by Harper Sloan
“Oh God, I’m so sorry.” His eyes flash with embarrassment and sympathy, and I reach out to grab his hand—reassuring him that he hasn’t offended me.
“It’s okay. You didn’t know. I’ve had time to come to terms with it, and I’m excited for he or she to come.”
“I can imagine. I’ve got to say, if you hadn’t told me about the baby, I never would have guessed you were expecting.”
“Oh trust me, you can definitely tell. I swear, if my feet swell any more, I’ll end up barefoot before I even hit the halfway mark,” I laugh and go to take another bite of my burger when I notice that Phil’s gone oddly silent.
His eyes, which had a spark of heat behind them, are now full-out blaring.
“Are you okay?” I question.
He doesn’t say anything for the longest time. His jaw ticks a few times and his eyes just burn into mine. It isn’t until he reaches under the table with one tan forearm to obviously adjust himself that the alarm bells start going off.
And to think, it was going so well.
“Phil?”
“What? Oh, Jesus. I’m sorry. Look, I’m going to be honest with you because I feel like we should start our relationship with complete honesty.” He pauses, looks me dead in the eyes, and waits a beat. I’m still stuck back at relationship, so it takes me a second to realize that he’s still talking. “ . . . I don’t even know when it started.”
“When what started? I’m sorry. I spaced out there for a second,” I apologize.
“I can imagine. It’s pretty hot, isn’t it?” He wiggles his eyebrows, and I notice for the first time how perfectly shaped they are.
“What is pretty hot?”
“Tell me please. What color are they?” he practically pants.
“Phil, stick with me, okay? What is hot and what color are you talking about?”
Frustration is getting the best of me, and I can feel my crazy pregnancy hormones kicking in because I’m two seconds away from throwing my burger in his face. Which would be a shame because it really is delicious.
“Your toes. God, just the thought of them swollen and ripe has my mouth watering. I bet they’re red hot and juicy, aren’t they?” He hisses out a breath, and I can see his forearm flex.
I have to fight back a gag when I picture what his hand is clearly doing under the table . . . at the thought of my toes?!
“I can’t wait to get those little piggies in my mouth,” he moans. “Get them all wet and let you take over from there.”
“Excuse me?” I shriek, drawing the attention of the nearby tables.
He doesn’t even seem fazed when his eyes darken even more. “Babe, let’s get the check. My ass is clenching just imagining you sticking those feet near my body.”
Holy. Shit.
There is no freaking way he is serious right now.
“It’s got you hot, doesn’t it? Thinking about me sucking on your feet until your toes, your swollen toes, are nice and wet? It has me so turned on right now that I bet I won’t even need to use lube this time.”
“Phil, I think you have definitely got the wrong impression here. These piggies aren’t going anywhere near any hole you have in your body.”
Looking around frantically, I catch the eye of our waitress and signal that we need the check. I look over at Phil—disgusting, perverted, foot-fetish Phil—and pray that she hurries the hell up.
CHAPTER 10
Asher
I’ve been in a foul mood since Chelcie and I shared that kiss. All I can think about is how she melted into my body, just as hot as I was to see where that kiss was going. The last thing I’d expected was for her to pull the emergency brake on it.
How she can possibly think that I find her anything close to chubby is beyond me. Her body has curves in every place that is meant to drive a man wild. Just thinking about my hands holding her hips as I take her . . . Goddamn, it’s the hottest thing that’s been playing on repeat since the first time I saw her bend over to pick something up.
Those hips, that ass—fuck me. She’s one hundred percent woman and I love every single inch of it. For the first time in my life, I want a woman who wants nothing to do with me. I crave her, and I have the worst feeling that I’ve done something to make her doubt that.
The fleeting memory of her standing in front of me with tears raining down her face flashes through my mind momentarily, there one second and gone the next. I know I’ve made a lot of mistakes, I’ve drunk too much, and there are so many holes in my mind that I fear I might have done something during one of my drinking benders that has done permanent damage to the relationship we started to form.
Before I can analyze the thought any further, my phone starts to ring.
“Dee?”
“Oh, dear Asher James. How are you this fine day?” she sings through the line.
“Uh, I’m fine. How are you?”
“Fine, just fine. So tell me—what are you doing today?”
She’s up to something. Dee’s been up my ass since we met, always trying to meddle in my business, and this phone call is screaming devious Dee.
“About to head over to the gym. Why?”
“Well, see . . . I’m over at Sway’s getting my hair done and the guys are all real busy. Is there anyway that you could swing over to Fat Jacks and grab us some burgers? I’m really—really—in the mood for some of their burgers.”
“You want me to get you lunch? Doesn’t Sway have staff there that takes care of that crap for you?”
Unbelievable.
“Oh. They’re all out right now. You know, slow day, so he told them to go out and enjoy a long break. It’s just a few of us here.”
Right.
“What about Davey? Pretty sure he wouldn’t mind grabbing his boyfriend, and you, some food.”
She’s silent for a second. Then I hear the phone rustling against her hand, her muffled voice talking to someone near her.
“He’s out. Sick.”
“He’s sick?” I question, knowing damn well that she’s full of shit but curious enough to wonder what she’s playing out.
“Yup. So Fat Jacks?”
“Dee, cut to the chase. What are you up to?”
“Shit,” she hisses.
I can hear Sway yelling at her in the distance a few seconds before the phone is clearly ripped from her hands.
“Asher, you tall glass of water, did you miss me? Of course you did. Look, what Dee here is so clearly terrible at is subtlety. I’m going to be honest with you, okay?”
“Yeah.” As curious as I am, I can feel it coming. I just know that whatever is coming is going to set some sort of ball rolling, especially if Sway has a part in it. I just have to hope it’s a calm situation they’re about to get me into.
“Sway here has noticed recently that you’ve got those sexy cerulean eyes trained on our fine little Chelcie. Oh yes, I noticed those fireworks shooting all over the place, and it’s a wonder no one got burned. So Sway here is doing you a favor, darling. I just got word from little miss Denise that Chelcie is currently on a date. As we speak, she’s sitting that lush body down and having a meat-filled lunch. So if you want to make sure the only meat she’s partaking in is the burger variety, I suggest you take those hot buns and get over to Fat Jacks. You got that, love?”
That ball that’s been sitting in my gut, slowly burning hotter at each word he has spoken, is starting to uncoil, spreading a wrath like no other to have spread throughout my body. My woman is out with another man? Oh. Hell. No.
I click the phone off before grabbing my keys and storming out the door. Maddox looks up from grabbing his duffel off the floor, his eyes questioning the mood that is following me out the door. I vaguely hear him remind me that I’m watching Cat again until he gets home. Not willing to waste a single second on the fucking elevator, I start running at full speed down the twenty-seven flights of stairs.
The only thing I have my mind set on is getting to Fat Jacks as quickly as I can and claiming
MY woman.
For fucking good.
CHAPTER 11
Chelcie
He’s still looking at my toes.
My skin is crawling with the way he’s looking at my poor toes. I’ve tried everything to shift his attention from my feet, but he literally just moved closer and is looking under the table . . . at my feet.
I’m cursing my outfit now. Earlier today, it seemed like a good idea to wear the cute, new open-toed flats I’d picked up. I haven’t worn them yet, and I loved the way my red-painted toes peeked out of the shoe. They made me feel sexy before. Now, all I want to do is find about ten pairs of socks and hide my feet for the rest of my life.
“Oh God, flex them again,” he slurs.
I wouldn’t have been able to stop the gag that came bubbling out if I’d had a gun pointed to my head.
“Please stop,” I beg.
“Let me touch them,” he wheezes, and before I can stop him, he has my ankle in his hands, my foot in his lap, and my shoe popped off and he is basically masturbating my big toe.
The burger I had so lovingly devoured not even ten minutes ago is churning in my stomach. Unwilling to cause a scene, I squeeze my eyes closed and pray that I will just die on spot.
“Get your fucking hands off my woman.”
My eyes snap open at the venom-filled voice at my back.
“Drop her goddamn foot now before I rip your hands off your body.”
The danger in his threat causes me to shiver, and his hand is immediately at the base of my neck. His fingers curl and flex against my skin, causing me to shiver again. All thoughts of my poor, molested toes completely fly out the window.
“Being as she is here as my date, I think it’s safe to say that she isn’t your woman.”
Oh what an idiot.
“You have two goddamn seconds to remove your hands before I take your fingers and break each one. Then, when I’m done, I’ll snap your wrist before moving to your fucking elbows. And if I feel like being nice, I might leave your arms at that. She. Is. Mine.”
I try to remove my foot from his hold, but his fingers clamp tightly around my ankle, causing me to whimper from the pain. Neither one of them notices, but as the tension climbs between the two of them, Phil’s fingers get tighter and tighter.
Asher’s hand is still holding me at the base of my neck, and it feels as if the two are having some weird tug-of-war minus the tug. I whimper again when Phil’s fingers get even firmer against my skin. I can feel my toes, those damn toes, starting to tingle with the loss of blood flow, and just when I thought his hold couldn’t get any more painful, he proves me wrong.
The raw cry that escapes my lips shocks even me and has both of the men whipping their eyes in my direction. Phil takes my cry as one of pleasure, and I can see him puffing out his chest. Asher comes around, not removing his hold but curling his fingers up the side of my neck and holding my cheek in his palm. His eyes look into mine for a beat. I can see the vehement intensity of his anger in those beautiful blue eyes. His gaze travels down my body until he sees the cause of my pain. When he looks quickly back up at me, I see the danger in his observation. He never breaks his stare. I see his other hand move in my peripheral, but I don’t dare break the connection to him.
I hear Phil cry out in pain a second before my leg is dropped. Asher doesn’t waste a second. After pulling out his wallet, he throws a few bills down then scoops me up in his arms and marches out the doors. I duck my head in the crook of his neck, running my nose along his warm skin and feeling safe.
Safe and protected.
He doesn’t say anything. Walking with a steadfast determination to his Jeep, he unlocks the door with ease then sets me gently down before buckling my belt and jogging over to his side.
And just like that, we’re taking off towards the apartment at a speed that matches the rapid beats of my heart.
CHAPTER 12
Asher
I can’t stop the rage that has fully consumed my every emotion. I can’t even focus without seeing a red haze clouding my vision. When I walked through those doors and saw that motherfucker’s hands on Chelcie, I believed myself capable of murder. Cold, hard murder, and I didn’t give a fuck that I had witnesses surrounding me. My soul was demanding that I claim what is mine—that I tear that piece of shit to pieces for even breathing her air.
He’s lucky the only thing I did was snap his wrist to get him to remove his hold on her body. That still didn’t satisfy the primal animal that is snarling to be set free. It’s the same feeling I get when I think about what happened to Coop. That need to wrong a right, to claim what’s mine.
Images of Chelcie, her eyes closed and his fingers touching her feet, bombard my mind again, and I swerve my Jeep over a few lanes. Pulling off onto the shoulder of the highway, I rip off my seatbelt and jump out of the Jeep before slamming the door with enough force to rock the whole vehicle.
I’m fighting every instinct in my system to turn the car around and kill. I’m at war with myself and I am too out of control to correct it. I need to claim, to mark, and to prove that she is mine.
I pace back and forth in short successions before stopping in my tracks and whipping my head around to look back at Chelcie. I was expecting her anger, but when I look back and see her curled forward with her shoulders shaking violently, I immediately rush back to the Jeep. This time, I bypass my door and jerk hers open. She shoots up and hiccups a sob before crumbling again. This time, it isn’t herself she is escaping to. No, she lunges forward, almost falling out of the Jeep, and wraps her arms forcefully around my neck.
Pulling my hips back slightly, I move her body so that her legs are hanging out the side of the Jeep. I push them lightly apart and step in between her thighs. She immediately wraps her long legs around my hips and all but crawls inside my body. I stand there, running my hands down her back, and let her take every ounce of strength I have in my body. I can feel her trembling against me, her tears soaking my shirt, and her heaving breath against my neck. I just keep running my hands down her back and press my lips to her head. The feel of her body and the smell that never fails to make me roll my eyes in yearning combined with the adrenaline that is still thundering through my body does nothing to help ease the need I feel to claim.
To make her mine.
Without speaking a word, not trusting myself to even open up my mouth, I reach my hands up and unwind her body from mine. She looks up at me with confusion before shock takes over her features and she jerks her body back in the seat.
“Don’t even think about it,” I seethe.
Her eyes flash, but she visibly tries to relax her protective posture.
I take a few steadying breaths before I walk back to the driver’s side and pull back into traffic.
It’s time that Chelcie and I have a long, overdue chat. I want to know what the hell she’s hiding, and more importantly, I need to make sure she understands just where the hell things stand between us.
* * *
The drive back to the apartments doesn’t take long in reality, but with the thick anticipation of what is to come coating the air around us, it feels like hours. Chelcie hasn’t spoken, not one word.
Her silence is alarming. I’m used to her sweet murmurs—the snarky bursts of fiery attitude she normally keeps closed off from others—and most importantly, that deep-rooted desire that is usually blazing in those brown-gold pools.
I hate this closed-off, scared version of her, and I’m almost afraid to believe that it could be me she’s afraid of.
We pull up, park, and silently make our way past a smiling Joe and into the elevator. She goes to press the button for her floor, but I grab her lightly, pulling her flush with my body.
“No,” I growl, the primal sound shocking even my own ears.
“Please,” she pleads, her eyes round with what I can only guess is panic.
“Sunshine, would I ever hurt you? Get that look off your beautiful face,” I murmur. Lightly pressing my lip
s to hers, I take a deep, reassuring breath when I feel her body relax slightly in my arms.
“You scare the ever-loving shit out of me, Ash. We need to talk, and right now, I’m just trying to take a moment to get over the fact that when you hear what I have to say . . . you could hate me forever.”
“A little dramatic, don’t you think?”
She doesn’t say anything, just looks up at me with pain very evident in her eyes.
Even with the anger from Fat Jacks still surfing through my body, I can feel the trace of apprehension starting to take hold of my skin.
“You don’t get it, Ash. There are things I haven’t told you, things that could change the way you think you feel for me. Things that could change everything, and I have no clue how to get past this. Don’t you see? Don’t you see how much you mean to me? I’m not sure I could handle you not wanting to be a part of my life anymore—even if it is just as friends.”
My brow creases with her words. “You’re going to realize real soon that when I say you’re mine, I mean it. We’ve been dancing around this for way too long.” The earlier feelings of uncontrollable anger over her being out with another man threaten to take hold of me again. It’s taking every thread of control to keep myself calm. To stop myself from throwing her on the floor of the damn elevator and showing her just how mine she really is. “And before the day is over, there will be no fucking doubt in that pretty little head just how much I mean that.”
Her eyes darken, but not out of the desire I wish I saw. No, this time they get darker with her sadness, and I wish there was something, anything, I could do to take that from her.
Chelcie
While sitting in the car on the way back to the apartments, I busy myself with trying to figure out what just happened. I’m almost positive that Asher just . . . claimed me? My ankle is killing me from where crazy Phil had his hands crushing deep into the muscles and tendons. I’m pretty sure I’m going to have a huge welt-like bruise when I get a good look at it.
