I send him a meaningful look, raising my eyebrows.You promised to fuck me if they were.
“Oh, right.” He grins. “Come here, then.”
After a moment’s hesitation, I round the kitchen island and let him slide his hand into my hair. When our lips meet, he licks the sugary crumbles off the corners of my mouth, and I taste the chocolatey residue on his tongue.
He tugs my head back and devours my mouth, and I moan into the kiss, wanting nothing more than for him to take me like he took me yesterday. And yet something feels wrong. I can’t quite put my finger on it.
Sensing my hesitation, Asher breaks the kiss and squints out the window, at the sun and the glittering frost, and I suddenly know what he’s thinking, because I feel the same.
Up here, it feels like the world is watching us, observing the depraved nature of our relationship. Down in the basement—where we got to know each other, where everything happened between us—we feel safe, alone, without the risk of interference.
“Let’s go.” Asher takes my hand, and we descend the stairs, down into the darkness, where we feel whole.
Chapter 19
Asher
Thecoatingofchocolateand sugary sweetness in my mouth poses a harsh contrast against the dark, grimy atmosphere of the basement.
Without me having to ask him to, Noah blocks out the intrusive sunlight from the window with a piece of cardboard while I sit on the bed, waiting for him.
I pull impatiently at my fingers, still feeling rattled from holding my phone in my hand, if only for a split second. I don’t want to be confronted by it—my world outside. I just want to live in this little bubble with Noah and convince myself everything’s fine. Why doesn’t he get it?
Window successfully blocked, he settles down beside me on the bed. I want to touch him, but I can’t help but glare at him instead.
“What if I called my dealer?”
“What?”
“You handed me my phone. What if I called my dealer? What if I got him to deliver drugs right to your doorstep? What if I did them in front of you?”
Noah frowns. “You wouldn’t.”
“Don’t be so sure.”
“Well?…?What do you want me to do?”
“Don’t let me have my phone. Hide it somewhere; I don’t even want to look at it.”
Part of me wants to take the words back. Part of me wants to run upstairs, grab my phone, and call Joshua right away. I scrape at the edge of my fingernail in agitation. Why is this so fucking hard? I have Noah now. I don’t need the drugs.I don’t.
“That’s fine, I can do that.” Noah lifts a hand to stroke my hair. I don’t particularly want him to touch me right now, but I let him have at it. Maybe it will make me feel better. “Do you think about it a lot?”
“What?”
“The drugs.”
“I don’t know.”Yeah, I do. “Sometimes.”A lot.
“Whenever you think about it, whenever you crave them, you can use my body as a distraction.”
“How generous.” I reach over to push a strand of hair out of his face, jumping at the chance to replace my cravings for drugs with cravings for him, if only for a little while. “As if you don’t want it too. As if you’re not as desperate for it as I am.”
His cheeks flush, and he looks away. “Well, that’s—”
“Shh, don’t worry. I’ll give you what you want.”
His eyes flit to me, both scared and wanting, and fuck, if my dick doesn’t stir just from that look on his face.