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With a low growl, I wedge a thigh between his legs, using the solid weight of my body to pin him to the fridge. The drag of his hardness against my muscle tears a moan from his throat, his fingers scrabbling desperately at my shoulders. I lick a hot stripe up the elegant column of his neck, tasting salt and desire.
"Liam, please..." Asher's eyes are glazed when they meet mine, kiss-swollen lips parted on shallow breaths. "I can't... we shouldn't..."
The words are a douse of ice water, snapping me back to grim reality. What the fuck am I doing? This fevered tumble is a liability I can't afford, no matter how sweetly Asher's body sings for mine. Declan would eviscerate me if he knew how close I'd let a mark get under my skin.
Abruptly, I wrench away from Asher, putting a good three feet of charged air between us. He slumps bonelessly against the fridge, looking wrecked and dazed. I straighten my shirt with hands that aren't entirely steady, my blood still rioting with unsated lust.
"You've got balls, sunshine, I'll give you that." My voice is a sandpaper rasp. "But this little game of defiance will only end one way. You can't win against the O'Connors."
I turn on my heel and stalk out of the kitchen before he can reply, my coat forgotten on the stool. The bell jangles mockingly as I slam out of the diner and into the cold, grey afternoon.
Fuck. I'm in trouble. The kid's under my skin like a fever, an insistent itch I can't scratch. The whole drive back to the penthouse, I feel the phantom heat of his body against mine, the drugging slide of his lips, the stuttered music of his breath.
I find myself replaying his words in my head as I white-knuckle the steering wheel. Stand for something or die for nothing. Maybe there's another way to live, one that doesn't mire me in moral filth and casual brutality. Maybe whatever this is between Asher and me, this spark that could ignite into a conflagration... maybe it's worth fighting for.
But then I remember who I am. What I am. A thug, a killer, my soul stained in permanent crimson. No amount of sweetness and sunshine can absolve that kind of blood debt. Asher deserves better than the poison I'd bring into his life. Better to end this now, while it's still just a flash-fire of hormones and bad judgment, not the bone-deep yearning I can already feel taking root.
I don't go home. Home's not safe, with its temptations of amber liquor and dark forgetting. Instead, I drive aimlessly through the neon-limned streets, the gleam of Asher's eyes haunting me in every stoplight, every rain-starred window.
Declan will expect a report, a fistful of cash to show for my collection. I'll have to tell him Asher needs a little more persuasion. An ominous euphemism, one that sends a chill down my spine even as my fists ache to defend and cherish.
I'm at a crossroads, with no map or compass to lead me. For the first time in my miserable, bloody life, I've found something bright. Something good. And already the shadows are clawing at its edges, greedy to pull it into the mire.
I can't let that happen. I won't let my poison existence corrupt Asher's light. Even if I have to become the monster he fears to keep him safe.
Even if I shatter my own black, brittle excuse for a heart in the process.
CHAPTER 2
ASHER
Ilean against the cool metal of the kitchen sink, my heart still racing like a spooked rabbit. The ghost of Liam's touch lingers on my skin, a fiery brand I can't shake. It's been hours since he stormed out of my diner, leaving me weak-kneed and aching, but I can still taste him on my tongue. Whiskey and danger and something dark and addictive I've never encountered before.
"Earth to Asher!" Mia's voice snaps me out of my daze, her almond-shaped eyes narrowed with concern. "Are you going to tell me what the hell that was all about?"
I scrub a hand over my face, wondering how much to divulge. Mia's been my rock since we were scrappy kids running wild in the neighborhood, thick as thieves and twice as loyal. But this... this feels too raw, too new, to share just yet.
"Liam O'Connor," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "He came to collect the protection money."
Mia sucks in a sharp breath. "Shit, Ash. He's Declan O'Connor's enforcer. That man is seriously bad news."
I nod, my throat suddenly tight. I've heard the stories, whispers of Liam's ruthless efficiency, the trail of broken bones and busted-up businesses he leaves in his wake. But the man who had me pinned against the fridge, his body hard and thrumming with barely leashed power... he was more than just a thug. There was something haunted in those green eyes, a flicker of hunger and self-loathing that called to me on a bone-deep level.
"I told him I wouldn't pay," I say softly, bracing for Mia's reaction.
"You what?" She grips my shoulders, giving me a little shake. "Are you insane? Do you know what he could do to you, to this place?"
"I can't give in to extortion, Mia." I meet her gaze steadily, my resolve hardening. "This diner is more than just a business. It's a safe haven, a little slice of sunshine for people who have precious little light in their lives. I won't let Declan O'Connor taint that with his greed and violence."
Mia's expression softens, her fierce worry melting into exasperated affection. "You always did have more heart than sense, Ash." She pulls me into a quick, hard hug. "Just promise me you'll be careful, okay? Don't go catching feelings for some sexy mob enforcer just 'cause he's got killer green eyes and an ass you could bounce a quarter off of."
A strangled laugh escapes me, even as heat prickles under my skin at the memory of said ass flexing in tight black jeans. "Trust me, that's the last thing on my mind."
Liar, a voice whispers in my head. But I shove it down, along with the lingering ache in my chest. Whatever this crackling tension is between me and Liam, it's a complication I can't afford. Not when so much is at stake.
The rest of the day passes in a blur of clinking dishes and sizzling grease, the comforting rhythms of diner life. I lose myself in the work, trading quips with Mia and fussing over my regulars, determined not to let my run-in with Liam throw me off balance.
But all that careful composure flies out the window when the bell over the door jingles and I look up to see him stalking toward the counter like a sleek, predatory cat. He's ditched the coat and roll-neck, opting for a plain white T-shirt that hugs his muscular chest and biceps. The spicy, masculine scent of him hits me like a physical blow as he settles on a stool, his glacier eyes finding mine with unnerving directness.
