Page 25 of Bleeding Hearts

“Not even as a kid?” he asks.

“No, never. I just thought it would be fun, okay?” I shrug.

“Well lucky for you, I happen to be the best mini-golf teacher to ever exist.”

I raise a brow at him, a smile poking at my lips.

“Trust me, you’ll be a pro in no time.” He smiles at me, nodding for me to come stand by the front of the hole with him.

I walk over to him and turn to face the same hole I just missed. It’s a long green runway that curves sharply to the left at the end, but if your ball doesn’t make that turn, it’ll fall into the water on the right, like mine just did.

I eye the course like it’s my enemy until Asher steps in front of me, obstructing my view. He reaches his hand into the front pocket of my hoodie, and I look at him skeptically.

“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice more high-pitched than normal.

At the same time, he pulls out one of the spare balls that I forgot I had shoved in there earlier.

“Oh, right,” I say.

He places the ball on the ground in front of me before moving to stand behind me. He places his hands over mine, moving them to hold the club differently than I had been.

“Relax,” he says, as his front presses against my back, helping me angle my body with the ball.

“I’m not generally a relaxed person,” I say back, fighting the urge to press myself into him further.

It’s the truth. I am rarely a relaxed person, but even if I was, how is anyone supposed to relax with someone like Asher pressed up against them? His body molds to mine and I try to ignore how well we fit together, keeping my eyes on the task at hand.

“Okay, I think I’ve got the hang of it.” I go to pull back from him, but he just holds me tighter, not letting me go.

“Stop being stubborn and let me help you.” He chuckles.

It’s not that I don’t want his help. It’s quite the opposite actually. My body wants him to help me with much more than mini golf, and that just can’t happen.

Asher’s a touchy person and I got used to that pretty quickly. That doesn’t change the fact that every time he does touch me, there’s a part of me that craves more of it.

So, yeah, I try to avoid physical contact with him when I can. Or at least the type of physical contact that has his entire front pressed against my back.

I’ve never been a fan of sex, but Asher’s touch, even being nothing but friendly, constantly has me second-guessing myself.

The fire that burns in my core when his hand brushes over my hip to angle it toward the hole is different from anything I ever felt with Jake or my one-night stand. He may have told me his name, but I had a lot of liquid courage that night, so I won’t lie and pretend I remember it.

Maybe it is something more with Asher, but a bigger part of me thinks it’s just the forbiddenness of it all. I know Asher and I are never going to happen, so of course that makes my body want him more. It’s all a mind trick.

“Eyes on the ball,” Asher’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts, and I follow his command.

“Yes, sir,” I mumble, hoping to annoy him, but it seems he has a different reaction.

Rather than being annoyed, I freeze as I feel something large press against my ass. I stay still, fighting the urge to rub against him.

I think that he’s going to pull away, but he doesn’t, just sliding his hands down over where mine grab the golf club. Unashamedly holding me close as his body reacts to me in a way I’ve never noticed him react before.

He seems content, ignoring his dick pressing into me, and I attempt to do the same. I avert my eyes to the golf ball, willing myself to focus and trying to keep my breath steady.

He lifts our hands together, gently guiding me to pull the golf club slightly back before moving it forward to hit the ball.

I watch as the ball rolls down the green pathway, bouncing off the edge of the rock on the corner, making the turn I previously missed and sinking right into the hole.

“Oh my god.” I squeal, dropping the golf club on the ground to run over to where my ball had just landed in the hole. “I fucking did it. It’s in the hole. Fuck, yeah.” I dance around the hole excitedly, not caring who’s watching or listening.

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