Page 88 of Sin Bin Daddies
We normally hang out at his place. He’s rarely at my beach house.
He sits up, raising a brow. “Well, well. Look who finally decided to show up.”
I roll my eyes, kicking off my shoes. “Didn’t realize I had a curfew.”
“You don’t. But I expected to see you, not hours later. So, what’d I miss?”
He doesn’t ask in a suspicious way. He trusts me. Trusts her. Still, my jaw tenses because I know what he’s really asking.
I run a hand through my hair and exhale. “Took her to dinner.”
His lips twitch like he’s expecting more. “And?”
“And we had sex in my car.”
He laughs. “Oh, so that’s why you look like you saw heaven and hell at the same time.”
I throw a pillow at him, but he just laughs, catching it with ease. Then he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
“Seriously, though. How was she?”
I hesitate. Not because I don’t know how to answer, but because I know he’s asking about more than just sex.
“She was good,” I say carefully. “Tired. But good.”
He studies me for a beat. “That’s it?”
I force a shrug, keeping my expression neutral. “What else do you want me to say?”
His gaze narrows. Asher isn’t dumb. He reads people like a damn book, and right now, I can tell he’s skimming the pages of my expression, trying to find the part I’m not saying.
I don’t want to lie to him. But this isn’t my secret to tell.
So I stand up, stretching my arms over my head. “Anyway, I’m wiped. You should go home before I start charging you rent.”
He snorts, standing too. “With how often I find you in my apartment, I think it’s the other way around.”
I shake my head, already heading toward my bedroom. “Night, Ash.”
“Night, lover boy.”
I flip him off as I close the door behind me.
But when I collapse onto my bed, I don’t fall asleep right away.
Because all I can see is her face. The way she looked when she talked about Leo. The hurt in her eyes. The way she asked me not to tell Asher.
And I don’t know what pisses me off more—the fact that it happened or the fact that I couldn’t protect her from it.
A sharp knock on my door yanks me out of sleep.
I groan, rubbing my face as I roll onto my side. The sun leaks through the blinds, casting stripes of light across my sheets. The knocking comes again, more insistent this time.
“Asher,” I mutter, already knowing it’s him. “What the hell do you want?”
The door swings open, and there he is—fully dressed, hair damp from a shower, looking way too awake for this time of morning.
“Good, you’re up.” He steps inside like he owns the place. “Maddie and I walked the dog.”
