Page 64 of The Backup

Brian exhales sharply but doesn’t look convinced. “Yeah, but…does she? I mean, did she ever talk about…you know, howgiftedyou are?”

Asher’s jaw tightens. “I’m not going to dignify that with an answer.”

From the closet, I’m biting my lip so hard it’s a miracle I don’t make a sound.

“Fine,” Brian mutters, waving a hand. “What about Sloane?”

My stomach flips, and I hold my breath.

Asher doesn’t react right away. “What about her?”

Brian leans forward, his voice dropping. “You’ve been eyeing her all night. Don’t deny it.”

Asher’s smirk returns, lazy and confident. “Sloane and I? Nah. Not my type.”

The words sting more than they should, even though I know he’s lying.

Brian exhales, looking relieved. “Good. Because I don’t need another reason to feel like I’m stuck in your shadow.”

Asher claps him on the shoulder, his tone firm. “You’re overthinking. Go home, get some sleep, and talk to Jacklyn tomorrow. You’ll feel better.”

After a moment, Brian nods, pushing himself to his feet. “Yeah. You’re probably right.”

The door clicks shut behind Brian, and silence fills the room, broken only by my shallow breaths. Slowly, I step out of the closet, brushing down my sweatshirt like I can somehow smooth over the tension still lingering in the air.

Asher turns to me, one eyebrow raised, his smirk firmly back in place. “Well? Enjoy the show?”

I cross my arms, narrowing my eyes. “So, I’m not your type, huh?”

He chuckles softly, stepping closer, his gaze locking onto mine. “If I’d said you were, Brian would still be here, whining about it.”

“Right,” I say, tilting my head. “You did it for him.”

“For both of us,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing.

My heart skips as he reaches out, his fingers brushing against mine, his touch deliberate but slow, like he’s giving me a chance to pull away.

“Still,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper, “it was convincing.”

His smirk deepens, and he steps closer, until the space between us disappears. “Was it?”

I barely manage a nod before his lips capture mine, soft but insistent. The kiss is a tease at first, but then his hand slides to the back of my neck, pulling me closer, and all pretense melts away.

I sigh against his mouth, my fingers gripping the hem of the baggy sweatshirt I’m wearing. His hands shift, helping me pull it over my head, and the moment it drops to the floor, I feel his gaze sweep over me.

My hand moves instinctively, sliding over his chest and down his stomach, pausing just above the waistband of his sweatpants. I glance up, biting my lip as I feel him harden beneath my touch.

“You weren’t kidding,” I murmur, my voice soft but laced with wonder.

“About what?” he asks, his tone smug.

I trail my fingers lower, brushing against his hardening length in a way that makes him inhale sharply. “About being gifted. I certainly don’t mind.”

His eyes darken, his smirk fading into something more intense. “Careful, Sloane,” he murmurs, his voice a low rasp. “You keep saying things like that, and I might forget I promised to behave tonight.”

“Maybe I don’t want you to behave,” I whisper back, my cheeks flaming even as the words leave my lips.

For a moment, the only sound is our breathing, tangled and uneven, before he presses his forehead against mine.

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