Page 103 of The Influencer

“I watched our video,” he says after a few, sweet moments of silence.

“What did you think?” I doubt he cried when he saw it, but I won’t be mad if he did.

“I think I can do better,” he says.

“At what?”

“Fucking you for your fans.”

I shut my eyes, arousal stirring. He’s such an asshole. A dead inside sex machine. And I’m such a needy little slut there’s no way I’ll be able to keep my pants on tonight if he so much as breathes near my neck in bed no matter how sore my hole is. “What would you do differently?” I dare ask.

“Keep your hands away from your face so they can all see what I do to you,” he rumbles. “For starters.”

“Asher. I fucking hate you right now.”

“I think you mean to say you want me right now.”

“I want to snuggle with you. I want your hands on me and your body next to mine without thinking you have ulterior motives. Or like you’re just humoring me.”

“And if I am?”

Jesus, I’m admitting way too much here. I lift my head but stay close to him. “Do you like me or not?”

“I do.”

“Then why are you being so prickly?”

“Because I’ve been in a sex house for the last four days, and I’ve been thinking about you a lot.”

I scowl deeply. I do not like the sound of that. “A sex house?”

“Adam, Sawyer—their throuple friends.”

Oh, right. I nearly collapse with relief, and then I get curious again. “You met the whole throuple?”

“Sure. I’ve known them awhile.”

“Who’s the third?”

“Who’d you meet?” he asks.

We fall into conversation easily after that, and he’s affectionate, but not pushy. He likes to play with my hair, and I like to twirl his cross necklace between my fingers. I like his body heat, and he likes to graze his fingernails down my thigh. Eventually I want to kiss him, but I promised myself I wouldn’t. Kissing him is a gateway drug.

It’s midnight when he yawns. “Bedtime?” I ask.

“Sure,” he says, and he sounds all defeated about it. Resigned even.

It bothers me. “You know,” I say, “I can tell when there’s something you’re not saying.”

“But can you tell why I’m not saying it?” he counters.

“No,” I admit. Sometimes I’d give anything to be able to read his mind, but the thought of knowing all his thoughts also scares the shit out of me.

“In this case,” he says, “it’s because my answer wouldn’t be fair to you.”

I stare hard at him, trying to puzzle the words out.

He sighs. “Jade, I get why you don’t want to have sex tonight, but I just got out of a relationship with someone who basically strapped on a chastity belt to keep me away from her.”

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