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My stomach rumbled, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten all day. I glanced around the room, thinking maybe the housekeeper had left a small snack, a bag of peanuts, a water, or anything to prevent me from heading downstairs right now, but my search came up empty.
 

I pulled myself from the deliciously warm confines of the bed and padded barefoot across the room and quietly opened the door.
 

Silence. The house was vast. In the darkness, its beauty was now shrouded in shadows, making it look like a mausoleum.
 

I opened the door wider and took a few tentative steps, my eyes searching up and down the hallway for any sign of life. Asher’s door was still tightly closed, no light underneath. Maybe he'd gone to bed already. I frowned, thinking he would have at least come to get me for dinner, right?

My stomach chose that moment to roll again, and with renewed determination I ghosted down the sweeping staircase in search of the kitchen. I rounded the corner and stumbled into the broad wall of Asher. With my hands pressed at his rock solid chest, my cheeks flared crimson.

“You okay?” His eyes widened in concern, his palms clutching both of my elbows to steady me. Other than the boys, no one had ever really asked me that question. He seemed thoughtful. He seemed kind.
 

“Yes, I’m sorry.” I dropped my hand, embarrassed and flustered.
 

“I’m assuming you’re coming down because you’re starving.” His arms released me then, and I instantly missed the contact. “I’m sorry I forgot to feed you. I just remembered to throw this thing in now.” He gestured to a casserole dish, red tomato sauce slathering its contents. “I’m not even sure what it is.” His eyes narrowed as if the food had offended him in some way.
 

“It looks frozen.” I pressed a fingertip to the porcelain and found it cold. “It would take at least forty minutes to heat through. Maybe there’s something else that’s quicker.” I said, my eyes on the clock hanging above the fridge. It was already after ten.
 

Asher smiled. “I’m sure we can find something.” He placed the foil over the dish and returned it to the fridge.
 

“Just a sandwich is fine with me.” Asher Strong made me feel comfortable, and the realization startled me. I had lived my life in the shadows, always careful to be invisible. I learned at a young age that if no one sees you, then they can’t hurt you. Yet this man made me feel a calm I had not known in a very long time. Asher was kind. Asher made me feel safe. Better yet, he made me feel wanted. I studied his strong, stubbled jaw. His eyes seemed so harsh but radiated something soft and gentle. He looked like a man who’d lived a hard life in his own way. I knew very well that money didn’t make people happy, and even though from the outside it looked like Asher had everything, there seemed to be a void that he was desperately looking to fill.
 

Asher’s eyes caught mine from across the room and held for a moment before tracing down my body. His stare felt like a summer’s kiss from the warmth of the sun.
 

I swallowed, feeling the bite of his gaze, and for the first time I welcomed the hunger I saw in a man’s eyes.

“I'm sorry. I’ve been a terrible host already.” He rushed across the room to me, his hand reaching out to touch my inner elbow when he was close enough. “You haven’t even changed.” His fingertip trailed up my inner bicep to curl around the strap of my dress. My breathing picked up as my stomach coiled with new desire.
 

I averted my eyes, unable to hold his intense gaze for longer. I pegged him to be around thirty, and incredibly handsome in that rugged sort of way. A man who would age well, the smile lines deepening, the laugh lines only adding to the charm.
 

Raw, primal sexuality seemed to seep from his pores and invaded my senses, causing me to lose all coherent thought, only thinking about what he might taste like. If his lips would feel rough or gentle pressed against my own.
 

“I’ll take you upstairs and show you around after we eat. I’m not sure how Peggy laid out your clothes, but we should be able to find something better suited for you to…” He trailed off then, the pause snagging my attention just as his fingertip hooked beneath the delicate strap of my dress, and he slowly moved it aside a few inches.
 

I swallowed my gasp of arousal and let my eyes flutter closed, feeling the touch of this man for the first time. The slow, tortuous, decadent touch of his skin against mine.
 

“Do you forgive me, beautiful?” I was shocked when his deep baritone hummed right at my ear, the warmth of his breath washing across my skin and sending goose pimples racing across my body.
 

“F-forgive you for what?” I asked, my brain foggy with his intoxicating presence.
 

“For being such a bad host. Not feeding you, not showing you around more.” He trailed off again as one fingertip danced across the curve of my shoulder, dipping below to my collarbone, following an invisible path that was only his to take.
 

A small sigh fell from my lips as I lost myself in his seduction. “Sure, there’s nothing to forgive.” I shuddered when he pulled away.

“Shaved prime rib okay?” Asher asked jovially from behind me, and I instantly wanted to spin around and land a kick on his shin. I knew it was a childish reaction, but how could he touch me like that, stand so close to me and then just turn around and talk lunch meat?
 

A small groan escaped my lips before I could stop it. “That’s fine,” I answered.

What I didn't expect was what came next. A low chuckle filled the kitchen and echoed off the glossy, gorgeous cabinets. For such a stern and disciplined man, he had a very boisterous laugh. It was contagious and heartfelt. “You sound irritated with me. Have I done something to displease you?” Asher asked, smiling an infuriatingly charming smile that highlighted his beautiful dimples.

I was enraged by the amusement in his voice, and I was instantly ready to snap at him, before I remembered my place. His eyes widened when he caught a glimpse of my expression, but I managed to control myself. “It’s been a long day.” I was tired and hungry and emotionally spent. My eyes flared as I couldn’t bring myself to bite my tongue, not completely. I waited, kicking myself and thinking I’d just stepped in it with him. Maybe he did in fact have a dark and dirty dungeon downstairs, and he would lock me in it for talking back.
 

“I knew you had fire.” Asher shook his head with a slow chuckle, then proceeded to stack bread and tomatoes and meat up for our sandwiches. I watched him silently, his deft hands putting together the basic meal, the simple act making me smile. It had been a very long time since a man had been kind to me, but I didn’t trust the illusion of safety. The men in my world had always been kind in exchange for something, and pretty girls always had something they wanted. Asher was playfully laughing at me, and the most surprising thing of all, I loved the sound of it barreling from his beautiful, full lips.

eight

Asher

I watched in quiet fascination as she picked at the sandwich I made. I’d never met a woman quite like her. Her generous curves surely pulled many men in, she was experienced in the act of being a coquette, I could see it bleeding from her eyes and that pretty red pout. A woman who wore red lipstick knew what she was doing, confident, eager, no pretense. She was seducing me.

“Don’t tell me you’re a vegetarian. I can make you a salad if you want. But you will eat. I require it,” I commanded, but she took nothing more than small nibbles.
 

“No.” Her eyes widened and trained on me. Her gaze was like a knife slicing my heart. It felt like she saw through me, saw past every wall I’d constructed around my heart, and was ripping me bare for her perusal.
 

She made me uncomfortable, she made me feel challenged, she made me feel more excitement than I’d ever felt.

“Is something wrong with the sandwich?” I pressed, urging her to speak, open up. The more she kept silent, the more my mind spun in circles wondering what she was thinking. I’d given her space tonight, let her settle in. I hadn’t heard a single footstep from her bedroom, which apparently meant she’d laid in bed. Dear God, I hoped she hadn’t been crying. Maybe she’d been napping. I couldn’t tell. She didn’t look so distressed, like she was ready to bolt out my door and never look back, but this girl was unpredictable. For some reason I didn’t trust the light behind her eyes. Her walls were taller than my own, I could see that. I’d expected that. I just hadn’t expected to be so damn turned on by it. I didn’t expect to see her as such an outright challenge. A beautiful, sassy challenge.
 

I sighed, standing up from the island and taking both of our plates to the sink.

“Maybe this will help.” I pulled a bottle of the most expensive wine I had from the rack and popped the cork.
 

“I’m underage,” she muttered, and my heart instantly fell. Oh yes, she was only eighteen.

“That’s right. Guess this is a learning curve for both of us.” I poured a tall glass for myself, then returned to her at the kitchen island.
 

“I didn’t say I hadn’t drank before.” Her eyes burned with amusement as they crawled from my glass and up to my face, landing on my lips when I took a slow swallow of the red wine.
 

I arched an eyebrow at her cheeky response. “Well, I wouldn’t want you to feel peer pressured or anything,” I flirted back, feeling a slow burn at the base of my spine hum to life. “And I am a man who likes to follow the rules.”

“Rules are boring. Maybe just a little sip?” She hummed and tipped the glass in my hands to her mouth, taking the smallest sip before licking her ruby lips so sweetly I almost came in my fucking pants.
 

This woman was going to be the death of me. And for two years I’d have her in my house, prancing around in her short dresses and those long curls that just begged to be wrapped around my fist while I kissed her. I took another long sip, then offered her the glass again. Her eyebrows arched before a slow smile split her lips, and she placed the glass at her lips and took another slow drink.
 

Her eyes fluttered closed, and I instantly saw her shoulders relax, the muscles in her jaw loosening, her smile lifting a little more at the corners.
 

“It’s good,” she said and licked her lips, one drop of red liquid hovering at one corner. On instinct, I pressed a thumb to the line of her top lip and swiped the offending drop away, sliding it in my own mouth to taste the sweetness. It was almost like kissing her, taking the wine off her lips and bringing it to mine. Almost like tasting her for the first time.

“Let me give you the tour,” I said, my head already feeling lighter from the wine and her. She only nodded, then took a few steps out of the room. I followed behind her, a hand at her back like the gentleman I prided myself on being, while my cock ached and flexed in my pants, desperate to see what she wore under that dress, and if the rest of her body tasted as sweet as that rogue little droplet at her lips.

“My office is back here. I spend most of my time here when I’m home, but I'm out at the office a lot, too. You’re free anywhere in the house, but please don’t go in here unless I’m home. This door stays locked at all times, but believe me, you’re welcome at any time while I’m working. I’m not one of those growly assholes that needs complete silence.”
 

“You have the same view I do.” She stepped up to the lone window in my office. “I love the weeping willow.” She hummed as her fingertip traced the glass, as if she were tracing the outline of the tree. “Do you ever swim in that lake?” she asked sweetly.
 

“No, but I have a boat, I’ll take you out sometime,” I offered, stepping closer to her, hovering just above her so I could take her in, scent her, feel the energy bouncing from her body to mine. She spun and looked up at me, her big eyes round and innocent, making my dick pound with every ragged breath of my body.
 

“Can you take me upstairs? I didn’t want to rummage around in the closets or drawers, and this dress isn’t exactly comfortable,” she said simply, and my heart instantly cracked. Because that was the heart of it, wasn’t it? At the end of the day, she was still a stranger in my house, and would probably always feel like she was because of the means by which I’d brought her here. I’d bought her, outright and without an ounce of shame on my part. She couldn’t grow to care for me. This was a job to her, a means to an end. I instantly regretted signing her up for this two-year stint. I should have offered her a trial period, sixty days or ninety, but I was so desperate to have her in my life that I didn’t think about anything other than having her here and away from the nightmare she called a life.
 

She'd only shown me the tip of the iceberg, I could tell there was so much more she couldn't bring herself to say just yet. However, she'd been victimized, it made me homicidal. I wanted to find every man who ever looked at her and rip them apart. The mere thought that any man had leered at her flesh made me see red. I could feel my blood boil, the anger looming over me. She was mine and I let that happen. I wasn’t able to protect her. Now she was here, and I had two years to show her that she belonged to me. I wanted so much from her, and nothing was enough until she knew she was mine. I wanted more.
 

I was twenty-eight, and I wanted someone to share this life with. Someone who mattered to me and someone I mattered to. Every woman I’d met before, whether on my own or on a blind date, I’d never felt that connection. I’d never been able to shake the feeling that there was something else out there for me. I had always been a man with a purpose. I didn’t like to waste time on tasks that I knew would lead me nowhere, women were no exception. I would be patient and wait, I knew one day she would be here and I would be complete.