Chapter 13
Chapter 13:
Asher’s car pulls up in front of my apartment. My eyes drift out the window, taking in the entire building, which now looks as if it endured a massive renovation.
a massive construction makeover.
Asher switches off the engine, and we both step out of the car. Throughout the entire drive, neither of us said a word. The silence could have been suffocating, but thanks to the soft hum of the radio, it didn’t sting as much.
He takes my luggage bag while, true to my foodie nature, I carry the packaged box of food. We climb the stairs to my apartment.
In silence.
At last, we reach the door. I pull the key from my purse, slip it into the keyhole, and turn it until the familiar click unlocks the door. Pushing it open, I step inside first, with Asher following close behind and shutting it softly.
I’ve lost count of how many times Asher has been here, yet for some reason, it suddenly feels like I’ve let a stranger into my home. A devastatingly attractive stranger. The memory of his lips ravaging mine back at his house floods my mind.
Heat stirs low in my stomach, and I gulp, shaking my head quickly before heading to the dining table to set down the food in my hands.
“Your house looks pretty much the same as the last time I was here,” he comments.
I turn, clearing my throat as quietly as possible. He points toward the red fluffy rug on the floor.
“But it looks like you changed your rug p>
“Yeah, I did.” My voice is barely a whisper. My trembling fingers fidget restlessly, as if trying to soothe the storm of unease building inside me. But it’s a different unease—one that feels like sweet, maddening torture.
“Alright, Isla.” His eyes lift from the rug to meet mine. “I should be on my way now p>
“Thank you, Asher.” I manage to get the words out, my voice tight. “I appreciate you bringing me back p>
“How many times do you have to thank me, Isla? It’s already enough.” He groans, spreading his arms wide.
I chuckle, knowing he’s asking for an embrace. I walk over to him and wrap my arms around his firm body. His arms close around me, and I press my face into his chest as his hands gently stroke my back, soothing me like a mother lulling her baby to sleep.
Electricity shoots down my spine with every touch. His heartbeat is steady, like a drum, and his warmth makes me draw in a long, silent breath. God, he smells so good. I want to stay like this—forever. In his arms, I feel warm. I feel safe. like I always have whenever we hug.
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A few seconds slip by, though they feel like the briefest millisecond, and I almost groan when I sense him pulling away. Reluctantly, I loosen my arms from around his back. I know he has to go. He must, because only God and my raging body know the disaster that could happen if he stayed.
His lips part, and briefly he’s about to say something, but then they press into a thin line instead.
I watch as he turns and walks toward the door. He lingers there, his perfect broad back facing me. I want to rush to him, grab him, turn him around, kiss him, and let him do insane, mind-blowing things to me.
Because I love him. I love every bit of Asher Kane. Every fiber of my being wants him to know that—wants him to feel it.
But my legs betray me, rooted to the floor, leaving me with nothing but the tormenting sight of Asher standing at the door. His hand turns the knob, and he opens it.