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If it’s not okay for me to be with Asher, it’s not like it’s okay for me to be with Chase for all the same reasons. This is nothing more than harmless flirting, and he’s going to stay away like Asher claims he will. All the players will. It’s a coach-player-respect thing, much to my dismay.
But the thing I know about Asher is that he’s the wild card. Nobody ever knows what to expect out of him.
And that’s why it’s such a pleasant surprise when I’m waiting around the side of the building an hour later for my Lyft to take me home, and he saunters outside and moves in beside me.
It’s dark out here, and we’re alone—part of the reason why I moved to the side of the building when I knew his eyes were on me as I walked out.
Call it part of the game.
“You’re flirting with Morgan now?” he asks. “Just so you know, he’s a dog.”
“Jealousy looks hot on you, Nash.” I keep my gaze focused forward rather than glancing over at him, though it takes everything in my power to do it.
He moves so he’s standing in front of me, filling my line of vision. His eyes are hot on mine before they flick down to my lips. “Goddammit,” he mutters, and he boxes me in against the brick wall out here like he did inside the building the last timeI was here. His hand moves to my hip. “You’re making this so hard.”
I run my hand along the front of his pants. “Mm, you’re right.Veryhard.”
He shoves his hips against my hand, and he lowers his mouth to my neck. “I can’t, Des. I can’t do this, but I can’t stop thinking about you.” He thrusts his hips into my hand again as if to prove some point, and a thrill zips up my spine as a hot, aching need pulses between my thighs.
“One more night, Asher,” I murmur. I duck my head so my lips catch his, and he kisses me for a beat before we’re interrupted by headlights.
He jumps back, caught, and I let out a strained chuckle. “That’ll be my ride. Unless…”
He quirks a brow. “Unless what?”
I lift a shoulder. “Unless you want to leave together.”
He sighs, and it’s a strangled, throaty sound of frustration. “You know I can’t, but fuck, you’re tempting me.”
That’s sort of the idea. “Your loss,” I say with a shrug, and I walk over to the car waiting for me.
“You better not fucking wear another man’s number again.”
I laugh as I open the door and slide in. “Or what?” It’s a clear challenge, and I slam the door shut before he gets the chance to answer.
And then I wait for him to use the number I slipped into his palm earlier tonight.
Chapter 24: Asher Nash
Or I’ll Take It Off Myself
I stare at the number as I hold it in my hand and lean against my headboard later that same night.
What the fuck would I even say?
You got me all riled up and hot and horny and I need you to take care of it because jerking off in the shower isn’t nearly enough to erase the memory of your sweet, tight cunt and gorgeous tits?
That seems somehow…aggressive.
Maybe she likes aggressive. Who knows? I don’t because I haven’t taken the time to get to know a damn thing about her.
But I have her number.
I could use it. I could get to know her. I could do that and still keep my promise to Coach. I think back to our conversation. All he said is she doesn’t date football players, so I shouldn’t get any ideas.
He never said we couldn’t be friends.
You know…with or without benefits. Preferably with.
