Chapter 7 (Breslin)
Asher Holden has even bigger balls than I remember.
Why in the world is he not only acting like I owe him a conversation, but looking at me the way he is now?
Did the last 96 hours along with the last three years completely vanish from his memory?
When he finally peels his eyes from my tits and moves them up where they belong, I can't help but notice the cocky grin plastered on his stupid face.
His stupid gorgeous face.
A face that only seemed to get even more gorgeous over the years. Proving that Karma is not in fact a bitch, but a goddamn masochist.
I mean, is his jaw made of marble? And by God, if I stare too hard at those deep dimples or blue eyes of his any longer, I'll be in danger of melting into a puddle of goo just like all the other girls in the classroom.
But fortunately, or rather unfortunately for me—I know the poison that seeps from him.
I know what he can do to a person. His special brand of destruction that hurts worse than any physical scar ever will.
Therefore, I'm immune to his charm and looks.
I harden my gaze and steel every muscle in my body, silently warning him that if he says one stinking word to me I will kick him in the nads.
He clears his throat and takes the seat next to me and I honestly want to cry because this is the one class that I signed up for, for me. And somehow Asher Holden's managed to wreck that.
Just like he does everything else.
I cross my legs and his eyes follow, lingering on my exposed skin.
I'm now seriously regretting throwing on a dumb jean skirt when I went home to change between classes after the whole Landon event—but it was the only thing that was clean since I still haven't done laundry.
Because I was curled up in bed inconsolable for days...because of him.
I notice two girls staring at him and a light bulb clicks on. Turns out there's an easy solution to this whole debacle after all, because Mrs. Kennedy didn't say we weren't allowed to switch partners.
I lean over and give them both a sugary sweet smile. “Hey, would one of you mind switching with me?”
Shock crosses over their faces. “What? Why?” one of them ask dubiously, looking at me like I've lost my mind.
I ignore the look Asher gives me and shrug. “I'd just prefer to switch with one of you.” I hike a thumb in his direction. “We don't really mesh well. Bad chemistry and all that.”
Asher snorts and mutters something under his breath that I don't catch before he turns his head to look at them and sneers, “No.”
The dark tone in his voice has them sitting up straight in their seats and looking at one another.
And if that's not enough, Asher raises his hand. “Mrs. Kennedy?”
She stops in the middle of her lecture, looking only slightly ticked off as she glances down at the roster.
“It's Asher,” he says before she can. “And we can't switch partners, right?”
She cocks her head to the side and adjusts her glasses. “Is there some sort of problem?”
“Yes,” I shout at the same time he says, “Not at all.”
She opens her mouth and then clamps it shut, looking confused as all hell.
Asher takes the opportunity to continue, “It's just, am I correct to assume with this being college and not high school, that it's time for some of us to learn to work with people and adapt?”
He gives her a smile, dimples and all before he adds, “Kind of like art, right? I mean, not only does art help teach us the concept of problem solving, it's always changing and evolving. So, again, am I right to presume that an amazing teacher such as yourself would tell us that we aren't allowed to switch partners?”
Oh, good grief. Mrs. Kennedy practically grows a fucking hard on at that and I swear I can see little cartoon hearts circling her head.
She beams at him. “You would be correct to assume that.” She glares at me. “Whatever your issues are, young lady, I suggest you learn to deal with them outside of class. This is college, you are an adult. Please act like one.”
“Burn,” someone says from behind me and my cheeks turn hot.
I nod and she goes back to addressing the class—informing us about how our class time will be divided in half. The first half will be devoted to lecture; and the last half will be dedicated to focusing on our big project—a series of paintings that portray various depictions of love—which will count for half of our overall grade.
I blink back tears, sadness washing over me. This was supposed to be my time. I've been looking forward to this class for months...and now it's ruined.
When Mrs. Kennedy tells us that the rest of the class time is to be used to work on our projects, Asher cranes his head to look at me and his face falls. “Breslin.”
My insides begin to tremble. I detest the sound of my name on his lips. Just like I loathe the fact that he's the only one who calls me by my full name and has never once wavered and shortened it like others do.
But mostly? I hate the tender swell of emotion that fills my chest when I hear it.
Almost as much as I hate the way he's looking at me like I'm the only person in the world who exists.
Because Asher Holden can take me down with a single blow and we both know it.
And if I give him an inch—he'll take a nautical mile; because a regular mile just wouldn't be enough for him.
Mrs. Kennedy announces that we're allowed to walk around the campus for inspiration, but that we must report back and sign out with her before class ends. I don't waste another second, I stand up and take a deep breath before I march out the door, grateful that I can finally be out of his atmosphere.
“Breslin,” he calls out after me and I clench my hands into fists.
I will not let him see me cry. I refuse to.
I take a sharp left and continue charging down an abandoned hallway, looking for an exit sign, wishing his footsteps would fade instead of strengthen behind me.
When he has the audacity to try and reach for my hand, I stop short and face him. “What are you doing here, Asher?”
I curse the way my voice cracks on his name and the sadness in his eyes when he notices.
“Let's go somewhere to talk,” he says. “Because I want to tell you. I need to tell you everything.” He takes a step closer to me and attempts to reach for my hand again. “God, I've missed you so damn much, Breslin.”
The sick feeling in my stomach intensifies and my throat locks up. He looks so sincere, it's palpable.
I back away, my body in full on self-preservation mode, because I won't go down this road again.
I have so many questions for him...so many things that need explaining. Starting with what he told me on Prom night. The night that plays over and over in my mind like a bad record skipping. Just like what I walked into the other day does.
Even so—I'll sacrifice not knowing the answers for my sanity. Because it's the only way I know how to protect myself.
It's the only way I can cope with him standing in front of me.
Because I can't handle his truth. And I most definitely can't be sucked in again, I won't make it out alive this time around.
He searches my face, looking so innocent, so full of adoration and hope that I'm caught between wanting to wrap my arms around him and breathe him in like he's my only source of air—and wanting to rip his heart out of his chest and stomp on it.
God, I loved him so much. So damn much. I longed and prayed for him, I lived and breathed for him.
And every time I look at him, I'm reminded of that.
I know without a shadow of a doubt that I would have loved Asher Holden for the rest of my life if he let me. If he didn't break me.
Because there was a time that he was my alpha and my omega. My end and my beginning. My everything.
And the dangerous crushing ache in the center of my chest tells me that he still is.
But the overwhelming agony that rips through my heart, reminds me why he can't be.
“I don't want to know,” I whisper, taking another step back.
“Breslin—”
I hold up my hand, cutting him off. “Did you ever really care about me?”
His face twists. “Of course, I did. I love you. I have always loved you. It never went away, and it's never going to. You were the one who walked away from us, not me.”
I shake my head, because I can't bear to hear him try to rationalize everything and put his own spin on it when I know the truth. Because I live with the painful reminder every day.
And contrary to what he thinks—I didn't walk away because I wanted to. I walked away because he ripped us apart with his dishonesty and betrayal.
I should have been the first person he went to when he had feelings for anyone other than me. And Kyle should have been the last person he acted those feelings out with.
I raise my chin. “I don't know why you're here and I don't care to know. But if you ever really loved me like you claim...you'll do the right thing and leave Woodside.”
He opens his mouth, but I press on. “I need you to leave,” I whisper, and it sounds like a plea, because it is, from the very depths of my soul.
His face falls and he staggers back as if I hit him.
When he turns on his heels, I close my eyes and fill my lungs, relief washing over me.
That is until a force plows into me with enough horsepower to send me crashing into the wall behind me and lips capture mine.
“Not a fucking chance, Breslin. I just got you back,” he grunts between deep, consuming kisses that penetrate me all the way down to my marrow.
I feel myself start to free fall and then float when he pries my mouth open and stakes his claim.
There's no finesse in his kiss, it's pure greed. It's so powerful, I can't help but whimper as I cling onto him for dear life.
And that only makes him even more ravenous. His teeth nip at my bottom lip and I gasp for air. I've never needed a moment of lucidity like I do right now, but Asher won't grant me one. I scratch and slap the wall, fighting like hell to hold on to a firm foundation, torn between this fragile line of craving and complete disdain.
“You're kissing me back,” he murmurs against my lips.
Before I can answer, he hitches my leg around his waist. Our hips brush and I can feel how hard he is for me through the denim of his jeans and desire, the traitorous bitch; pumps through my veins.
He plants a trail of kisses along my jaw, sucking and biting my skin. “Fuck, I missed you so much, baby.”
Both the thick length of him nestled in between my thighs and his words zap me back to that night.
It's the exact reminder that I need to break the kiss and shove him away.
Too bad Asher Holden is made of granite and he doesn't budge.
Instead, he drops his head to the crook of my neck and inhales me.
“I love you bigger,” he whispers and something inside me unhinges.
Tears prickle my eyes, because I've missed his touch so much and the way it seems to bring all my nerves back to life. But not even my thirst can overshadow my haze of hate for him.
His big hand slides up my thigh, and my chest heaves against his hard one. Arousal licks at my skin, taunting me, making me its prisoner.
“Tell me you missed me too, Breslin,” he rasps, his voice sounding strangled, desperate even.
“I'd tell you, but I'd probably choke trying to get the words out,” I say deadpan, the bite in my tone a warning.
His jaw tics and he leans in, his lips caressing my earlobe. “Then why are you soaking my finger right now?”
I gasp when his knuckle brushes over my clit through my panties, purposely emphasizing his statement.
Anger flares in my belly, coating the desire I feel. I refuse to let this happen and there's only one way I can think of to derail this crazy train that's already in motion.
Licking my lips, I reach down and move my panties aside.
I feel his cock jerk when his gaze travels downward and his eyes focus like lasers to where I'm unabashedly touching myself.
I smile then, but it isn't with humor; it's because I know exactly what it is that I need to do.
When his lips part, I remove my finger and slip it inside his mouth.
His eyes close and he groans as he tastes me.
And that's when I loop my arm around his neck, pull him close, and whisper, “I'm only wet because I'm full of Landon's come from when he fucked me on his desk earlier.”
His jaw flexes and he bangs the wall beside my head, the look on his face is like nothing I've ever seen before.
I quickly maneuver out of his hold. “Leave me the fuck alone, Asher.”
I glare at him. “Actually, leave us both the fuck alone.”
Before you destroy him like you did me.
I try to dodge the curious look Kit shoots me when I walk in the door after classes end, but it doesn't work. “I don't remember laying that outfit out for you this morning.”
My teeth sink into my bottom lip and my cheeks flush. “I had to come home and change. I uh—sort of had an accident.”
Nearly two of them.
“Shit, are you okay? Need anything from the store?”
Before I can respond, she presses her hand to my forehead. “You don't feel warm.”
“I had sex with Landon,” I blurt out.
Her mouth hangs open and she blinks. “Like today?”
I nod and slink my way over to the bed. Since I value my hearing, I don't tell her about hooking up with Asher.
Plus, I'm positive I'll start bawling my eyes out if I do, so avoidance is key. I'll just pretend like it didn't happen and he doesn't exist.
She throws her hands in the air. “B, when I told you to talk to Landon—I meant with words, not your vagina.”
When I make a face, she walks over to me. “Did it at least clear anything up? Do you feel better? Did you get some answers?”
I shake my head. “No, if anything it only made things worse. I don't understand, Kit. I'm so lost.”
I fix the messy bun on top of my head and lean against the headboard, trying to gather the courage to ask her this. “How can he—” I look down at my hands. “Be so into me, but you know—suddenly be attracted to guys and stuff? I'm not trying to be offensive, I'm just trying to understand it all. Because today Landon and me—” I inhale a breath. “Well, we had the best sex we ever had...but how can that be possible when he's apparently...you know? How does it all work?”
I shrug helplessly. “Don't get me wrong, I have more serious issues I'm still processing and need to worry about, but I figure who better to ask than you about this one.”
She chews on her thumbnail. “Well you should be asking Landon, but I get how it can be confusing to other people.”
She takes out a notebook and a pen. “Think of sexuality like a scale.”
“A scale?”
“Yes.” She starts drawing a line on a piece of paper. “Now pay attention.”
And I do. I sit back and listen as Kit does her best to educate me for the next two hours.