Page 50 of Obsession on Repeat
"Asher?"
His gaze shifted to mine, our faces inches away from each other, with his arm stretched across my chest. "Yes, Rory?"
"You’re pretty for a guy. Did you know that? Of course, you know that." I trailed my fingers across his chin. I dropped my hand. "Asher?"
He swallowed, his gaze lingering on my mouth. "Yes?"
"The light’s green."
He swore under his breath, clicking my seat belt. He settled back as someone blew their horn behind us. Rolling his eyes, he pressed on the gas, and the vehicle roared through the intersection. He released a long stream of air harshly through his nose. "I need your address."
"Too bad. I don’t know," I sighed. "I live with Sullivan. He’s not there. I don’t want to be there either."
"You can’t sleep on the street."
"I can sleep with you!"
The truck swerved but thankfully stayed on the road. "You can do what?"
"Well, not with you!" Laughing, I swatted his arm. "I can sleep at your place! You’re rich; you’ve probably got a huge house with twenty beds!"
"Let’s not get ahead of ourselves."
I leaned on the center console toward him, a teasing smile on my face. "About how big your house is?" I wiggled my eyebrows then sat back, rubbing my throat. "Stupid belt is trying to cut my throat." I frowned. "I think I left my duffel bag in my locker."
We were stopped by another red light, and he hit the brake as gently as he could. "You can get it tomorrow."
"I’m not going back tomorrow, remember?" I sighed at the sound of my seat belt popping loose. "Asher, my belt! I need you to fix it again."
"You are going to be the death of me."
"Blame the belt maker!"
He smiled, but he didn’t move. "I fully blame Jack Daniels."
"Yummy Jack. Do you have Jack at that huge house of yours?"
He pressed on the gas when the light turned green. "You’re not having any more liquor tonight." He shook his head as he noticed me pouting out of the corner of his eye. "That doesn’t work on me, Rory."
As soon as we parked in his driveway, I climbed out of the car, almost slipping. He steadied me, his hand on my arm. "I told you to watch your step, darlin’."
"I can’t help it if your car is eighty feet off the ground!" I shouted.
Wincing, he covered my mouth with his hand. "You have to be quiet, Rory! It’s four in the morning!" He quickly jerked his hand away. "Did you lick my hand?"
"What? No, my lips are parched."
"I felt you-" He shook his head. "I’m not standing in my driveway at four in the morning arguing about whether or not you licked my hand. I’m not."
"I think you are, sir." I poked his chest. "Wow, do you work out?" I poked him again. "Cause, wow."
He laughed at my dazed expression. "You’re going to regret this in the morning and not because of the headache."
"Says you." I grinned, dizzy, but something inside me twisted. Because deep down, I knew he was right.
He started to pull away, but my grip on him tightened. "Rory…"
"I can’t walk."
