Page 39 of Siren's Game

"Yeah. There are some family pictures over there.” I point to the hallway that leads to the bedroom. “He got it a good few years ago so he and my mom could spend the night in the city after events or nights out." I grimace as I continue. "Remember how I mentioned they met in a nightclub? They still go out to them a lot. And the hooks in the bed's headboard tell me that Idon'twant to know the names of the clubs they go to or what they do there. Any details really."

"Hooks?" She looks at me with an adorable, confused wrinkle between her eyebrows.

Wait, what. Adorable? There is that word again.

I shake my head at my own thoughts. No, Asher, don’t. I’m not going there. Maybe I'm just horny.

Yes, that must be it. It’s been months since I last had sex, but I'm not about to bring it into this fake relationship. It's messy enough as it is already and she dislikes me enough.

I know I’m lying to myself though.

She’s fucking mesmerizing, but I can’t let my thoughts go there. Not if I want to survive the next few weeks of this charade.

"Oh, no." Her eyes are still wide, but the meaning is starting to sink in, and slowly, her face breaks into a smile and suddenly she bursts into the most adorable giggle.

Again, adorable. And the sound of her laughter goes straight to my cock.

I shift and hide my crotch behind the kitchen island as I will myself to calm down. Damn. What am I? Sixteen? Looks like I need to take a long, cold shower later.

"Who do you think is the one who gets tied up, your mom or your dad?" she asks me through fits of giggles, and I shudder.

"Quiet!" I scold her playfully and flick some water at her as I bring her glass over. The thought of my parents having sex is enough to make me soft again instantly. "We don't talk about parental sex in this home."

"Oh, then do you let yourself get tied up?" She raises her eyebrow at me, challenge in her eyes. I chuckle and shake my head at her.

"Sweetheart, I'm the one doing the tying,” I say as I hand her the glass. “I like it when my partners squirm in pleasure, not a chance to get away when I make them come over . . . " I lean closer, until my mouth is right next to her ear. "And over again until they beg me to stop."

Her breath hitches and the red on her cheeks deepens even more. I’m so close I can see the goose bumps spreading on her neck, and I can’t help but intentionally breathe against her skin before I draw back.

Quickly, she takes a step back and clears her throat, taking a sip of her water and rubbing her hand over where my breath just tickled her. "Too much information, Asher."

"You started it," I say with a shrug and chuckle, breaking the suddenly tense atmosphere. Then I hear a faint knock on my door and open it to Van pushing a guitar into my hands. He looks stressed and as soon as I have it, he turns around and storms off.

"Thanks, man," I shout after him. He raises his hand with his back facing me and waves goodbye.

"No worries."

That poor guy. He doesn’t usually wait on Luca and me hand and foot, so I appreciate that he was able to organize the instrument and bring it over even after his work hours. He really deserves every single raise he gets from Luca and me.

I'll make sure to bring him a coffee to the stadium tomorrow morning. I don’t know what’s going on, but I'm sure he's going to hole up in a makeshift office there to do his work again.

And the coffee there is horrendous. I can’t let him drink that in good conscience.

"Here's your guitar, Sweetheart," I say as I turn around. The nickname started as a way to annoy her, but now it rolls from my lips so easily, without even thinking about it.

Yeah. I’m in deep fucking trouble.

I can see her contemplate whether to call me out on it or not, but finally, she shoots me a smile and instead makes grabby hands for the instrument.

"Thank you. I just got an idea I need to try out and record." She takes it from my hands and sits down at my window front, facing the city as it sparkles in the night. She swipes over her phone screen a few times, I assume until she finds her recording app, and then strums her fingers over the strings.

“Do you have a paper and pen?”

“Sure.” I get a notepad and pen from the kitchen where I usually jot down my shopping list and set both down next to her.

“Thank you.” She reaches for them blindly, and immediately, the pen starts flying over the paper.

I’ll give her some privacy. I have to clean up the guest room a bit anyway.

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