Page 18 of Poison's Promise

“Yeah,” Polly confirms, her lips curling into a sardonic smile. “And I guess she made good on that threat, didn't she?”

“Jesus, Polly,” I mutter, running a hand over my head. “I had no idea.”

“Of course you didn’t,” she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “You were too busy believing her lies to even ask me what happened.”

“Polly, I—” I try to find the right words, but they elude me, slipping through my fingers like sand.

“Save it, Asher,” she interrupts, shaking her head. “Just save it.”

CHAPTER FOUR

Poison

I take a deep breath, trying to steady my heartbeat.

The air between us is charged, crackling like a live wire.

Asher stands just a few feet away, his hazelnut eyes boring into mine with an intensity that makes my knees weak.

My heart’s pounding in my chest so loud, I’m sure he can hear it.

He steps forward, closing the gap between us until there’s barely any space left.

I can feel the heat radiating off him, smell the familiar scent of leather and musk.

It’s intoxicating, pulling me in despite every warning bell going off in my head.

“Polly...” His voice is softer now, almost tender.

It catches me off guard, and before I can react, he closes the remaining distance between us.

His lips crash against mine, and all rational thought flies out the window.

It’s as if a dam has broken, and everything we’ve been holding back for years comes flooding out in that one kiss.

His hands are on my hips, gripping me tight, pulling me closer until there’s no space left between us. I gasp against his mouth, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue exploring, demanding.

“Fuck, Ash,” I manage to breathe out when we break apart for air.

But he doesn’t give me a chance to say more.

His lips find mine again, more insistent this time, more desperate.

We stumble backward, and my back hits the cold wall of the tour bus.

It jolts me, but not enough to break the kiss. His hands are everywhere—my hair, my waist, my ass.

It’s overwhelming, consuming, and I can’t get enough.

“God, I’ve missed you,” he murmurs against my neck, his breath hot against my skin.

“Shut up and kiss me,” I demand, grabbing the front of his shirt and yanking him closer.

“With pleasure,” he growls, and then he’s kissing me again, harder this time, more urgent.

My hands slide under his shirt, feeling the hard planes of his chest, the muscles tensing under my touch.

He shudders, and I can’t help the triumphant smile that spreads across my face. I’ve still got it.

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