Page 63 of The Influencer

“And you’ll just let two strangers what? Use you?”

“We use each other,” he says, without a hint of embarrassment. He actually sounds proud, and it makes me even more curious.

Jealous, maybe, I honestly can’t tell, but definitely curious. “So, what are you guys gonna do?”

“A spit roast.”

It takes me a minute to remember what that is, but I’ve watched enough porn to recall quickly enough. “You’re the one in the middle?”

“Asher.” He drops his gaze. “I don’t want to talk about this with you.”

“Why not?” I ask. “I know who you are. What you do for a living. I even know how much you make doing it. I’m not judging you.”

“I know you’re not,” he says quietly. “But I can’t help it if I don’t feel comfortable sharing every aspect of my sex life with you.”

“Even if I’m a part of your sex life?”

“A temporary part,” he doesn’t hesitate to point out, “And especially because of that.”

It doesn’t sting. He’s stubborn and set in his ways, and besides, he’ll be off on tour in a few months, and I’ll be running my shop and finding other people to fuck. Because I swear to God, once I’m finally out of my relationship with Olivia, I plan to unleash myself on Los Angeles. Sex is too good not to have it as much as possible. I’m about as interested in settling down as Jade is.

One more thing we have in common. That, and the fact that we like each other, but I might like a brick wall right now if it had a nice tight hole in it.

“Fine,” I say. “Keep your secrets until you post them online for anyone to see. Whatever,” I end in a whisper with a soft kiss on the tip of his nose that has his entire body stiffening against mine.

“You should really go,” he says.

“I’m going.”

“You’re not, though.”

I’m not. That’s true. I mean, I plan to, but he’s got his fingers caught behind my leather cuff, and he’s not making any attempt to move either. “You have to let go of me,” I remind him.

“Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid,” he says, still not meeting my eyes. “I know how leaving works.”

I tighten my leg around his and let him stay where it’s warm.

He sighs and rests his head on my upper arm. “Why are you so nice?”

“I’ve always been the nice one,” I say.

“Adam’s nice,” he murmurs.

“He is now. He used to be a real cocky jackass back in high school, though.”

“And what were you like?”

“Gamer. Picture any overweight gamer in the basement, and that was me. Except we didn’t have a basement.”

“How’d you get into tattooing?”

“I majored in graphic design in college—wanted to design video games.”

“What happened with that?”

“Adam made a major league team.”

“And so, you just…what? Became a homemaker?”

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