by Olivia Chase
“I’m not drinking anymore, Whitney. I gave all of that shit up.”
My heart is falling apart piece by piece. I scramble to keep myself together and not give in to anything. I just nod, my throat tight.
He finally, finally reaches over and touches me, and it’s like I’m seared. My skin warms and I almost lean toward him. It takes infinite willpower to stay in place. “I missed you so fucking much,” he breathes. I can see the depth of his feelings in his eyes. The ache there. For me.
Don’t say anything. I just stand there and pretend I’m made of stone.
“It’s going to take a while to prove myself to you. But you’re worth it.” He gives a resolute nod, then tugs his backpack higher. “I’ll see you around, Whitney.”
The next couple of weeks pass this way—Asher sitting beside me in psych class. Asher somehow showing up wherever I’m having lunch or dinner. Asher behind me in the line at the coffee house.
And every time he shows up, a little bit of my resistance chips away.
It doesn’t help that he’s as charming as he used to be before everything went down in the fall. His smile is magnetic. He’s made friends on campus. Everyone loves him. Even the professors make a point of seeking him out, telling him they’re looking forward to watching him play in the fall. Apparently, the football coach offered him a ridiculously lavish scholarship when Asher contacted him about transferring here.
And the campus god is pursuing me. Hardcore.
And now I’m waiting in line for a Danish when Asher appears behind me, yet again, as confident and calm as ever.
“Your hair is gorgeous this afternoon,” he says, shooting me that charming smile of his.
Per our usual routine now, I pretend indifference. “What, no comment on my new sweater?”
His gaze rakes over my breasts, and a warm flush spreads across my chest and up my throat. Shit. That backfired. Now I’m remembering what it was like having his hands on me, his mouth on me.
The way he made me come.
“You’re still so stunning, you take my breath away,” he says. And he sounds so earnest, I actually believe him.
I want to believe that he’s changed, that he’s not just going to hurt me again. But I’m so scared to be vulnerable to him.
I turn around and will myself to breathe steadily, moving forward with the line.
“What are you ordering?” he asks me.
“You should know. You’ve been stalking me every day,” I tell him archly.
That makes him laugh, a warm sound that rolls over me. God, I miss him, I miss him, and it’s getting more difficult to keep fighting this.
Staying strong is driving me crazy.
“I’m not stalking you. I’m diligently expressing to you how badly I want you. How much I crave you.” He leans close and breathes in the scent of my hair, and I shiver at the intimate gesture. “Whitney, I know you’re scared. Pushing you away was one of the stupidest fucking things I ever did. I can’t undo it, but I can keep showing you every day how much you mean to me. And if that means I spend my days following you around, then at least you’ll know you can depend on that.”
The sincerity in his voice makes me want to cry. I can’t turn around and look at him because I’ll cave. I know me too well—he’s getting to me, wiggling his way back under my skin.
But I also can’t forget how I felt that day when he told me to leave.
I get to the front of the line and pick out my Danish, though I’m not really hungry anymore. My stomach feels like it’s lead. True to his word, Asher grabs a Danish too and follows me out the café door.
“Please,” I finally say, spinning on my heels. I plead with my eyes. “Don’t keep doing this to me. You’re only hurting me, because I know this isn’t real. This won’t last.”
“God, Whitney.” His eyes bore into mine, and he reaches out to touch a strand of my hair. I make myself pull back.
“Please. I can’t do this with you again.” Those damn tears come back, spilling out on my cheeks.
“Fuck. Kitten. Don’t you know? Don’t you know that I’m so in love with you that leaving you again would break me?”
I begin to shake as I stare up at him.
He just told me he loves me.
Asher never said that before. And the one time I blurted it out back in the fall, he didn’t address it at all. Now he’s putting himself on the line, letting himself be vulnerable to me. Knowing I could tell him to screw off.
My heart gives an erratic thud. “What did you say?” I heard it. Just need to hear it again.
His smile is slow and warm and melts me like butter. He steps toward me and with the hand not holding the bagged Danish, he cups my cheek. “Kitten, I’m in love with you. You have me, heart and soul and body. And I will do anything to win you back.”
I bite my lower lip, gaze up at him. “I’m scared,” I confess. A stiff breeze rolls through and hits me full force. I shudder from the chill.
“I’m scared, too,” he says quietly. “But the things in life worth trying for are always scary. My heart is in your hands, Whitney Cavanaugh. You own me. You made my life better, complete, and I was wrong to treat you the way I did.” He pauses, and his thumb strokes my cheek, his hand warming my face. “I’m not perfect. I’m still going to fuck up. I just want a chance. One more chance.”
I nod. Swallow. “Okay.”
The relief that comes over him is palpable. He rests his forehead on mine, his breath panting in small clouds around our faces. “Whitney, I love you. I love you. I’ll tell you that every day, every minute, if you need to hear it.”
I shift my body closer to him until we’re pressed against each other. “It’s going to take me a while to feel comfortable and trust you fully,” I say. “But I’ll try.”
The last three weeks, Asher has been a complete gentleman—holding the door open for me, surprising me with flowers, sitting diligently by me as we study for our classes. A complete gentleman, and I’m frustrated as hell.
He hasn’t kissed me once. Not one damn time since he started at my school. It’s mid-February, almost Valentine’s Day, and my body is so tuned up for him that I can’t focus.
When he’s beside me in psychology, all I can do is watch his hands, those fingers gripping his pencil, remembering how they felt inside me. It makes me squirm, makes me wet. I need him.
Why isn’t he making a move?
Even right now, as I’m sitting at the cafeteria table across from him, picking at my dinner. Asher is chowing down. People are moving all around us.
I want to blurt out and ask him what’s going on, but I’m nervous to hear the answer. Because truthfully, this is super out of character for him. Asher used to make me feel like he couldn’t get enough of me. Now, I can’t tell what he wants.
“You don’t like your chicken? Should I return it to the kitchen?” he asks with a wink.
I roll my eyes. “Funny. No, I’m just not that hungry.”
His face goes serious. “You okay? You seem off lately.”
“I’m fine,” I say. After all, it’s not like I can tell him the truth, that I’m sexually frustrated and confused. I finally drop my fork. “I’m going to head to my room.” I don’t want to take out my mood on him. It’s not his fault. He’s doing everything right.
And yet it feels so wrong in a way. Not like him at all.
Asher stands with his tray.
I hold my hand up. “I’ll be fine, I promise. Have a good night.” My chest aches with my unspoken words, so I turn and dispose of my garbage, then toss on my coat and head out into the darkness of the evening. Campus lights flood the grounds, and my feet crunch across the snow-packed grass.
A hand on my arm stops my progress.
“Okay, spill it,” Asher demands.
I sigh. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
His brow raises. “Now who does that sound like? I thought we weren’t going to pull that shit.”
I suck in a cold breath
. “Fine. You wanna know what’s wrong? What’s wrong is you aren’t yourself. You’re being super courteous and gentlemanly and kind.”
His jaw drops. “So…you’re telling me that’s a bad thing?”
I shake my head. “God, it sounds so stupid. I just…” I rub a hand in front of my eyes so I don’t have to look at him. “You just don’t seem that passionate about me, and I’m not sure why.”
“Fuck.” Asher’s low growl is all the warning I get before I’m yanked against his chest, and then his mouth is hard on mine, his tongue plunging in me, slicking along my own tongue. Months of pent-up frustration and passion spill into our kiss. He clutches me like a lifeline, like I’m the only thing anchoring him to this world.
I grip him back, pour everything into it, my whole body rushing to life. God, finally, I feel again. I feel him and his heat and his desire. His arousal is pushing against my belly, letting me know just how much he’s feeling right now.
Asher tugs his mouth away and glares down at me. “You’re insane, you know that, right? I was trying to give you space and not push myself on you. I didn’t want you to think I was trying to chase you for ass or anything.”
My cheeks burn. Now that he says that, it makes perfect sense. “I am insane. Sorry.”
“Kitten.” He softens. “First of all, you never have to apologize to me. And second, I want you to be able to trust me. If I go back to the way I was, it won’t seem like anything changed.”
The vulnerability in him right now blows me away. He’s sincere. He really is afraid of me leaving him.
“But I like your passion,” I tell him quietly. “I miss it. It’s a part of you that made you who you are.” I pause and then say, “A part that I loved and still love.”
I haven’t said anything close to the L word since his confession. I’ve been too scared. But right now, I want him to know that I still feel it. I need him to know.
The molten lava pouring from his eyes, off his body, makes me ache all over.
“I love you,” I breathe.
He takes my mouth in another hot kiss that ends all too soon. Then he grabs my hand and leads me across the square.
“Where are we going?” I ask with a laugh, taking long strides to keep up with him.
“My apartment.” The words are said roughly, thick with his desire.
Oh, God. I haven’t seen his off-campus apartment yet. Anticipation floods my veins.
We head to the parking lot, and Asher practically peels out as he drives. One hand is clamped on my thigh, like he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he stops touching me. The gesture makes my heart soften even more.
We pull up in front of an apartment complex. He practically rips the car door open and drags me toward a first-floor apartment. Keys the door and once we’re inside, closes it and then reclaims my mouth again.
His fingers are insistent, working to undo my coat. “I fucking need you so badly I hurt,” he says on a groan against my mouth. “Fuck, baby, I’ve been desperate to touch you again.”
“Please,” I beg him, helping him undo my coat, then tug my sweater off. My hair goes flying everywhere and I don’t care. I reach for his coat. “Please, I crave you inside me, Asher. I’ve missed it.”
We dump our clothes right there in the living room and then we’re both naked, facing each other, panting, mouths swollen, hair mussed. Then Asher is on me again, his mouth dragging down my throat to suck on my breast.
I give a needy sigh and press closer to him. “Harder,” I say.
“Fuck yes,” he murmurs and then bites the flesh. Pain and pleasure mingle together and make me gasp, floods my pussy with a hot gush of liquid. “Did you miss this, kitten? My hands and my mouth hard on you, making you come?”
I whimper. “Yes. Please.”
He pulls back and he’s so turned on he almost looks angry. “I’m going to fuck you breathless,” he swears. He pushes me to the rug on the floor in front of the couch. “Spread those legs for me, dirty girl. I need to smell your pussy and taste you again. Right now.”
I’m shaking as I lower my knees toward the rug, parting my legs. Asher leans forward and draws in a slow breath, inhaling my scent.
“Sweet Jesus, you smell like heaven,” he says, his breath hot on my thighs. He leans forward and his tongue swipes my clit, and I jerk from shock and pleasure. His fingers stroke my entrance, then push in, making me cry out. “Scream as loud as you want,” he growls. “I want to hear you come hard for me, Whitney.”
“Make me yours,” I beg. In every way. I want to be all his. I want us to be locked together, bonded, tied intricately. I need him plunging inside me, our bodies as close as two people can be.
Asher moves up my body, his mouth kissing the whole way up, his fingers still inside me. He stares down at me. “It’s only you, Whitney. It’s always been you.”
I wrap my legs around him. “Please, I need you inside me right now.”
He stops fingering me and pulls out. “I gotta go get a condom.”
“I’m on the pill.” I rub my pelvis on him, letting him feel how wet I am for him, how turned on he’s made me. “Asher, it’s only you for me, too. It’s always been you.” I’m burning alive for him, devoured by my emotions, by the intensity of the moment.
“I will never hurt you again,” he vows as he presses his cock to my pussy. When he slides inside me, we both groan. “Oh fuck, Whitney, fuck. I’ve never done this before.”
“Me neither.”
Being each other’s firsts in this makes me feel like we’re sharing something powerful. Sacred. Asher looks down at me, reverent, stroking my hair as he withdraws and pushes back inside me again. Soon though, his arousal begins to spike, and he starts to thrust harder.
I dig my heels into his ass, urging him to ride me. “Yes,” I pant. “I want it.”
Asher tunnels his hand in my hair and yanks my head back, exposing my throat to him. “Yeah? You need me to fuck this pussy, kitten? Fill you with my come? You want it dripping down your thighs?”
The dirty words spur me on. I arch my breasts toward him, and he takes the hint, leaning down to bite my breast right above my nipple. I howl at the flash of pain, and then he sucks the flesh into his mouth and laves kisses all over it.
My orgasm is edging close. Asher’s hand tightens in my hair. He’s pounding me so hard he’s almost hitting my cervix. The sensation of his pelvis thrusting against my clit, the cock stroking my inner walls, it pushes me right to the edge.
Then he bites my chin between his teeth, and I shatter, my world focused on the orgasm that spreads like wildfire through my torso and limbs, and I cry out and buck beneath him, writhing like an animal.
“Yes, baby, fuck,” he growls as he moves to suck on my throat. “God yes, come all over my cock for me.”
I dig my nails into his back so hard that he flinches and makes a guttural sound. He shudders, pushes deep in me, and then his back is a board and he’s crying out.
“Whitney!” he says as he spills his seed inside me. “God, fuck, yes, fuck—” His words cut off in an inarticulate groan.
As our orgasms ebb, we lie there on his floor, our bodies tangled. My heart is racing so hard I know he can feel it, and I feel his heartbeat hammering against my chest, too. Our breaths are ragged, shallow, our skin slick with sweat.
Asher pulls out and then curls on my side. “Holy shit.”
I give a weak laugh. “Holy shit is right.” That was the most powerful sex I’ve ever had in my life. “I think we moved a mountain.”
Asher looks at me, a cocky grin on his face. “I hope that answers the question of whether or not I still want you.”
I roll my eyes and laugh louder. “Duly noted.”
Asher draws me closer and nestles me against his chest. I rest my head on his shoulder, wrap my arms around him, savor the feeling of our bodies together. The way we belong. “I love you with everything in me, Whitney,” he says. “I need you. And I’ll try my best to never let you down again. Yo
u mean the world to me.”
I kiss his chin, his jaw, his throat. “I love you too, Asher.”
We lay on the floor for a while, connected, spent, glowing in the aftermath of our insanely hot sex. And for the first time in what feels like forever, I’m home, right here in his arms. This is where I’m supposed to be. This is my path.
I can have everything I’ve ever wanted.
Asher
Three months later
“Thank fuck, finally,” I declare as I push the building door open and step into the courtyard. The semester is over. I worked my ass off to keep my grades high, and Coach is excited for us to start practicing this summer.
But first, I’m going home to Rock Bridge for the weekend. It’s been several months since I’ve seen my family except for a quick weekend when I came home for the baby’s birth, and I miss them.
I actually miss them.
We’ve stayed in touch, with Mom keeping me updated on how Rock Bridge is. She’s actually pretty funny, something I’ve discovered during our frequent talks.
Whitney, sitting on a park bench where she was waiting for me to finish my final, claps when she sees my shit-eating grin and takes my hand. I press a kiss to her palm, and she sighs. “Excited for summer break much?”
“I’m excited to have a full summer of fucking your brains out,” I tell her. Yesterday, we moved her belongings into my apartment. Next week, we’re going to pick out some décor, since according to her, I kinda suck at making a house feel like a home. Guess the bland walls and brown blanket in the bedroom aren’t working for her. I laughed and told her to decorate to her heart’s content.
This morning, I woke up with my girl beside me, and I knew I was the luckiest fuck in the world. I spent far too long lingering in bed, staring down at her, touching her soft hair. Everything could have gone so wrong. I could have stayed the way I was, a total fucking mess, fucking everything in my life up.
