Asher

“How’d it go with Steven last night?” I ask Marley when I pick her up for our basketball date.

“It went okay. He’s still demanding more time with her.”

“What did you say?”

“Same thing I always do.” She shrugs. “He’ll have to take me to court first.”

Ever since Marley told me about her ex, I’ve been digging into his past and I’m not liking what I’m finding, which is absolutely nothing. No criminal record. Not even so much as a parking ticket on this guy. But that’s not what’s bothering me, what bothers me is not knowing how he makes his money. Some of the things Marley has told me about him just don’t add up.  

There’s something else there. I can feel it in my gut. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned from being a cop, it’s to always follow your gut.

I wanted to be there when he came and got Lyla last night and meet the prick myself but Marley wasn’t having it. She says it’s too soon for me to meet him. She said that Steven can have a temper and knowing she’s seeing someone might set him off.

Well he’s going to find out sooner or later so he might as well get used to seeing me around now.

Because I’m not going anywhere.

We arrive at the local gym and warm up before hitting the court. We mess around for a bit before Marley challenges me to a game and things get real serious.

“You’re a cheater,” I tell her as she dribbles the ball back and forth between each hand, looking hot as fuck in her little black yoga pants and red tank top. Her hair is pulled into a bun on top of her head and there’s a small amount of sweat collecting between her breasts that beckons my tongue. What I wouldn’t give to strip her down right here and take her on this hardwood floor, her cries of pleasure bouncing off the walls as I bury myself inside of her, but I promised I would behave myself.

“How do you figure?”

“Because I can’t concentrate when you look that hot. Do you know how hard it is to shoot a basketball with a hard-on?”

She throws her head back and laughs. “No, I can’t say that I do.”

She wasn’t lying before.

She’s good.

Too good.

She’s kicking my ass all over this court but I don’t care as long it means getting to rub up against her afterwards.

“You just suck, that’s all.”

I groan. “Oh, I’m going to be doing some sucking later on, I promise you.”

She flashes me a wicked smile before she jukes me then makes her shot, the ball swooshing the net, bringing her in the lead.

She fist pumps before shaking her cute little ass at me. “Told you I was good.”

I place my hands on my hips. “I never pegged you for a shit-talker, Doc.”

“And I never pegged you for a sore loser.”

We play out the rest of the game, and of course, she whips my ass. Even though she hasn’t touched a ball in four damn years.

“Come on, let’s play one more,” she pleads after we take a water break.

“Nah, I’m good. I’ve already had my ass handed to me once today.”

“But it’s such a cute ass,” she sasses.

“Careful, Marley. I’m trying be a good boy here but you’re making it damn hard.”

Her eyes flint down to my crotch.

I toss the basketball aside, putting my shoulder to her stomach. “Asher, stop! Put me down.”

“Not a chance, sweetheart,” I say, gripping her ass. “I’ve had enough of this smart mouth today. Time to put it to good use.”

Her hands clutch my shirt near my ass, tugging for me to let her down. “What are you going to do?”

“You’ll see.” I lower her to her feet then kiss her hard before grabbing her hand to lead her from the gym to my truck outside. She pretends she doesn’t like it when I manhandle her like that, but I know she does.

It’s written all over her pink cheeks.

The hitch in her breath.

The need in her fucking eyes.

The same need that matches mine.

Opening the passenger door, I help her inside.

“But we weren’t finished with the game yet,” she pouts, pushing my hands away as I reach for her seatbelt to strap her in. “And we just got here.”

Her eyes are fire, blazing with a mix of frustration and need.

“We’ll finish the game later,” I say, closing the door and climbing in on my side.

She draws in a deep breath, trying to regain her composure. She’s putting her logical hat on but I don’t own one of those.

What I feel for this woman is far from logical.

“Asher,” she says calmly. “You can’t treat me as if I’m your property.”

“Told you before, babe, shouldn’t have to remind you every time, you’re mine.”

“God, you’re so infuriating.”

I reach over and grab her hand, bringing the back of it to my lips, pressing a soft kiss there, watching the tension in her shoulders ease at my affection. In this past week, I’ve discovered every single spot that drives her mad with need. I know exactly where to touch her to make her moan a certain way. Where to kiss her to make her claw my back and beg for more, but I also know how to calm her down and bring her back to me. The real me. The me she’s so effortlessly discovered. The me I’m liking more and more each day. Now, I’m about to remind her that there’s only one person she belongs to.

And that will only ever be me.