Page 37 of Asher

But I felt the jealousy growing, and somehow, Asher being Asher, he picked up on it, and how he knew it, I couldn’t tell you.

“You’re the first person I’ve done this for, Chloe. And I want it to look good.”

What could I say to that and not mess up my friendship with Stella?

Honestly.

See... this was why I decided to distance myself from not only the club but from him.

Because seeing him as often as I did and knowing he couldn’t be mine?

It was torture.

Pure freaking torture.

So, I did the only thing I could do: I nodded and said, “Well, thank you.”

He winked, then put everything back in the back, and once he was done, he leaned forward and said, “Want to tell you something, and I need you to hear me, alright?”

I tilted my head to the side and nodded.

Then he whispered, “Meant what I said to you, Chloe. I’m going to wait. Just need you to tell me when you’re ready. Because a connection like the two of us have is rare. And no way in fucking hell am I going to go to my grave and not know what it feels like to have all of you.”

The only thing I could ask him was, “All of me?”

He nodded, “Yeah. I want your body. I want your mind. But most of all, I want your heart. I want to plant myself so deep inside of it that it will take you a millennium to dig me out.”

And before I could say anything... like... Stella.

There was a tap in the doorway.

Asher and I both looked in the direction and saw Priest standing there, “Sorry to interrupt. But I fucking need you, Asher.”

I looked back at Asher and saw him visibly sigh, then lift his chin.

He looked back at me, apology brimming in his toffee-colored eyes, then he carefully removed my feet from his lap, stood, leaned forward, wrapped his hand around the side of my neck, pressed his lips to my forehead, and there he whispered, “Remember what I said, alright?”

All I managed to do was let out a clipped nod.

Yes, I watched him as he walked away, but he stopped in the doorway, turned, and asked, “Did you know that my favorite color is red?”

I nodded, then without a filter, I said, “Yeah. You wear it a lot. And you have red accents on your bike.”

And with that, he walked away.

Stella returned a few minutes after he left, sat down beside me, took in my toes, grinned, and then asked, “So, what did y’all talk about?”

I shrugged, “The usual.”

Thankfully, she let it go and got back into the movie we had been watching.

But for the remainder of the night, I replayed his words over and over in my head.

Dark-haired.

Green-eyed.

Beauties.

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