Page 32 of Broken

My heart thunders, and embarrassment turns my stomach. I place a hand on my chest like that can slow my erratic heart rate.

“Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” he scorns and sits down next to me. “You done eye-fucking the bartender?”

I pull back and glower at him. “Excuse me, I can flirt with whoever the fuck I want.”

Asher grabs my knee and turns me to face him, his eyes dropping to my leg when his hand meets bare skin. The tension in his body changes from frustration to arousal when he sees the skirt. He runs his hand up the top of my thigh until the tips of his fingers are under the fabric. I try to clench my thighs together, but his knees are keeping them apart, so I shove one of my hands between them so he can’t see or feel the scars. Why did I wear a skirt?

My breathing shudders at his soft touch, and I scan the area around us, looking for anyone who might see him touching me like this. He has to protect his reputation. The last thing he needs is a gay lover scandal.

“Flirt, fine, I’ll deal with it, but no touching.” His head is still lowered over my legs, but his eyes shoot to mine. “No one touches you but me.”

My dick twitches at the growl in his tone, in the possession of his touch. I crave it. To be owned by him, only ever by him, but I can’t let myself have it.

“Ash.” His name is barely more than a breath. “People can see.”

He leans in until his mouth is pressed to the sensitive spot behind my ear. The musky scent of his cologne and body wash filling my head as he speaks against my skin. “You’re going to ride me in this skirt and get your cum all over it.”

Goose bumps break out across my skin, and my dick is achingly hard. Jesus fuck.

“Asher,” I attempt again, and this time my words are steadier. “Friends. We can be friends.” My hand grips the bartop so tightly my fingertips turn white.

He sits up enough to see my face, and he stares hard into my eyes. “You want to be friends? Fine. We can be friends, after I fill you with cum.”

His words set fire to my blood. It’s a terrible idea, but at this particular moment I can’t remember why.

Asher’s fingers trail up my leg while his eyes are locked on mine, until he gets to the edge of my underwear. He slides his finger along the slick fabric, barely caressing my dick and balls before removing his hand with a knowing smirk.

“Eat. We have to keep your energy up.” Asher picks up a taco and brings it to my mouth. He watches as I take a bite and sets it down before pulling me closer to lick a drop of sauce off my lip.

“Jesus Christ, Asher.” I grip onto his knee and close my eyes, willing my body to relax.

“What?” he says with mock innocence. “Just making sure my boy eats.”

My boy.

Two simple words have this illusion crashing down around me. Damn it. Iwantto be his. Iwantthis to be normal for us. But it can’t. Not as long as he’s playing football. I shouldn’t have to hide that long. Being referred to as his fucking roommate or best friend’s little brother will kill me.

Sitting up, I remove my hand from his leg and pick at my food.

“What just happened?” Asher’s eyes are on my face, scanning every muscle twitch for information. “What did I say?”

I shake my head and chew on the inside of my lip to hold myself in check. After a deep breath, I force a smile on my lips and shake my head. “Nothing.”

He knows I’m full of shit but isn’t calling me on it. Yet. I’m sure the second we’re alone he’ll be all over it, but for this moment, he relents. “You need to eat.” He nods to my plate, and I pick up the taco. It really is delicious, and I end up eating all three of them. It’s the most I’ve eaten in months.

Holden appears again and takes my plate with a wink that makes Asher growl. I snort, trying to keep my chuckle in, but Asher catches it and pulls my stool between his legs so I’m basically sitting in his lap.

Once again, I scan the area.

“You have to be careful,” I chastise him, getting off the stool and paying for my food and drink. “People can see you.”

“Everyone signs an NDA when they get here. No one will say shit,” he scoffs like he doesn’t remember how backhanded and fucked up the elite are.

“All it will take is a hint for the media to blow it up. I’m sure some of these people can find a way to mention something without really saying it that people will figure out. You want a scandal right now?”

I chug the rest of my drink and step away from the bar.

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