It's the voicemail that's on the flash drive that my mother can't contest. She'll run out of excuses. She'll also give my dad a heads-up. I don't want him to know a thing before I see him face-to-face. If the past has taught me anything it's that my dad will cave first when the truth is staring him in the eye. He's the one I need to talk to.
I run my hands over my face, stopping to feel the bristle that's now thickening on my chin. I'm usually clean shaven. Some days I shave twice just to keep my jawline smooth. When I looked at myself in the mirror this morning after my shower, I saw a face that's changing.
Blaming it on the sparse beard would make sense but that's not what it is. I can't look at myself and see Asher Foster anymore, not since I heard that voicemail and realized that I'm not a Foster at all.
***
"Oh my God!" Her voice carries straight through Falon's studio and hits me full-on. "You're Asher Foster. Look, Jax. It's him. Just look."
I should have called when I was in the lobby of the building. If I would have, I might have avoided this. Now I'm fucked. I say that because there's a cute blonde racing across the studio towards me. The fact that she's doing that in four inch heels is fucking impressive.
"Ivy Marlow." I scoop her into my arms. "How the hell have you been?"
"You remember me?"
"How could I forget you?" I answer honestly.
I met Ivy and her husband at Caleb's wedding. Ivy's best friend is my sister-in-law, Bell. I wrote an original song as a wedding gift and after I'd finished singing it, Ivy came up to me while she was sobbing. It was, by far, the best reaction of the night. I'll never forget the way she looked with tears streaming down her face and her mascara running along with them.
"You know what they say about people who make it big." She wrinkles her nose. "They forget the little people."
"That's never going to happen." I look down at her. "Besides, you're one to talk about making it big. Your jewelry is everywhere right now."
"You're sweet and you're talented." She leans a touch closer. It's close enough that I can smell the lavender scent of her perfume. "You're really handsome now too."
"Now?" I lift my hand to the middle of my chest. "That hurts. What was I before?"
She laughs. "You were cute. You're different now. I'd say you're way…"
"I'm in the room, Ivy." Jax, her husband, taps her on the shoulder. "I'm standing right here. Try to control yourself, woman."
She laughs aloud then, turning on her heel to kiss him. I look past them and that's when I finally see what I came here for.
Falon's deep blue eyes meet mine and I watch as she draws in a quick breath, her hands stopping in mid-air as she holds tightly to her camera. She smiles at me and it feels like this is the only thing I need in the world right now. That is what drew me here. That smile and that face are all I want to think about today.
CHAPTER 11
Falon
The reason he's staring at me is obvious. My hair is straight. I look like a completely different person when I take an extra half hour in the morning to run a flat iron over my hair.
One of my sisters works as a hair stylist. I let her cut my hair once and that was enough. She cut my bangs to within an inch of their life, and my hairline. I had to wear hats for over a month until they finally grew out.
The lesson that taught me is that you get what you pay for when it comes to haircuts and shoes. I keep a log of excuses that I use whenever she tells me I need a trim. Instead, I visit a stylist down the street from here. She takes care of my hair and gives me the mini lectures I need to avoid damaging it. Hair dryers and hot irons are a no-no. She didn't need to warn me about the dangers of curling irons. I was blessed with a natural wave to my hair that transforms to a curl if I step anywhere near humidity.
Today, I straightened it with the hope that I'd see Asher again. He said he'd call, but judging by the fact that his days run well into the night, I knew there was a chance that somewhere in the next eighteen hours, my path would cross with his in person.
I lower my gaze before my mouth drops open or I shamelessly lick my lips. He hasn't shaved which makes him look even hotter than he did yesterday. Today he's wearing a white t-shirt and jeans. It's plain and on most men, it wouldn't merit a second look. It's not that way with Asher though. The whisper of toned abs is there beneath the tight shirt. His tattoos punctuate how muscular his arms are. The design is fluid and muted, as if he wants the world to understand something through the art on his skin. Something he's not willing to talk about.
When I look up again he's waving a hand across the studio at me. I reciprocate, aware that he's in a conversation with my clients. He knows them, apparently well enough that Ivy ran into his arms.
New York City is like that. It's filled with millions of people yet the degrees of separation are often miniscule. I should walk over and join in but I'm on the clock. I turn back towards the table and the handmade pink crystal bracelet that's next on the docket to photograph.
I drown out the sound of Asher's rich, deep voice behind me as he talks to Jax and Ivy and I focus on my work knowing that when they've packed up their jewelry and said their goodbyes, I'll be alone again with the man I haven't stopped thinking about since last night.
***
He glances at the door as it closes behind Ivy and her husband. He waited patiently on a chair in the corner while I worked. He chatted with Ivy, then Jax, about his upcoming tour and some of the new songs he's been writing.
They talked about a woman named Bell, who I gathered is related to Asher. He mentioned the name of a producer he worked with who Jax once met. I listened intently, wanting to absorb every trivial detail of his life that he was sharing with them.
To the three of them they were tidbits of a casual conversation but to me they were small avenues of insight into the life of one of the world's most famous faces.
"You were really patient with Jax." He sticks his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. "Are your clients usually like that?"
I smile as I turn away from him and towards the case I keep my camera equipment in. I remove the camera's lens, carefully placing it in its spot. "Jax is one-in-a-million. He's a perfectionist. I appreciate his attention to detail."
"You do?" He chuckles. "I have a few people like that around me. They drive me crazy. I can't tell you how often I've told them to go to hell."
"That's a luxury I can't afford." I turn back around to face him. He's moved. He's closer than he was before. "I have to be professional at all times. Your cousin taught me that."
"Noah?" he asks, nervous tension edging his voice. "I called him yesterday. I wanted to send your favorite flowers."
"They're gorgeous." I point to where I've placed the two large vases of roses on the ledge of the window. "Thank you again."
He steps even closer, there's less than a foot between us now. "I know I should have called before I showed up. It's just that I remembered you said you had some work today, so I thought I'd take a chance and see if you were here."
I hesitate for just a few seconds. I don't want to seem too eager, do I? Does it even matter at this point? He's here. He's close, so close. He wouldn't have come here if he didn't want the same thing I do.
There's this quiet, annoying voice coming from somewhere deep inside of me that's telling me that this is a horrible idea. I'm on the path I need to be right now. My business is more successful than I ever imagined it would be.
Kissing Asher Foster isn't going to change that, is it? I'll kiss him. He'll kiss me back and then we'll sleep together. He'll tell me that it's a one-time thing and then I'll go back to taking headshots of executives, or images of bracelets, or shoes or whatever else comes my way.
This isn't a big deal. It's just two people who are attracted to one another. I can't view it any other way. If I do, I'm going to get hurt and that's not something I have time or emotional space for right now.
Why the hell am I analyzing this to death? I'll kiss him. I
t's not like it's a lifelong commitment.
I'm not usually the one to grab the bull by the horns, or the rock star by the t-shirt but that's going to change now. I take a half-step closer to him, trying not to lick my lips too much.
He reciprocates by leaning forward, his hand jumping to my cheek. I melt into his touch. His hand is warm, soft and it cups my face with just the right amount of tenderness.
"I've wanted to do this since I got here," he whispers into the air between us.
I tilt my head to the left to align my lips with his. I feel my eyelids flutter shut as he leans even closer, his breath surging over my cheek.
I wait for it. My heart stalls for what feels like an impossibly long beat although it can't be more than a half-second. Every thought in my mind quiets to one single focus.
Asher.
The whisper of his breath against my skin.
The pressure of his hand as it races down my back.
And the sweet taste of his mouth as he seals his lips over mine.
CHAPTER 12
Asher
I was hard as soon as I walked into her studio and saw her. Her hair is straight; her face made-up although nothing she's put on it has stolen anything from what's underneath. She's beautiful. I'd say she's the most stunning woman I've ever known but those words don't reflect what I see when I look at her. They don't do her justice.
Her legs are gorgeous. She's wearing heels and shorts that are almost too short. When she bent over to adjust a light, the hem edged up and my cock swelled. The material moved but only to cup her ass more snugly. The flesh I long to see, and taste and bite, is hidden just under the fabric.
The shirt she's wearing is buttoned up enough to ward off the predatory eyes of any male clients but the black lace bra underneath holds the promise of small, but perky tits with nipples that respond each and every time the air conditioning here in her studio kicks into high gear.
They're hard again now as I kiss her. I can feel them pressed against my chest.
I lace my fingers through her hair, pulling her back from the kiss. Her mouth is wet, her lips swollen. The gloss on her lips is smudged making her look even more fuckable than she did when I first saw her.
She moans and it almost drops me right there.
"Fuck, Falon." I breathe her name out through a growl. "What the fuck was that? You kiss like…"
Her lips are on mine again before I can finish. I'm not complaining. Who the hell would?
I push her back until she's pressed against the wall. I'm greedier now. My hands start roaming. They're on a journey of discovery. I want to touch it all. I want to feel every inch of her, inside and out.
I want to fuck her right now, right here, pressed against this wall with her heels on, listening to her screaming my goddamn name.
I reach down, pulling the hem of her shirt from where she tucked it into the shorts. She responds with a roll of her hips against me. My dick is aching. It's so fucking stiff and if she doesn't stop making those mewling sounds, I'm going to lose it right here with my jeans on and my cock nowhere near where I want it.
I inch my hand up her stomach. It's tight, the skin smooth and soft. I cup her breast. I can hear the need in her moan. It's there in me too. The ache to be inside her is almost more than I can take.
I pinch her nipple between my thumb and index finger. I have to have it in my mouth. I have to lick it. I need to bite it. I want to feel her squirm.
"Stand still," I say, pulling back. "I'm so fucking hard. So fucking hard, Falon."
Her eyes drop to my jeans. Her hands are quick to follow. I have to take a step back because I know that even a slight graze of her fingers across my jeans is going to be too much. There's no way I'm going to blow my load like this. No fucking way.
I let out a slow breath. "You can't touch me."
"Why?" she asks sharply. "What did I do?"
I laugh. "You kissed me. You touched my skin. You look like that."
She smiles. It's not that brilliant smile she gave me when she first saw me an hour ago. This smile is contained. She knows. She knows what she's doing to me.
"What do you want me to do?" she asks innocently, as if she's never brought another man to the brink of insanity with just the taste of her lips and the sounds she makes. Fuck those sounds. How am I ever going to get that out of my mind now?
I shift on my feet, hoping the movement will move my cock into another position. I'm hard as fuck right now. I should tell her I want her to drop to her knees and take it down her throat.
She fidgets in front of me. Her hand tugging at the bottom of her blouse which is doing nothing but exposing her bra with each flick of her wrist.
I glance to the side. I need to think. I need to fucking think about what I want. I don't want to do this if I'm using her as a shelter from my pain. If I fuck her here, right now, she's an extension of all the vile anger and disappointment I'm feeling. I'll associate her with that forever. I can't do that. I won't do that. For some reason I can't explain, I actually like this girl.
"I want you to go out with me tonight."
Her hands busy themselves tucking her shirt back in. She doesn't say anything. She just meticulously puts herself back together again.
"Falon." I reach for her hands, cupping them in mine. "Go on a date with me tonight."
She clears her throat before she jerks her hands away. "I can't tonight. I have plans."
"Tomorrow, then?"
"I can't." She tilts her head slightly to look past me. "I need to get ready for another shoot I have in an hour. You should take off."
"What are you doing tomorrow night?" I ask because I have no idea what to say. I fucked this up. She was primed and aching. Her body was practically begging to be taken and I asked her to dinner.
She hesitates and I wonder if she's about to tell me to go to hell but she doesn't. "I don't like games. I get that some girls like the whole playing hard to get bullshit, but I'm not one of them."
"I'm not doing that." I close my eyes for a few seconds, wanting my breathing to slow down.
"You are." Her tone is accusatory, her expression more so. Her hands jump to her hips. "What was all that? You kissed me like you wanted me."
This is a first. I've never once had a woman push me to explain when I've pulled back. It's only happened twice in the past. The first time the girl was drunk. I wasn't and when her lips slid over my cock and she almost fell over, I stopped it right there. She might not have regretted it in the morning, but I would have.
The other time was with someone I never want to think about again. We loved each other, we hated each other and the second time we were together, and I was above her, staring down at her face, I knew that if I entered her again, I'd lose too much of myself. I got up, dressed and walked out.
This isn't like that though. This is nothing like that.
"I want you."
"You stopped." She speaks quietly. "I thought we were on the same page."
I'm so messed up right now that I want to hear her spell it out to me. I want to hear her tell me that she thought we were going to fuck. I want her to say that she thought I was going to drop to my knees and eat her out before I turned her around and took her hard against that wall.
"We're on the same page," I pause, trying to think of a way to salvage this.
Her eyes flash up to mine. "I think you should go."
"Change your plans and go out with me tonight, Falon," I say, straightening my stance. "We can do whatever you want. We can go to any restaurant in the city or I'll order something in."
"You're inviting me to your apartment?"
This woman is as stone faced as they come. I can't read anything in her tone or in the way her eyes are studying my face. I'm already chiding myself for not ripping her clothes off when I had the chance.
"I am," I say it with all the exuberance of a teenager asking a girl out for the very first time. "We can eat whatever you want."
She hesitates. "I can't c
hange my plans and tomorrow I'm going to Brooklyn to see my folks."
I'm not used to getting shot down like this. I can take rejection. It's part and parcel of trying to make it in the music industry but when a woman that I'm craving tells me she's not into me, that's an entirely different kind of dismissal.
"What's going on tonight?"
She shakes her head slightly, her gaze sliding over to the door of her studio. "I have a date, Asher. I can't see you tonight because I have a date."
CHAPTER 13
Falon
"You know that I would have completely understood if you wanted to cancel so you could bang Asher Foster." She laughs. "I would have cancelled on Jason's birthday dinner myself for a piece of that."
I grin at my best friend Maya. I haven't shut up about my afternoon with Asher since I got to her apartment. We were supposed to leave fifteen minutes ago for the restaurant but I've been spent the last thirty minutes whining about how he pulled back. "Jason wouldn't be into that. He doesn't seem like the type who is down for an open relationship, Maya."
"He doesn't even like an open bathroom door when he's taking a shower." She rolls her eyes. "He has some hang-ups. I'm not going to argue that point but he's gorgeous and he's hung. I mean the man has a huge penis."
I cover my ears and close my eyes in mock disgust as I sit on the edge of her bed. "I told you that I don't want to know about what's inside Jason's pants. That's your business."
"It's my neighbor's business now too," she admits. "They were banging on the wall again last night when he was drilling me."
Torn Page 5
