Page 83 of Gravehouse

His fingers catch mine, igniting a riptide of heat that travels right to my toes.

“Hey.” The gentleness in his tone gives me whiplash.

I tense, and his mouth snaps closed. He noticed.

“You think I fucking like this?” He tugs my finger, forcing me to look down at him.

I rip my hand free, but he catches it again, eyes narrowing.

Seconds crawl between us.

“And what exactly isthis?” I snap, emotional intelligence bottoming out.

He doesn’t answer.

Words die in my throat, and every second his hand holds mine the burn only deepens.

I pull away again, and this time he lets me. Before he can say something that’ll leave me purring in his lap like a pathetic fucking house cat, I rush down the hall and shoulder past Atlas. The bedroom door clicks shut behind me as my back hits the wood.

My head thumps against it, once, twice.

I hate this. I want out.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I start counting backward from twenty.

With one step left between me and the door, it flies open. Asher kicks it shut behind him. The slam drowns out whatever Atlas was shouting down the hall.

Coming closer, he tilts his head. “I know why I’m mad, but why thefuckare you mad?”

“Why am Imad?” Fire rushes through my veins. I dig my fingers into my palms before I finally fucking swing. “Maybe because why the fuck am I here, Asher?”

He leans back against the door with a low exhale, his gaze never leaving me. “You know why.”

I spread my arms wide, sarcasm coating every word. “Oh, because you want revenge?” I hold them there. “Then here. Have at it. Get your revenge, but make it fucking quick.”

His jaw tightens, a muscle ticking along it. Taking its time, his gaze travels over me as warmth licks across every inch it touches.

My voice breaks. “I can’t do this, Asher.” I swallow. “I told you. I wasn’t pretending. It was all real. Parker was my job, has been since I was a fucking child.”

I stop. Shit. The word vomit really needs to chill.

Clearing my throat, I shift my weight back, but he’s already closing the distance.

He takes his time between each word. “What do you mean?”

My gaze snaps to his. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”

He lifts his hand, but I step back, the space between us charged with tension.

“You were real,” the admission is rough, like my body tried to force it back down. “I never?—”

His shoulders draw tight as his features harden.

Pressing my lips together, I try to do what I was trained to do. Shut the fuck up. Only I’ve never been able to do that around him.

Asher steps in close enough that I have to tip my chin up.

“Never what?” His hand flexes at his side, blue eyes fixed on my mouth like he can drag the rest out of me if he really wanted.