble with the other to free myself from the confines of my pants. “It wasn’t, but I’m sure fucking glad for it now,” I groan as I use the tip of my cock to locate her entrance before slamming my full length inside her.
She muffles her screams by burying her head in the crook of my neck, but I couldn't care less if the whole studio hears us. I’m finally home where I belong, inside the woman I love.
Thirty-Five
Linda
I flush every time someone makes eye contact with me, convinced they know what we were just doing in the janitor’s closet. Thankfully, I had enough awareness about me after my mind-blowing orgasm to convince Asher to let me finish him off with my mouth because the tiny hanky I had used to clean up with would have been woefully inadequate.
And, let's be honest, there are no secrets when wearing a silk dress and no underwear. He might have loved the idea of me walking around with his essence on the inside of my thighs, but me, not so much.
“Stop fidgeting. You look stunning. Every guy in here wishes he was me,” Asher whispers into my hair, giving the hand he’s holding a reassuring squeeze.
“Well, yeah, because they think I’ll put out in the closet,” I grumble, making him laugh.
“They can think what they want, but I’m the only lucky fuck that gets to slide inside your hot little pussy.”
“Asher!” I scold with a gasp, scanning the room to make sure nobody is listening.
He turns a little to look down at me, his free hand cupping my jaw. “I love you,” he tells me softly.
My heart swells at his words. I don't think I’ll ever get tired of hearing it. “I love you too.”
“Linda?” I look to the left and see my stepfather staring at me in shock.
“Dad?” I splutter, pulling away from Asher a little. “What are you doing here?”
“Dad?” Asher questions in shock. “Peterson is your father?”
I look up at him, wondering what's going on.
“I followed Asher here after he left our meeting like a bat out of hell. Now imagine my surprise at finding him here when he was meant to be meeting his wife. I guess my first impression of you was correct,” he spits at Asher.
Asher ignores him completely, focusing solely on me. “I didn’t know, I swear. You don’t have the same last name, hell, I didn’t even know Peterson had a daughter,” he assures me, willing me to believe him and, surprisingly enough, I do.
“I have my birth dad's name. Jack’s my stepfather, and I believe you had no clue who I was or the whole Vegas wedding then being separated for a year would have likely played out differently.”
His shoulders sag in relief before he wraps his arm around me and tucks me into his side.
“Does anyone want to explain to me what the fuck is going on?” my father splutters. I wonder how he even got in without an invite because lord knows I didn’t send him one. I’m about to ask when Molly steps up to me.
“I’m so sorry to interrupt, Mrs. Sloan, but I just wanted to let you know that we’ve sold all but the one piece you asked us not to. Congratulations.” She gives my arm a squeeze, ignoring the tension surrounding us, leaving me in shock as she walks away and Graham takes her place.
“Asshole,” I greet him with a sweet smile.
“Laura.” He smirks back.
“Did she just call you, Mrs. Sloan?” my dad whispers loudly, making me turn to face him as his face pales.
I swallow hard and burrow closer to Asher. “Yeah. I believe you know my husband, Asher.”
“So let me get this straight, you got fired from your job, got married in secret, and now you’re working at a gallery?” he says with distaste coating his words, making me shrink in on myself a little. I guess some things never change.
Asher’s arm tightens around me as I speak. “Actually, I work in a bar,” I snap, but my father talks over me.
“This is exactly the reckless kind of behavior I was talking about. I was trying to protect you from men like him, and now you are… you’re, you’re…” he flounders, so I answer for him.
“I’m happy,” I answer for him.
He scoffs, but Asher has had enough. “Excuse me, Peterson, but I don't think you are in any position to judge us. It seems to me your daughter didn’t fit the mold you tried to shove her into, so she left to be free. That’s on you, not her. You should be fucking proud of who she is, Christ knows I am. I’m the luckiest person in this room because I get to wake up every day knowing Linda is in my life. What kind of idiot would throw that away? Look around you. All these people are here to celebrate your daughter's success. The only person who can’t seem to see how amazing she is, is you.”
My father looks around the room as my heart beats out of control at Asher's speech. I focus on my father’s face as he freezes and his lips part as he stares at something across the room. I turn and see the picture of my mother.
“Ella,” he breathes, walking toward it, almost like he’s in a trance.
“Are you all right?” Asher asks softly.
I lift my head to look at him and nod. “I am now.”
“I feel like I deserve some credit for this,” Graham announces, breaking the moment, making me look at him in confusion.
“Credit for what? What are you even doing here?” Asher voices my question.
“Peterson was impressed you were so devoted to your wife. He insisted we join you. Of course, I didn’t know he was your father, Laura. Thanks for the heads up,” Graham mocks, and the desire to punch him surges.
“You must have a really big dick,” I muse, making him look at me in surprise.
“Skittle,” Asher warns from beside me, but I ignore him.
“Not that it's any of your business, but I really do,” Graham answers magnanimously.
I nod. “I figured as much because, for the life of me, I can’t see what else your fiancée could see in you,” I tell him, and if I weren’t watching him so closely, I would have missed the twitch of his lips.
“I want it.”
I turn to face my father when he speaks. I hadn’t even noticed he had returned. “You want what?” I ask in confusion.
“The picture of Ella. I’ll pay you whatever you want.”
I can feel the depth of love he has for my mother in the cadence of his voice. Even after all this time, she is still the love of his life.
Stepping forward until we are toe to toe, I look up into the haunted eyes of the man who taught me to ride a bike and who read me bedtime stories.
“I don't want your money, Dad. That picture was never for sale. Take it. It's yours,” I say softly, and he swallows hard.
“It's beautiful, all your pieces are. I’m sorry I ever made you doubt that.” He leans down and places a kiss against my forehead before whispering lightly, “You love him?”
“More than I ever thought possible,” I answer him honestly.
He stands back up, tucking a strand of multicolored hair behind my ear with a smile. “Then hold on tight to him and don’t let go.”
He looks over my shoulder at Asher. “Be at my office at ten on Monday morning, and we’ll finalize the deal then. Spend the weekend with your beautiful wife,” he adds before turning and walking away.
I stand there and watch him leave and blink back tears.
“You okay?” Asher asks, wrapping his arms around me.
I look around the room at people who came to see my work before focusing my gaze on my handsome husband who made it happen.
“Yeah, I really am.”
The rest of the evening passes in a blur. It's everything I ever dreamed of and so much more. With a final goodbye, I grip Asher’s hand and let him pull me outside into the cool night air. He leads me across the now quiet street to the car where Davis is standing with a large smile on his face.
Pushing me against the car, Asher kisses me again, making me laugh against his lips.
“There is an excellent chance I won't be able to stop touching you tonight, maybe ever. I thought I should warn you.” Dipping his head and placing his lips against my ear so Davis can’t hear he adds, “I’m a starving man, and you are fucking delicious.”
“Ever the charmer,” I tease.
“Only with you, Skittle. It's always only ever been you,” he admits, and I feel the truth of with every fiber of my soul—the same words I said to him earlier.
Asher pulls us aside so that Davis can open the door just as someone calls my name.
“Mrs. Sloan?” We both turn at the sound of a woman's voice and find Molly, the art coordinator, standing just outside the door of the gallery.
“Give me two minutes and I’ll be all yours,” I whisper before standing on tiptoes, brushing a kiss over Asher’s cheek.
“Hurry up, wife. I have plans for you,” he says, sliding into the back seat of the car as I quickly make my way back over to Molly.
“Sorry, Mrs. Sloan. I just wanted to let you know that we are so impressed with tonight's event we would like to arrange for another. Would six months be long enough for you to come up with ten to twenty pieces?” she asks excitedly.
“The muse can be a fickle creature, but I think I can work with that time frame. Thank you, and thank you for tonight. I was a wreck and you kept everything running smoothly without breaking a sweat.”
She laughs, holding out her hand for me to shake. “It's what I do, and it was my pleasure. Your work truly is exceptional. I’d better let you get back to your husband. Have a good evening, Mrs. Sloan.”
“Please, call me Linda.”
“Linda then,” she agrees with a smile.
I wave and turn, making my way back to Asher when the sound of a rapidly approaching car has me turning to find the source of the noise.
Everything after that moment plays out almost in slow motion. I hear a woman scream and Asher roar my name as the small red car hits me so hard I find myself up in the air looking down at the asphalt before hurtling into it.
It isn’t until Asher is by my side, stroking my face with tears in his eyes that everything speeds back up to real-time. Strangely enough, I don’t feel any pain. Maybe I’m not as badly hurt as I thought.
I can just see Davis at my left holding on to Molly as she talks into her cell phone. I can't see anything else as my head refuses to turn, so I move my eyes back to Asher who is calling my name.
“I’m okay,” I tell him, trying to reassure him as I hear sirens in the distance, but my voice sounds faint and not like my own.
Asher lifts his hand to swipe his face, leaving a streak of red on his cheek.
Blood.
It's my blood, I realize, that coats his hands and shirt.
“It doesn’t even hurt,” I promise. My words are meant to reassure him, but they just make him sob.
“Shh…don’t try to speak, Skittle. Just hold on for me, baby. Don’t let go,” he begs.
My eyelids start to feel heavy, drifting closed until hands on my cheeks make me snap them back open. “Eyes on me, Skittle, you keep your fucking eyes open,” he snaps, but it's not anger in his voice, it's fear.
Everything starts to dim around me as a sort of haze falls over us, but I just concentrate on Asher, keeping my eyes locked on his, letting him anchor me here.
“I love you,” I whisper, finally cluing in to what he must already know.
Something is wrong, really, really wrong. I can't feel anything beyond my tears running down my face.
And I can't move, why can’t I move? If this is the last chance I get, I want to hold him one last time.
But I can’t fucking move.
“I love you too, Skittle, so fucking much.” He places a tender kiss on my forehead, his tears dripping onto my skin and mixing with mine. “Hold on for me, okay, just a little longer, Skittle.”
“I’m tired, Asher,” I admit brokenly as the haziness continues to grow, forcing my vision down to a single point until all I can see is Asher.
I gaze up at the man I love, his handsome face lined with grief and despair as he looks down at me like a fallen angel illuminated by the city lights and I’m hit with a moment of clarity.
I’m not going to make it. This moment is all we have left.
I wish I had held him a little tighter, loved him a little harder, forgiven him a little faster, but it's too late now.
“I just got you back. This isn’t how our story ends, Skittle, I promise you. We will have a lifetime together filled with kids and grandkids. You’ll die old, and in your sleep, wrapped up in my arms, and I’ll follow right behind you,” he vows desperately.
“I’m sorry,” I gasp, feeling my tears spilling over because I would have sold my soul for our story to have played out like that.
“If I had the chance to do it all again, I would. I would trade a thousand lifetimes for the moments I spent with you,” I whisper. My eyes start to close, even as I fight my hardest to keep them open.
“Linda. Linda!” I hear Asher roar my name, but my lips refuse to move.
“No, Skittle, no. I refuse to let you go. Do you hear me? I refuse!”
I can hear struggli
ng and feel myself being cradled against a hard chest, but the pull of the darkness is too great for me to fight.
Wrapping his words around me like a cloak, I draw comfort from them, giving in to the dark, knowing if anyone can tether me to this world, it's Asher.
Thirty-Six
Asher
I watch her like I have done every day for the last two weeks. I’m scared if I look away for even a second, she’ll be snatched away from me.
At this point, I think my refusal to let her go is the only thing keeping her alive.
The beeping of the machine beside me has been the soundtrack of my life for the last two weeks. The only reprieve I get is when I pass out, and then the beeping is replaced by the sound of Linda’s body hitting the hood of Dawn’s car before crumpling to the ground with a sickening thud.
The list of injuries she sustained is endless and after coding twice, I was told to prepare for the worst.
Now that she’s stabilized and breathing for herself, the doctors want me to prepare for the fact that she might never wake up, and if she does, she might not be the same woman she was.
I stopped listening to them after that. She beat the odds once, she can do it again. My Skittle is a fighter.
I turn at the sound of a knock and raise a surprised eyebrow at the man who walks through, but that’s all the attention I spare him, before turning back to my wife.
“Asher.” My father says my name, but when I don’t answer, he sighs.
When his hand squeezes my shoulder, I don’t shrug him off, but I don’t speak either, barely able to hold myself together as it is. I don’t trust myself to talk to the man who brought that woman into my life.
See, the car accident wasn’t an accident at all. Dawn decided that if I could take everything from her, then she’d return the favor.
“I’m sorry,” he tells me, his voice sounding rough and filled with guilt.
Hoax Husband: A Hero Club Novel Page 18
