Home > Asher (Wolves of Winter's Edge #3)(11)

Asher (Wolves of Winter's Edge #3)(11)
Author: T.S. Joyce

That man was some kind of magic.

Frowning so deeply her face hurt, she stood with the covers still wrapped around her like a burrito, and she padded to the door. She closed it gently and stepped back. There was a black duffle bag in the corner she hadn’t noticed last night. Crap. This wasn’t the guest room after all. This must’ve been Asher’s room.

Cheeks on fire, she bustled into the on suite bathroom and turned on the tap water. She kept waiting for that dirty feeling to show up—the one where she’d gone too far with a boy and had regrets—but it didn’t appear. Strange, because Asher had bolted like he couldn’t get away from her fast enough. She should feel mortified right now, but mostly, she was just baffled by the man.

Why had he been sleeping beside her? Bitey, growly, mysterious man, who made her body revolt just by leaving her—Asher was an enigma she was suddenly desperate to learn more about.

But she shouldn’t. This wasn’t about her chasing a guy. This trip was about Blaire, and Ashlyn couldn’t get snared into staying here longer out of curiosity for Asher.

She needed to shower, meet up with Blaire and her new-best-friend-Mila, eat some pancakes, and focus on dragging Blaire back to civilization.

Gentry was a magician, clearly, who mucked with Blaire’s mind.

Roman was a mouthy nudist.

And Asher was the scariest of all. He was too interesting for his own good, too sexy, and too beguiling.

The sooner Ashlyn got Blaire on the road to the airport and escaped this weird-ass town, the better.

She showered and readied for the day in a daze, her mind circling round and round what had happened in bed. Her body was still revved up, wanting more, desiring something she couldn’t understand with a man who was utterly dangerous to her heart. He’d shown his colors. Asher Striker was a runner. She’d barely spoken to him, but already he’d run three times. The first few minutes she’d met him, he’d tried to escape into the house, then he’d almost kissed her in the dark and gone straight out the back door, and then there was this morning. That was an epic flee. Spooge on her back and then sprint for the door?

She needed to stop thinking about him asap.

Once she made it downstairs, hitting every damn, creaky board on the way down, the living room and kitchen were empty. Thank goodness! With a sigh of relief, she pulled on her pink jacket, flipped off the pink ski pants Asher had made fun of, then made her way out the front door as she wrapped a purple scarf around her neck.

She felt better the second she stepped out into the crisp mountain air. Inhaling noisily, she closed her eyes and let the wind touch her cheeks. This was good. Positive thinking conjured positive results. She could do this. Blaire would be convinced today how very un-normal her behavior was, and they would laugh about this over cocktails at their favorite bar back home in a month’s time.

Shifting her oversize purse onto her shoulder, Ashlyn turned for the porch steps, but froze in her tracks when she spied the giant sitting on the swing. Asher was still, watching her with eyes such a light blue it was hard to look at them, and just as hard to look away.

He wore a black sweater that clung to the curves of his muscular arms. The neck was wider, showing a peek at a curve of ink she couldn’t read under his left collarbone. His lips were pursed into a thin line under his blond beard, and his fair brows were lowered and troubled looking.

“H-hi,” she said lamely.

“Are you okay?” His voice came out gruff, as if he hadn’t used it in a while.

It was a strange question, and one she hadn’t expected, so she shrugged up one shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“Are you sick?”

“Like perverted? I mean…maybe a little.” Lie, she was one hundred percent perverted.

Asher’s lip twisted up into a fast smile right before he ducked his gaze to the steaming mug of coffee cupped in his massive hands. He was hiding it, but she’d seen the hint of a grin, and something inside of her grew desperate to see it again.

“I meant, do you feel well this morning?” Nope, he wasn’t even trying to look at her anymore.

She should go. Just…walk to her car and speed out of the icy parking lot and not look back. But as rough around the edges as Asher seemed with his muscles and tattoos and his tendency to bolt the second things got real, he had been gentle during the almost kiss last night, and had made sure she had an orgasm before he took care of himself this morning. And he was sitting here, perhaps waiting for her, and asking if she was okay. To her, that counted for something. So Ashlyn went against her better judgement and made her way to the swing, hesitated only a moment before she sat beside him stiffly.

“I feel…confused.”

Asher handed her the mug of coffee without looking at her. A peace offering? Or an apology perhaps because he wasn’t responding.

Okay. She took the mug and tried again. “Was I sleeping in your bedroom?”

“My dad’s bedroom,” he said, twitching his head and staring out across the property toward a frozen lake.

“Where is your dad?”

Asher slid her an icy look, then flicked his gaze to something beside her before he gave his attention again to his clasped hands dangling between his knees.

For some reason, Ashlyn didn’t want to turn around and look beside her. The temperature seemed to drop ten degrees in an instant, and instinctively, she scooted closer to Asher.

“What happened this morning...” He clenched his jaw and leveled her with that frosty blue look. “It was a mistake. A moment of weakness. You’re so… I messed up, but I’ll be more careful.”

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