Page 68 of The Influencer

Jade

If you must know, I’m fishing for compliments. Just go with it.

Asher

To be clear, two men just fucked you and you need more validation?

I put down the phone and move away from it like it’s a snake. I don’t need this. I don’t regret telling Asher what my plans for tonight were, but he’s got no right to throw it back in my face. Bringing it up twice in one brief online conversation? It reeks of judgement.

Suddenly I’m overwhelmed with exhaustion, the adrenaline out of my system and replaced with a strong urge to sleep well into next week.

I plug in my phone, and the second the circuit connects, it rings.

Fuck.

“I’m going to bed,” I say instead of something polite like hey or hello.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“Whatever. Are you still coming over tomorrow?”

“It’s tonight, and I still want to, yes.”

God, I like his voice. It suits him so well. Low, warm, and sexy. Yes, I’ve graduated to being able to acknowledge that I find Asher sexy. Sue me. And it’s not just the way he fucks either. It’s the way he does everything, including changing my nose ring—standing slightly too close, exposing his neck just right, smelling so manly. It puts me under such a spell, I say things like, “I do, too.”

“Good. And you can wear whatever you want. The last thing I want to do is tell you what to do.”

“Do you mean that?” I ask, because it’s a really important thing he just said. It has a lot of implications if I want to keep?—

I palm my face, stopping the thought from completing itself. I don’t get attached. I don’t do repeats. I’m already breaking one of my rules and yes—it’s dangerous—and I’m risk-averse if you can believe it. I’m willing to wear outrageous things and strut the streets—in a crowd—but no one will ever find me outside a club after hours in fishnets and heels.

I don’t ride roller coasters, motorcycles, or even in convertibles. I’d never ski down a mountain or zip line across a forest. I get extremely nervous when the person who usually does my wax is out for a day, and I’m forced to spread my ass cheeks for someone new.

This will be my fifth encounter with Asher, which means it needs to be my last. If he’s serious about getting out of his loveless relationship he’ll be well and truly available, and he might want more from me than I can give. He might turn into a Kyle, whose contact information I’ve recently removed from my phone.

“I mean it,” Asher says.

I should back out now. I should tell him never mind. I’ll pay him for Monday night some other way. “Okay. I appreciate that,” I say instead. And why?

Because spreadsheets.

Because freckles.

Because lust is burning my insides to ash whether I want it to or not. I mean—it’s not like he makes me miserable. It’s not like we’re toxic together. We’re probably cute, not that I ever would take our show on the road to find out. Still, it’s not like we’ve got to contend with forever.

When I tour with Gideon, I stay the hell out of LA. I don’t come back to visit friends on breaks. I travel and explore other places, other men. I’m a man of the fucking world.

If I want to fuck Asher a few more times before the tour launches in New York in November, who cares? As long as he doesn’t get attached, and if I’m being realistic about “us” he’s not showing any signs of having feelings for me beyond physical. I can do physical. I can do physical all damn day.

“What time should I expect you?” I ask.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to make it over before eight. So, let’s shoot for nine? If that works for you?”

“Works for me,” I tell him.

“Okay. I hope you sleep well, Jade.”

“Same to you.”

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