Beyond the Horizon (Sons of Templar MC #4)(42)

“Wanna give me some explanation as to why you’ve been spending your nights at strip clubs?” Asher asked softly, his finger trailing up and down my arm.

I took a long pause. “I told you, I needed time,” I said finally.

Asher squeezed me. “I don’t think you did, flower. Now I’ve got you in my arms, thoroughly f*cked, I know the last thing you needed was time. You were scared,” he observed, correctly I might add. “And when I said I’d give you time, I didn’t expect you’d spend it in strip clubs with sleazy f*cks like Carlos Leith,” he added in a hard voice.

Thoroughly f*cked was one way to put it. Asher had damned near pounced on me the moment we made it through my door. Well, after he made me stand at the front door and do a “walk through.”

“No boogeymen hiding under my bed?” I deadpanned when he’d stopped in front of me after his inspection.

He had frowned. “Don’t like you in this place, and I’m fixin’ that window. Tomorrow. Now, I f*ck you.”

And he had. Against the door. Then in my bed. Now we were here. My body felt like jelly, and everything was delightfully fuzzy around the edges, thanks to residual alcohol and the ability for the world to fall away when Asher was with me.

I realized we were in that silence, one Asher hadn’t tried to fill, hadn’t urged me to talk. He merely resumed lightly tracing my arm, letting me process.

“You don’t mind silence,” I observed.

He tilted my chin so chocolate eyes met mine. “I’ve got you in my arms, I’m in your bed. After almost two weeks of only hearing that sweet voice on the other side of the phone. I know you don’t like yabberin’ at the best of times, unless you’re with me, angry, or liquored up, somethin’ I learned tonight.” His eyes twinkled. “You need time to sort shit in your head, need time to process. I get it. I’m quite happy to give you that, as long as you’re naked in my arms,” he told me softly.

My belly did a little dip. He knew me. Saw right into me. After one night three years ago, and a few hours in my presence since then. It was unnerving.

“This is unnerving,” I vocalized my last thought. “This, us … it’s too intense. Too quick. I’m not ready,” I whispered.

Asher gave me a long look. “It is too intense,” he agreed. “Don’t know how to make it any other way. I know I wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s right, you know it. You’re ready. You’re just scared. Shit that went down with your mom, flower that’s marked your beautiful soul. Damaged it,” he stroked my cheek lightly. “Bruised those delicate petals. It’ll heal. Might not mend quite the same, it’ll always hurt, but I plan on being right here while you figure out how to heal it,” he promised. “I’m done with the space. With the frustration of hearing the pain in that voice on the other end of a phone.”

I blinked away the tears his words were causing. The pins and needles I felt as he prodded at my mind, the place where the big sad was hiding, lurking.

“I don’t know if I can do that, be what you want me to be,” I choked out, truth to my words but also self-preservation. I’d just suffered a devastating loss, and I was setting myself up for it all over again. Cancer might not steal him, nor death, but probably boredom, reality. Realization that I wasn’t that girl, whoever he thought she was. I wasn’t special.

Asher’s eyes were resolute. “I don’t need you to be anything but who you are. My girl,” he replied with certainty.

At that moment, I didn’t want to argue, didn’t want to push him away in order to save myself. I was willing to sacrifice the future Lily’s emotional health for the current Lily’s survival. Because right now, being Asher’s girl, for however long, was something that I needed.





“Bex!” A high pitched voice screamed as soon as we tumbled out of our ride.

“Nat!” Bex’s less high pitched scream was directed at a slim woman with a head full of ashy blonde hair. Her outfit had me openly gaping at the sheer amount of skin the silvery bandage dress was showing, her sky-high heels looking like something even I would tumble down from. She was grinning warmly and drunkenly at us as we approached.

It was the night after Asher had told me I was “his girl.” Something that would have normally had me floating on cloud nine, yet it barely had me paddling in the ocean of grief I was stranded in. Belonging to the man I’d loved for three years may have been something good, something great, but it didn’t automatically erase everything else bad in my life. Especially when he had to leave early this morning for work, with no time to talk about him turning up at the strip club, or about what the heck was going on between us. I hadn’t been mad. A little part of me had been glad. Looking into to his eyes was like forcing myself into looking into me. Into what I was running from. I didn’t need that. I needed oblivion. Hence the fact I was in yet another of Bex’s outfits, filled with Bex’s homemade cocktails and at a club that was nowhere near my scene.

“Perfect timing,” Nat exclaimed as we cut in the front of the line beside her.

There were a couple of whiny grumbles from a group of girls behind us. We ignored them. Well, I ignored them, trying to shy away from any potential conflict. Bex flipped them the bird before turning to hug Nat.