❁ Asher ❁

Junie wakes me with a strong cup of coffee, and by playing music that I assume she learned to enjoy as a teenager when her taste level was nonexistent. I sit up in bed, wearing the pink panda nightgown and nothing else. Feeling more naked than I’ve been in my entire life, I sip the coffee and take in the sight of a fresh-faced Junie.

“Your bedroom is red,” is all I need to say to destroy her shining smile.

“I know. Is this your way of telling me you aren’t color blind?”

“No, I’ve never known anyone with a red room. I’ve always heard red was a stressful color, so it wouldn’t be well-suited for a bedroom.”

“I don’t find it stressful. In fact, I think it looks grand. Decadent even.”

Swallowing hard, I notice the bold colors on the blankets, lamp, curtains, and every inch of the room. In contrast to the cold sharpness of my gray penthouse, Junie’s rich, warm décor overwhelms me.

The tightness in my chest signals a panic attack is coming. Breathing too fast, I can’t relax. Every muscle tenses, and my heart races. The room shrinks around me, causing my head to swim. Lost in the panic, I can’t remember if I brought emergency pills with me. I don’t even know where my phone is, so I can’t call Egor. I’m trapped here, losing my mind in front of a woman I can’t afford to scare away.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, sitting on the edge of the bed. “You look sick.”

“This place is over-stimulating,” I mutter, not sure how else to explain it.

Junie looks around as if seeing her apartment for the first time. I don’t know how she’ll react. I can only recline on the bed and try to slow my breathing. My vision narrows until I only see Junie’s face surrounded by the blood red of the walls.

‧:❉:‧ ♂ ♀ ‧:❉:‧

❁ Junie❁

Asher’s face goes pale only seconds before he starts hyperventilating. I don’t understand why he’s flipping out when absolutely nothing happened. He says my room is over-stimulating.

At first, I think he’s full of crap, but then I step outside my head where my room provides comfort. I picked out everything in here and love the color. Setting aside my personal tastes, I imagine how other people might find red overwhelming. My mother claimed the red walls would give me nightmares. Her warning never came true, but clearly, Asher’s brain is wired differently.

I cover his eyes with my right hand. “What does your home look like?”

“Junie, I can’t…”

“Don’t give me any lip, Ferrer. You came to my home and crashed like a rock all night. You owe me the chance to help you.”

“I need to go.”

“There’s no time for that. Imagine you’re already there. You’re in your bed, staring at your ceiling. What color is it?”

“Junie.”

I gently kiss him and then whisper, “Is the ceiling painted white?”

“No. It’s stained concrete gray. Lighter than the walls and floor but still gray.”

“Is there texture or is the ceiling smooth?”

“Smooth.”

“Any imperfections?”

“Slight discolorations in spots especially near the bathroom door.”

“Can you see out of a window from your bed?”

“Yes. The entire wall is windows facing out to the east end of Dietrich.”

“Imagine you’re still in your bed. If you lift your head, what do you see?”

Asher’s hands grip my nightgown, keeping me pinned against him. “The top of the 7th Street church and the mountains.”

“Can you smell anything?”

“I smell you.”

“Yes, because I’m in bed with you. What else do you smell? Does your cleaning person use a particular scented cleaner?”

“Bleach. She’s relentless with it.”

“How often does she clean your bathroom?”

“Twice a day.”

“Do you remain in the room when she cleans, or do you leave her to work?”

“I leave.”

“Where do you go?” I ask while caressing my cheek against his jaw.

“To my office on the other side of the penthouse.”

“Do you have a view from there?”

“Yes. It faces west toward your side of town. I sit there a lot and wonder what you’re doing.”

Smiling, I ask, “Is it beautiful at night with all the lights on?”

“Yes,” he whispers, and I notice his breathing slow.

“Does your office have the same décor as your bedroom?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have shelves full of books?”

“No, I read off my tablet.”

“What do you have in the office?”

“A desk and chair.”

“When you think of me while in your home, do you get stressed out?”

“Yes.”

Frowning, I exhale slowly. “You know you’re completely safe with me, don’t you? I’m too kindhearted to hurt you.”

Asher smirks, and I realize he’s breathing normally now. Removing my hand from his eyes, I smile an inch from his lips. “You doubt my gentle spirit?”

“I heard you threatened the investigator.”

“He could have been a stalker.”

“And you thought you could take him down?”

“Mallory had a pineapple,” I murmur and kiss his jaw. “You lied to me about him.”

“I lie to you about a lot of things.” When I frown at him, Asher’s luscious smile only grows. “I tell the truth too. You can focus on which of those matters to you the most.”

I slide my left hand to his bare thigh and give the muscular flesh a squeeze. “I’m not the kind of woman to take advantage of a half-conscious man. However, I am the kind of woman to take advantage of a fully conscious and barely dressed man.”

“It’s good to know your limitations.”

“I don’t know what the heck you’re talking about, but I’m moving my hand right and saying hello to Little Asher. If you have a problem with that, you’ll need to let out a girlish scream.”

Rather than crying out, Asher lifts his head, so our lips meet. Before my hand reaches his manhood, his cups my breast and even goes as far as giving my soft nipple a quick pinch.

“No more solo tiddlywinks. Let’s do this thing, Ferrer.”