Chapter 13 – Chelcie
“How did you know I was there?” I question when Asher all but slams the door, trapping me in a room I’m not quite sure I want to be in. Well, that’s a lie—my body wants to be here, but my mind wants to run.
He doesn’t turn around right away. He stands at the door, his hands braced on the thick wood and his breathing hard and heavy. His very presence alone is so strong and demanding that the air around us feels alive.
I wouldn’t have been able to control the thick shudder that flies through my body if I’d tried.
“Dee—well, Sway. Dee and Sway.”
He still doesn’t turn around, and it takes just a second for the blinding anger to take over my body. Damn them!
“Don’t be pissed at them, Sunshine. I’m damn happy they let me know where to find you. Tell me—did you like that asshole touching you?” He finally turns, and the look on his face causes me to take a giant step back.
He stalks me—predator to his prey—and I keep matching him step for step until my ass hits the wall. My shoulders pressed back as much as I can—praying that the wall will just swallow me whole.
“I’ll tell you how it made me feel. Walking in to see his fingers closed around your slim ankle, the look in his eyes when he was lost in whatever fantasy held him captive…to see another man with his hands on my woman… Do you want to know how I felt? Look at me,” he demands. “I felt a depth of wrath I didn’t know existed. A red-hazed fury chanting at me to kill. I wanted to rip his arms off his body and beat him with the hands that dared to touch WHAT. IS. MINE.”
I gasp. Of course I do. My words have completely left me. He just looks at me, those beautiful eyes that show so much of his emotions just taking me in. The emotions crossing his face go from angry to blazing with desire in a matter of seconds, and before I can even get a word out, his lips are feasting on mine.
This kiss blows anything we’ve ever shared out of the water. This is a hungry possession of my soul. A claiming of my body. And I love every second of it.
My hands, having a mind of their own, pull at the fabric of his shirt, moving it up his body, desperate for the feel of his skin against my fingertips. He tears his mouth from mine, panting with exertion, and rips the shirt over his head. I watch as the fabric sails over his shoulder and lands on the lamp hanging over the dining room table. When my eyes move back to his, they’re still scorching my skin with the intensity of his need.
His need for me.
“Ash, we need to talk,” I try.
“No. What we need to do is stop talking. Talking doesn’t help shit, Chelcie.” His words are pushed past his lips, still swollen from our kiss, just seconds before he crashes his mouth back to mine.
My body is just as treacherous as it was the first time. The ball of desire starts to tingle through my system, shorting all common sense with just the feel of his skin against my hands. Those hands that are currently running up his back, digging my nails in when I feel his strong arms reach my ass before lifting me up.
We stand there, lips battling each other for power, hips slowly rocking together, and our breathing floating through the room. It isn’t until I feel his hands start to lift my shirt off my body that I feel all sense of desire run from my body and replace my veins with ice-cold panic.
The hands that were just loving every inch they could touch suddenly feel like they’re burning. I rip my mouth from his and start to push him away with every ounce of strength I have.
“Oh, God. Asher…you have to stop.”
He leans back enough to give me some space but still keeps his hips pressed tightly against mine.
“Please. Move,” I beg.
Something in my eyes must have convinced him just how close to snapping in two I am, because he helps me gain my footing and steps back.
“I don’t like the look you’re giving me, Chelcie. I understand if this is too much or too quick, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to go sit on my fucking thumb so you can dance around this anymore.” He paces a few steps, looking at me between running his hands through his hair, his eyes violent.
The tension climbs higher with every second I take to try and work my thoughts out. He goes to speak, but the ringing of his cell takes over the tense silence.
“Fuck!” He looks at the screen, throwing out a few more expletives. “This isn’t done. Not by a long shot. Shit. Sit down and I’ll be right back. Then…then we can talk.”
He makes it down the hallway, stepping into what I remember as the guest room, and I don’t even give him a second to shut the door before I grab my discarded purse and bolt out the door.
This conversation is definitely long overdue, but it will be on my turf. Plus, I have two meddling queens to take care of first.