by Kreig, K. L.
“Asher…” His name comes out on a breathy exhale.
Hot kisses are scattered up one inner thigh and down the other before he takes my cloth-covered clit in his mouth and sucks. I barely catch the cry his wicked move forced from my lungs. “So fucking tempting,” he rumbles right before he scoops me off his desk and onto his lap, holding me tight.
Confusion rattles my brain and embarrassment tightens my skin. This is the second time in just days I’ve practically thrown myself at him and the second time I’ve been gently let down. That is definitely not good for my fragile feminine ego.
Ugh.
“Hey.” His finger hooks under my chin, forcing me to look at him. I shift my eyes. “Alyse, look at me,” he demands. Reluctantly, I do, because as with every other time he gets that bossy tone, I want to comply. I want to please him.
God, I hate myself. I am not this weak woman who wants to do a man’s bidding. I’ve been nothing but strong my entire fucking life. I’ve suffered heartbreak, death, abandonment. I survived my own debilitating depression, twice. I started my own business right before my twenty-fourth birthday, for Christ’s sake.
I am woman. Hear me roar.
But around Asher, I just want to let it all go. Around him, I can set my heavy burdens down and take a much-needed rest for the first time in my entire life. I don’t feel like I have to be that strong woman I pretend to be with everyone else.
“Do not doubt how much I want you. I’m in utter misery with want. But, God, I have to do this right. For the first time ever with a woman, I need this to be right.”
Leaning down, he snares my lips in a gentle kiss and just like that, my awkwardness dissolves in a cloud of mist, replaced strangely enough with peace.
I try to sit up and gain some distance, but his arms tighten. “I—This is not who I am, Asher. I’m like a completely different person around you.”
Cupping my cheek so I can’t look away, he shakes his head, a smile tugging on his lips. “This is exactly who you are, Alyse. I don’t know how you keep the real you hidden from everyone else, including Livia, but you do. You’re very good at it; I’ll give you that. Even better than the last time I last saw you.
“But I saw into your soul the very first time I looked into your eyes eight years ago and I still see it now. It’s darker, worn around the edges, but Jesus, it’s brilliant. It’s magnetic. I see my reflection in it. This is exactly who you are, Alyse, because with me, you can let your guard down and just be you.”
I’m captivated. Every word is a warm ray of sunshine that settles on my skin and seeps into my pours. It fills those lonely parts of me I don’t like to acknowledge. It makes me feel lighter. Happier. Greedily, I want more of it.
“How do you know?” I’m not even sure what I’m asking, but Asher does.
Smiling gently, he pecks the tip of my nose. “I know, because that’s exactly how you make me feel.”
“Asher.” I let his name linger, because I don’t know what to say. I’ve known him for so many years. I know so many things about him, yet I don’t know him at all. Except I can’t help but feel that it doesn’t really matter, because I do. It’s like my soul recognizes him as mine. It’s confusing and may not make a lot of sense to anyone else, but it makes perfect sense to me. Everything he’s said is true. I can be myself with him. I always have. It almost feels like my person, the one I’ve been looking for my whole life, has been under my nose the entire time.
“Let me in, sweet Alyse,” he tells me softly.
I swallow hard. Unwelcome tears prick and a traitorous one escapes, rolling slowly down my cheek. “I’m not sure I know how.” My voice is quiet and it cracks upon my weighty confession. I wasn’t even this truthful with Finn and I was with him for a year. It gives me hope that maybe I’m not a lost cause after all.
Asher’s smile puts me at ease. His thumb wipes away evidence of my vulnerability, which is making me nauseous. “I have my own issues, Alyse. My own trouble letting a woman close. But I can honestly say I’ve never wanted to try more than I do with you.”
I’m quiet, absorbing his confession. “Okay.”
He nods, pressing a prolonged kiss to my hair. “Okay.”
I take this as my cue to leave, but he pulls me back into his lap and settles my head on his shoulder. “I’m not ready to let you go yet.”
Good. I’m not ready to be let go. I don’t think I ever will be.
After a couple beats, he asks, “How was your meeting? Did you get what you need to start?”
“This doesn’t feel very businesslike,” I tease, running my fingers up and down the buttons of his grey dress shirt, unable to stop myself from touching him.
“You are far more than business to me, Alyse Kingsley.”
Good answer.
I finally grasp the courage to ask him a question that’s been plaguing me since last Monday when I figured out Asher was coming to see me. “Did you hire me because you wanted to sleep with me?”
He laughs. Not the response I was expecting.
“I’d be lying if I didn’t say yes, but that’s not the only reason I hired you.” He sits me up so we’re looking eye to eye. “Nothing I said in our meeting last week was untrue. I did do my homework and I’ve heard nothing but rave reviews about you and your company. I’ve never wanted to get a woman in my bed as much as I do you, Alyse, but I would never put my company in jeopardy to do that.”
“Thank you. It means a lot that you put your trust in me.”
“You have no idea,” he mutters right before he kisses me again. Just as Asher deepens it, his assistant’s voice echoes through the speakerphone.
“Asher, Mr. Grandy is here for your lunch appointment.”
He sighs. “Give me five minutes, Tara.”
“Yes, sir.”
I glance at the clock to see that it’s already almost noon. I’ve spent nearly an hour in Asher’s office doing nothing but flirting. The sweet ache between my thighs will have to wait until later to be assuaged, I guess.
Helping me off his lap, he tells me, “I’ll be tied up for the rest of the day. Is there anything you need from me?”
“Ah, no. I have what I need to start.” I run my hands through my long hair and underneath my eyes, trying to make sure I don’t look like I’ve just almost been fucked before walking out of the boss’s office.
“You look gorgeous, Alyse.” He leans down to my ear. “Desire is a good look on you. The flush of an orgasm will look even better.”
“Oh God,” I groan, unsure if I’m embarrassed or turned on.
“Seven,” he says with a peck to my lips.
“Seven.”
I’m about halfway to the door when he calls, “And, Alyse, to be clear, you will be in my bed tonight.”
My steps falter, but I don’t turn and I don’t reply. He doesn’t expect one.
God he’s bossy.
Why do I like that so much?
Chapter 12
Asher
“I can’t believe you live in this building and didn’t tell me.”
That’s because you probably would have said no to my proposal. “You didn’t ask,” I reply, putting the finishing touches on the salad. I could give a fuck about dinner; what I’d rather be eating is her. I spent the entire rest of the day in a state of semi-hardness, which did not go unnoticed by Phil Grandy. And since he plays for the other team that was one awkward lunch.
“Are you sure I can’t help?”
“No, baby. This is my treat.”
I can’t believe how easily that endearment just rolls off my tongue with her. Even more, how she lets me say it without putting up a protest. Besides Natalie, I haven’t used an endearment on another woman. And I wish I could stop comparing every fucking thing I do with Alyse to Natalie, because she is not her. She could never be her.
I already see that Alyse is trustworthy. Maybe I’m a fool, but I can’t imagine she’s the type of woman who would ever cheat. I had my doubts about Natalie from
the very beginning, but I was in love with her. And love truly does blind. I ignored all the signs, all the warnings, all the neon fucking flashing lights. I made excuses. I rationalized.
I was stupid.
“Okay, soup’s on. I hope you like chicken. I should have asked.”
“I do.” She smiles. “I’m not terribly picky.”
I set two plates containing chicken piccata over brown rice and fresh green beans on the table, along with a loaf of sliced multigrain bread and arugula salad. Two glasses of my favorite Chardonnay await our consumption. I’ve set the mood, going all out. Candles, low lights, some sultry music playing softly in the background. I don’t need it, because we both know where tonight will end, but I wanted to do it.
I want to fuck Alyse. Badly. The need to take her in a hundred different ways is almost animalistic. The things I want to do to her would scare her if she knew. I am demanding and I am adventurous. There are certain things I enjoy that not just any woman would go for and I want them with her. I want her to want them. At the same time I’m terrified she won’t.
I can’t believe I denied her earlier today, but the first time I’m inside of her is not going to be on my desk. As much as I want to ravage her, I also want to romance her. I don’t want her to think I’m only in this for sex, because while I can’t wait to get her underneath me, I want so much more from her than just her body. I want her heart.
It makes mine palpitate a bit when I think about how much I really genuinely like this woman already. The more time I spend with her, the more I know I could easily, so very easily, fall in love with her. Hell, if I’m honest with myself, I’m already falling.
“Where did you learn to cook?” she asks, taking the seat I’ve pulled out for her.
“My mom,” I reply, taking my own chair.
“Really? You actually spent time in the kitchen with your mother learning to cook?”
“Didn’t have a choice.” I sip the buttery wine before cutting into my chicken. “She made all of us learn. We each had to help with one meal during the week.”
“Really?” She’s smiling, but it’s sad. I don’t know much about Alyse’s childhood, but I do know Alyse and Livia’s mother walked out on them, leaving them with a deadbeat, gambling addict father to raise them.
I can’t imagine growing up without my mom, who taught me so much that I’m still only realizing it now as an adult. Knowing Alyse didn’t have one to teach her to do simple things like cook or ride a bike, let alone do the more important stuff like build her self-esteem or handle conflict makes me ache for her. I, on the other hand, had an idyllic childhood, at least until Luke started with all his bullshit.
My brothers and I were raised by great parents who loved us and had morals and a great marriage. We went to church, we gave back to the community, and we were a tight family unit. Still are today.
As much as I want to talk about Alyse’s upbringing, I want tonight to be about beginnings, not sadness. I try to lighten the mood. “Really. Of course, we all hated it at the time, except for Luke. Luke loved to cook. And he was good.” I laugh remembering some of the inventive meals he and my mom came up with.
“Well, I’d say she taught you very well, too, because this is excellent.”
“Thanks.” I smile. “My mom always said a woman loves a man who knows what he’s doing in the kitchen.”
“Well I would agree with your mother.” Her eyes drop shyly down to her plate. “What’s your specialty? Your favorite thing to make?”
“Lasagna. Or anything pasta, really. Whenever it was my turn to cook, I always wanted to make spaghetti, but my mom made me branch out into other food groups.” She nods, but doesn’t respond. “Can you cook, Alyse, or am I going to have to do all the cooking in this relationship?”
She studies me for a few heartbeats like she’s trying to dissect my question. “Is that what this is? A relationship?”
“Is that what you want?” Jesus, please say yes. I have spent the last four years trying to avoid relationships of any kind. One or two “dates” was all I would allow, then I’d move onto the next one. I think I took one woman out three times, and when she asked if I wanted to go away for a weekend…well, I made sure she saw me out with someone else. So the fact that I’m sitting here silently begging her to say yes is not lost on me. I want from her what I’ve denied anyone else for years.
And Christ…I want it badly.
I watch her struggle to speak and I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until after she quietly says, “Yes.”
I nod. We’re silent for a couple of minutes while we enjoy the meal I cooked especially with her in mind.
“Do you?” she asks softly.
“Do I, what?”
“Want a relationship?”
I think about how to respond without scaring her. I want so much more than just a relationship. I want her. All of her. Every fucking part of her.
Every thought.
Every memory.
Every secret.
Every dream.
Every fantasy.
Every breath.
I want every waking and sleeping minute to belong only to me. I want her heart, her very fucking soul. I want it all.
Never in my life have I wanted someone to be wholly mine more than Alyse.
“Yes.”
Her smile is magnificent. Like a thousand brilliant suns raining down on me at once. My cock is stone hard at the thought I will be inside her within the hour. I didn’t prepare dessert, because I plan on that being Alyse. Spread out on this very table. I want to reach out and touch the silky skin of her face. Only if I do that I won’t stop, and for now, I want to talk. I want to know everything about her.
“You never answered me. Can you cook?”
She laughs. “Somewhat. I can follow a recipe, but I have no creativity when it comes to the kitchen. I make a mean Rice Krispies treat, though.”
“Do tell? I’m a sucker for those.”
“I’ll remember that.” She winks. “Do you like living in Chicago?”
“God, yes. I love it. I work so much, I don’t have a lot of time to do as many extracurricular activities as I would like, but the food here is second to none, they have great running trails right along the lake, and everything I need is within a five-mile radius from here. Add to that a great, centrally located airport and there’s nothing else I need. Almost,” I add, winking, pulling the smile out of her I long to see.
Yes, the only thing missing is sitting right across from me.
“Have you spent much time here?” I ask.
“I’ve been a couple of times, but I’m not too familiar with the city.”
“Well, I look forward to showing you around.”
“Me too.” She smiles.
“So, tell me about your business.”
She nervously pushes the food around on her plate. I suddenly feel like I’ve asked a taboo question. “What do you want to know?”
“Anything you want to tell me,” I confess. Because at this point, I’ll take anything Alyse will give me. I have a feeling I’m going to have to pull every shred of information I want to know from her. If I thought I felt exposed with this scary, dark, curvy road we’re headed down, it’s nothing compared to the vulnerability that wafts off her in crashing waves. Fuck if I ever thought I’d be the one driving a relationship forward, but here I am.
And I’d floor the gas if I didn’t think it would scare her away.
We spend the next twenty minutes talking about ARK Consulting. I learn Alyse’s middle name is Renee, after her mother, hence her firm’s name. I learn Alyse has had this idea since her first year in college and by the time she graduated, nearly two years early, she already had a solid business plan written and reviewed by a couple of her professors.
By the time she obtained her master’s, she had secured a small business loan, with the backing of her previous employer. But what I was most impressed with was the long-term business plan she created. Within
one year, she’s doubled her staff, and within five, she plans to have at least a dozen auditors and to triple her profits. That’s pretty damn impressive for a twenty-five-year-old who grew up basically without parents.
“And are you on track to meet your long-term goal?” I’m genuinely interested, but I’ve also been exploring adding an audit firm to the CFC portfolio of services. Suddenly, I’m wondering if Alyse’s diamond-in-the-rough firm is possibly what I’ve been looking for. I’ve evaluated two or three companies over the last few months, but none of them fit our organization for one reason or another.
I wonder, after this project is over, if I should consider discussing this possibility with her, or if she’ll take it as a slight. Or, God forbid, a failure on her part. I would never want to make her feel that way, but I’m also still a businessman and this smells like it may be a ripe opportunity. And a very good fit in more ways than one.
“Well, this job certainly helps.”
Hmmm, there’s a story there, but one that I don’t want to pursue tonight.
“You done?” I ask. She’s eaten most of her meal, which I appreciate. I hate a woman who doesn’t feel like she can eat in front of a man and then goes home to scarf an entire carton of ice cream. It’s fake and I detest fakery.
“Yes, but I can get it. You cooked.”
She stands, trying to take the plates, but I grab them from her. “No. Sit. I’ve got it.”
But she doesn’t. She grabs the breadbasket and the salad bowl, following me into the kitchen. We quietly busy ourselves cleaning up, and it feels very domestic. Comfortable. I like it.
Immensely.
Taking her hand, I lead her into the living room, sit on the chaise part of the sectional, and settle her by my side. She hooks a leg over mine and our eyes are drawn to the fire roaring away behind the thin protective glass. Orange, red, and yellow flames throw shadows that dance seductively in the dark, taunting us to join them in writhing on the floor.
As if by divine intervention, Adele’s gravelly voice starts to croon “One and Only.” I’ve never really stopped to listen to the words before, but now that I do, I think each feels like they were meant for us in this very moment in time.
