The Girl's Got Secrets (Forbidden Men #7)(125)

“Dios,” I gasped before screaming, “?Oh, Dios mío! Asher...”

I swear he passed out the very moment he finished, because he remained motionless on top of me, his forehead pressed to my shoulder. But then I stroked his back and he stirred.

“Don’t move.” He wrapped his hand around my hip even as he sat up. “I’m just going to get rid of this. Be right back.” He glanced back at me as he stood. “Do you need anything?”

I checked between my legs, and winced. “Yes, please.”

With a nod, he disappeared into the bathroom. I listened to the sink water run and turn off again before he returned to me and handed over a washcloth he’d wetted with warm water.

“Gracias.”

I cleaned myself and he sat beside me, watching with drowsy but intent eyes. With any other guy, that probably would’ve weirded me out. But I don’t know. With Asher, it was different. Intimate. Almost bonding. I wasn’t sure how to explain it.

When I was finished, he took the washcloth from my hand and tossed it across the room toward a laundry basket full of dirty clothes.

“You’ll stay the rest of the night?” he asked, turning back to me.

My resistance was already shot to hell, and I was beyond relieved that he wasn’t shoving me out after he’d gotten what he wanted, so I nodded. “Sí.”

“Good.” He crawled back onto the mattress with me and under the covers, curling himself behind me as he wrapped an arm across my waist. “I like sleeping with you.”

I closed my eyes and told myself this didn’t mean he forgave me. None of the beauty that had just transpired between us meant anything. He was still drunk. He could, and probably would, regret everything in the morning. I shouldn’t get my hopes up.

But as I snuggled back into him, I sighed and began to get sleepy comfortable.

Right before I dropped off, I murmured, “I love you,” in English.

His arm around my waist tightened a fraction, tugging me against him just a little bit firmer.

But he never said it back. And as much as it made the raw ache in me grow, I hadn’t expected him to repeat the sentiment.





I slept in later than I intended to. But it was okay, Asher was still passed out, breathing deeply, next to me. I had plenty of time to sneak out before he woke. Except I wasted a couple seconds gazing at him with utter awe, unable to believe I’d gotten one more night with him.

He was so freaking beautiful.

I loved how his lashes rested with such tranquil serenity against his cheekbones, and his lips just barely parted to let out each even breath. His hair swept crazily across his forehead, dark locks mixing in with blonder highlighted threads, and I couldn’t help myself. I reached out to sweep it gently across his forehead.

And of course, the silken locks called to me, begging for more. So I combed two fingers through a few more pieces. My gaze wandered down over his golden bare shoulders to where white sheets were tucked up under his armpits.

I liked knowing he was a side-sleeper. I was a side-sleeper, too. Maybe in some alternate reality, we could’ve actually side-slept more nights together, spooning throughout our sleep.

But in this reality, he was still pissed at me for being a f*cking liar, and he’d only slept with me because he’d been drunk and horny off his ass. And I really needed to get out of here before I woke him and stirred up a whole hornets’ nest of awkward.

I didn’t want to know if he was pissed at me for taking advantage of him in his non-sober state last night. No, I was going to end this on a happy, beautiful note, with him sleeping peacefully and my body all deliciously sore from his recent lovemaking.

Grabbing my clothes as soon as I slid as quietly and easily from the bed as possible, I dressed in the half dark and clutched my shoes to my chest so I could tiptoe toward the stairwell.

But from behind me, a sleep-clogged voice asked, “Leaving so soon?”

I gasped and whirled around, slapping my hand over my heart. “Oh, shit. You’re awake.”

“Yeah,” he said. His voice still raspy, he sat up and ran his hands through his hair to cup the sides of his head. The sheets fell to his waist, revealing a warm, toned chest that made my mouth water.

I wanted to return to him so bad, crawl back under the covers and cuddle into his heat, stay for the rest of my life. But...yeah.

Reality was such a bitch.

And in reality, he winced, reminding me he must be suffering from a hangover and was truly sober for the first time in hours. Sober and cognizant. Which was why I was sneaking out and should stay away from his bed and delectable body...before he kicked me out and yelled at me for being a tramp who couldn’t keep her hands off him when he was vulnerable and out of his own mind.

I winced, feeling his pain. “Sorry, I wanted to be out of here before you woke.” Shifting my weight from one bare foot the other, I bit my lip. “In case, you know, you regretted last night and didn’t want to see me.”

He stopped clutching his head and dropped his hands to his lap so he could look at me. When he said nothing, I shifted again, growing more uncomfortable than ever.

Looking up at the ceiling, I cleared my throat and asked, “So, do you? Regret it?”

He didn’t answer immediately, and I couldn’t handle the suspense so I shifted my gaze back to him. He wasn’t reassuring me, telling me he regretted nothing, so that had to mean he did. He must wish last night between us had never happened.