Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Luce appears, grabbing Ivy's arm. “Ivy, maybe we should—”
“No.” Ivy yanks her arm free, swaying slightly. “No, I want to hear this. What gives you the right, Asher?”
“You really want to do this here?” I tease, unable to wipe the smug grin from my face. “I mean, I'm keen if you are, baby, but I'm gonna go ahead and say you have a lot more to lose than I do.”
“You!” she jabs a finger into my chest. “Think you're so funny! Making sure everyone in this club knows you have a problem with me dancing? Ha… ha. You should have been a comedian.”
I step further into her space. “I have a problem with you letting some random asshole put his hands on you.”
“Oh, that's rich coming from—”
I grab her wrist, pulling her toward the exit. She fights it for half a second before her body follows, her heels clicking rapidly as she tries to keep up.
“Asher, stop—”
I don't. We pass the bar and I snag a bottle of whiskey from the counter, ignoring the bartender's protest. Someone will charge it to my tab. Someone always does.
We don't stop until we're far enough away that the bass from the club is distant. Passing familiar shops on our way, neither of us say a word as we walk up the main road and in the direction of the house.
Ten minutes later, she sniffs. “Ash.”
I stop but don't turn, staring at the dark street in front of us. Not even the colorful lights can distract you from the underbelly of this town.
Trust. Many have tried.
“—we can't keep doing this,” she continues, pushing every god damn button that I have.
She appears in front of me, and when her hands land on my cheeks, I hiss, hooking my arm around her waist so she can't run.
“I know,” I say, swallowing, but skimming my lips over hers. “But you're gonna give me until your birthday, and until then, we're not gonna talk about the logistics of this fucked up situation.”
She blinks, her green eyes glaring right through me. “And then?”
I swallow, but it's too painful. Too much. Too raw. “And then we walk away.”
Chapter 22
Asher
Iwake to the taste of whiskey. Ivy's hair spreads across my chest, her breath warm against my ribs. My head pounds—a vicious reminder that stealing that bottle was either genius or stupidity.
Probably both.
I pull her deeper into my chest, lips finding the nape of her neck. She tastes like salt and that vanilla lotion she pretends she doesn't buy specifically because I mentioned liking it once.
She giggles—actually fucking giggles—and pushes her ass back against me. The sound shoots straight to my cock, already half-hard from waking up with her wrapped around me like she belongs there.
I bite down on her shoulder, tasting sleep and whiskey on her skin.
“Ash—”
The way she breathes my name makes me want to pin her down and show her exactly what waking up like this does to me. Instead, I force myself to roll away before I do something stupid. Like fuck her into the mattress when we both smell like a distillery exploded.
“Up.” My voice comes out rougher than intended. “Come on.”
She groans, burying her face deeper into the pillow like she can hide from me there. “It's not even light out.”
“Exactly.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don't.” I yank the covers off her in one swift motion, ignoring her shriek. The cold air hits her bare legs and she curls into herself, glaring murder at me. “Grab your board.”
“Are you insane?” She sits up, hair a complete disaster, mascara smudged under her eyes like bruises. She looks wrecked. Perfect. Exactly how I want her to look every morning—thoroughly fucked and furious about it. “My head feels like someone took a sledgehammer to it.”
“Fresh air helps.”
“Sleep helps.”
She flops back dramatically, arm thrown over her eyes. I watch the rise and fall of her chest, the way my t-shirt rides up her thighs. My jaw clenches.
“Ivy.” I lean down, caging her against the headboard. “Get. Your. Board.”
Her eyes narrow, but there's heat there. Always heat with us. “You're such a dick.”
“Mm-hmm…” I flash a wicked smirk. “But it's yours.”
She shoves me, but she's smiling. That real smile. The one that makes my chest do stupid things I refuse to acknowledge.
Twenty minutes later, we're trudging through the pre-dawn darkness toward the gondola. Ivy's wrapped in my jacket over her gear, looking like a pissed-off marshmallow. She hasn't stopped complaining since we left the house.
“—could literally be sleeping right now. Like normal people. People who don't drag their—whatever I am—out at ungodly hours to freeze their asses off on a mountain that's probably haunted—”
“You done?” I shove my mask over my neck.
She glares at me, but all it does is make her look even more fuck-able. “Not even close.”
We load our boards and climb in. The doors seal with a hydraulic hiss, and we start ascending into darkness. The town shrinks below us, lights scattered like broken glass.