The hawthorne brothers a.., p.27
The Hawthorne Brothers: A Complete Billionaire Romance Collection, page 27
Not again.
This time, I ignore her resistance and cup her face firmly as I pin her tongue down. I know she wants this. She wants me, too. I’ve seen it in her eyes. I just have to make her swallow her pride long enough to admit it.
She doesn’t. She just pushes even harder, and when I finally step back, she rewards me with a slap on my cheek and a knee to my groin.
What the fuck?
As the door slams in my face, I fall to the floor writhing in pain. I clutch my balls first, then my stomach, which feels like it’s turning inside out, burning and getting ripped to pieces all at the same time. My vision blurs. My head spins.
As my thoughts get muddled, most slipping away, one remains clear.
I’m going to make sure Violet pays for this.
Chapter Six
Violet
Maybe I shouldn’t have done that to Asher.
Remorse pricks me like a dozen needles as I crouch under the covers of my bed, which is where I’ve been hiding since I kicked Asher out of my apartment.
Kicked out? No. That’s not the right word. Slapped. Shoved. With my knee. To his groin.
Just the thought of how that must have felt for him makes me grimace as I lie on my back.
I am such a horrible, horrible person.
I didn’t mean to do it, I swear. I just… panicked when I realized I was doing the one thing I shouldn’t be doing. My adrenaline kicked in. Fight or flight. I tried to flee but Asher wouldn’t let me so I fought back. I slapped him. And then buried my knee in his groin.
I grip my hair. What have I done?
No matter what my excuse, I shouldn’t have done that. I should have just slammed the door in his face after telling him I didn’t want to play neighbors instead of falling under his spell again, getting myself carried away to the past before he broke my heart. I didn’t send him away soon enough. I lowered my guard, so he attacked. I let him in and then remembered I wasn’t supposed to so I tried to throw him over the wall. Which I did. And now, I feel sorry for it.
Not the slapping. He deserved that for not pulling away immediately when I started pushing him back. But the attack on his balls. That was too much.
What if his balls got broken? I mean what if they ruptured? What if he can never ejaculate again?
The more I think about it, the more the guilt gnaws at me. I get an urge to go next door to check on Asher, make sure he’s alright, but no. I have a feeling I’m the last person he wants to see right now. What do I do, then? Call 911 just in case he needs a doctor? What if he’s bleeding to death right now? Then again, if I call 911, the police might find out what I did. I could go to jail.
Fuck.
On second thought, I might not go to jail if I plead self-defense. But if I do that, won’t Asher be in trouble?
I shake my head. No. I’m not going to call 911. And I’m not going to check on him. He’s fine. I’m sure he is. Well, maybe not right now. Right now he must be in a world of pain. But he will be fine after he gets some rest and takes some pain relievers. Right?
Right. Asher is a strong, well-built man. He’ll be fine. I’m sure he’ll show up for work tomorrow. And when he does, I’ll apologize profusely. I’ll even bow my head and all and offer to do his work for him. He’ll have to forgive me, right?
I sigh.
Just to be on the safe side, maybe I’ll make pancakes.
~
I grip the container filled with a week’s worth of pancakes in my hand and take a deep breath before knocking on the door to Asher’s office.
“Come in,” he says.
I step inside. I find Asher behind his desk just like last time, in another crisp suit. Good. He looks fine.
He turns his head to look at me but says nothing. I open my mouth.
“I…”
“You should find somewhere else to stay,” he blurts out as he turns back to his computer screen.
My eyebrows arch. What?
“You’re old enough to find a place of your own, aren’t you? Besides, you’ve been in Chicago for… two weeks already, right? You should know the city by now.”
Not really. I’ve been mostly staying either here at the office or in my apartment. I haven’t had time to go sightseeing.
“Don’t worry. Wherever it is, it should be cheaper than the Mistral. In the meantime, you can stay at a hotel, which the company will pay for. Sounds good?”
Good? He wants me to move out of the apartment that I’ve fallen in love with and stay at a hotel until I find somewhere smaller and farther away from here. How can that be good?
“That’s…”
“You can take the afternoon off to move your things.”
Wow. He really can’t wait to get me out of his building, can he? Plus it seems he’s reached a new level of being unreasonable.
I know I did something wrong. I’m willing to apologize for it, to make up for it. I promise never to do it again. But it’s not like what happened is entirely my fault. And it definitely doesn’t warrant a punishment this severe.
I hold my chin high. “I’m not moving out.”
Asher looks at me. “I don’t believe I gave you a choice.”
I draw a breath. “It’s not your choice to give. It’s mine to make. And I choose not to move out.”
His eyebrows arch. “Wow. I knew you were stubborn. Obstinate. I didn’t think you were… shameless.”
“I’m not,” I tell him. “I am very sorry for what I did to you and I promise it will never happen again. If you want me to clean your apartment for a week, cook meals for you, get you coffee or take on extra work, I’d be happy to. But I’m not moving out.”
“So you’re not really sorry.”
“I am,” I insist. “But I think kicking me out of the building is too much.”
It’s unfair, really.
“You mean like shoving your knee into my groin?”
I frown. “Like I said, I’m sorry for what I did.”
Asher leans back in his chair and narrows his eyes at me. “Are you, Ms. Cleary?”
“But I’m not the only one who should be sorry. Don’t you think so, Mr. Hawthorne?”
His eyebrows furrow as dismay flickers in his ebony eyes. “Are you saying this is my fault?”
“I’m saying part of it is,” I answer. “After all, you were the one who came to my apartment.”
“You let me kiss you,” Asher points out.
True. “And then I tried to push you away.”
“You mean like you did last time? You haven’t changed. You’re still such a cocktease.”
“And you still can’t handle rejection.”
Asher falls silent but his gaze speaks volumes. He hates me. I can feel it. This isn’t just him being annoyed at me like he’s been before or him trying to be mean. I can see the pain in his eyes. He’s hurt. I hurt him—and I don’t mean just physically—so now he hates me. And I expected it. I told myself I could handle it, but that cold gaze stabs my chest more than I thought it would. Still, I keep my shoulders square as I look right into his eyes.
“I’m not moving out.”
His eyebrows twitch slightly. “I thought you didn’t want us to be neighbors. Or is that another thing you say you don’t want but deep down inside, you really do?”
Asher leans forward on his desk.
“Have you always been like this? Do you ever mean yes when you say yes and no when you say no? Or is it always maybe yes, partly no?”
I keep quiet. I was already prepared for a lecture when I entered Asher’s office. And if enduring his harsh words is my price to pay for him letting me stay at The Mistral, I don’t mind it.
“I know I sleep around, but I never lead women on or leave them hanging. That’s just pointless and exhausting. And cruel. But you seem to get a kick out of it.”
Ouch.
“Or do you? In spite of everything you’ve done, shoving your knee in my groin included, you don’t strike me as a heartless person, which makes me wonder. Are you really a secret sadist, or are you just a child disguised as a grown woman, clueless about what she really wants?”
I draw a breath as I try to shove his words aside.
“I never said I didn’t want us to be neighbors. I said we don’t have to act like neighbors just because we’ve realized we are. We can just go back to how we were when we didn’t know about it.”
“You don’t mind living next to someone you hate?”
I already know I don’t hate him, but I don’t tell him that.
“Or someone who resents you?”
So I’m right. He hates me now. Well, I’ll just have to live with that.
“I’m not moving out, Mr. Hawthorne,” I tell him again.
Asher shrugs. “Fine.”
Fine. I let out a breath as I turn around. That didn’t go that badly, did it?
“But Ms. Cleary.”
Of course Asher isn’t done yet.
I glance over my shoulder. “Yes?”
The gleam in his eyes looks like hell frozen over, making me nearly shudder.
“You’re going to wish you did.”
~
I am starting to wish I had moved out.
I cover my ears with the sides of my pillow after I hear another bang against the wall. They’re still at it? Seriously? Haven’t they been at it for… what, three hours now? That’s even longer than last time.
And louder, I think as I hear another bang.
I turn over so that I’m lying on my stomach and pull my pillow over my head in hopes that it will muffle the noise. It doesn’t.
I roll my eyes. You’d think that with the high rent, the rooms at The Mistral would have thicker walls.
Just then, I hear a scream. Or is that a screech? A howl? Do people even howl? If I wasn’t pissed, I would laugh at it, but since I am, I frown. Whatever that sound is, it’s weird. And unusually loud.
That’s right. It’s not the fault of the building that it’s noisy in my bedroom right now. Asher and whoever it is he’s with are just being extremely loud. And I’m guessing it’s on purpose.
The purpose? To drive me out of my mind, of course. And maybe my apartment.
That’s exactly why Asher has brought home a woman every night for the past several nights. And I mean every night. Once, I think he even brought two. Who does that? And each time, he makes it a point to let me know. The banging on the walls. The laughter. The moans. The screams. And there goes another one just now.
I wonder if Asher makes it a point to pick women who are loud, like he asks them if they’re loud in bed after they tell him their names—hilarious—or if he orders them to scream at the top of their lungs whenever he’s… doing whatever he’s doing to them. Because seriously, the noise is unreal. Asher can’t be that good.
Or is he?
I’ve tried not to mind the whole thing. The first time, I simply did my best to ignore the noise. And the images. Frankly, I think the images do more damage. I couldn’t. No one is that mentally tough. So the next night, I played music. Loud rock ballads. But I’ve never been a fan of rock and I’ve never been good at sleeping with music on, or doing anything with music on for that matter. So yeah, I didn’t get any sleep then either. The third night, I got earbuds, only to remove them after a few minutes because I couldn’t sleep with them on. They just felt weird.
After three nights of barely any sleep, I decided to spend the fourth in the living room. I finally did manage to get some sleep there, but I woke up with back pains which bothered me the whole day. I moved to the spare bedroom the following night only to get bitten by bedbugs. Great.
So here I am back in my bedroom as I should be. If I let Asher drive me out of my bedroom, who’s to say he won’t succeed in driving me out of my apartment next?
But damn it, I can’t stand the noise. And the images.
As the noises grow louder, the images in my head become more vivid. I imagine Asher pounding this loud, faceless woman up against the wall, her legs wrapped around his waist, her arms around his neck. I can see the beads of sweat on his back and the scratch marks from her nails from earlier. I can see the muscles moving, creating ripples in his skin. His pale, perfect, round ass doesn’t jiggle one bit as he jerks his hips.
I lick my lips.
The woman screams again. Even louder this time. She must be close. Then I hear another thud on the wall.
Asher must have put her down on the floor and turned her around. He’s fucking her from behind now. Hard. The woman’s hands are above her head, her wrists pinned by one of Asher’s hands. His other hand is on her breast. He squeezes it firmly as he jerks his hips. Heat floods my chest.
Each time Asher moves his hips, heat travels through my veins until it reaches every corner of my body. My breasts swell against the sheets. My belly catches fire.
The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the air. And something wet. I reach between my legs and feel a wet spot on my underwear. I rub against it and shiver.
Asher’s jaw clenches. His nostrils flare. Pure lust swims in the dark orbs peeking from beneath heavy eyelids. Then he opens his mouth.
“I’m… coming.”
My fingers move faster as Asher’s hips pick up speed. They stop and lips part. My body trembles as ripples of pleasure travel beneath my skin.
The woman cries out. Only, as my mind starts to clear, I realize it wasn’t the woman.
It was me. I made that sound. I… came. While listening to Asher have sex with another woman on the other side of the wall, imagining it was me.
Fuck.
I sit up and clasp my hand over my mouth as shame washes over me. Then I realize my fingers are wet. I stare at them and my stomach tightens. I suddenly feel sick.
What was I doing?
I run to the bathroom to wash my hands. I don’t look at my reflection in the mirror. I can’t bear to. I’m disgusted with myself for masturbating to the noise of my neighbors having sex. And not just any neighbors. Asher. I let him win. I let him take control of me without even touching me.
Does he have this much power over me? Or am I just that weak? At any rate, I feel like pounding my head against the bathroom wall.
Instead, I simply rest my forehead against the cold tiles. Once my temper has cooled somewhat and my breathing is no longer jagged, I step out. But then I hear more moaning from the other side of the wall and my temper simmers again.
No fucking way.
I’ve had enough, so I stomp over to the next apartment. I almost bring a knife, but I’m afraid I might end up committing murder, so I bring a pan instead. I bang that on Asher’s door.
After a few seconds, Asher appears. He runs his fingers through the waves of his sweat-drenched hair.
“Hey. What’s up?”
Against my will, my eyes dart towards Asher’s crotch, which thankfully is covered with part of a blanket. I mentally kick myself as I pull my gaze away—only to have it drawn to his bare chest instead, a ripped chest with a thin layer of hair running straight down the middle.
“Nice pan,” he says.
I transfer my gaze to it. “I thought I… heard something.”
“And you thought you’d give it a whack with a pan?”
I suddenly feel stupid, so I hide the cooking tool behind me.
Asher grins. “Don’t worry. It was just me and Carina having sex. Wild, kinky, mind-blowing sex.”
His choice of adjectives lights a fire in my cheeks. Damn him.
“Would you like to join in? I think we have room for one more.”
I look at him with narrowed, disgusted eyes. My fingers tighten around the handle of my pan.
“You know what? I should have smashed your balls when I had the chance.”
“You should have left the building when you had the chance. Or the company. Or the country.”
“I’m not moving out of anything,” I tell him firmly.
“Right.” He scratches his chin. “Because you can’t stay away from me, can you?”
My temper rises even more. “Bullshit.”
He leans against the door frame. “Why are you here, then?”
“You know why I’m here.”
“Because you got tired of just getting off on the sounds of me having sex and decided you want a piece of the action?”
My eyes grow wide as my cheeks turn red. How did he know I was…? I shake off the rest of the thought and glare at him.
“Because I heard you fucking like animals.”
“Why, thank you.” Asher mocks me with a grin. “That’s what real sex is like. Don’t you know? Oh wait. You don’t. You’ve never had sex.”
“I have.”
“Real sex? The kind that makes your toes curl, that makes every inch of your skin tingle…” His gaze travels down my body. “That makes you tremble beyond control until you lose your mind and can’t even remember your own name?”
I don’t answer because I have a lump in my throat.
“I’m guessing no,” Asher says. “That’s why you’re jealous, aren’t you?”
I swallow. “I am not jealous.”
His eyes goad me beneath furrowed eyebrows as his grin widens. “Are you sure?”
I take the pan out from behind me and lift it with both hands. My jaw clenches. My shoulders tremble in anger.
“Wanna hit me with that pan? Go ahead.” Asher extends his arms. “You can’t hurt me any more than when you buried your knee in my balls.”
His offer is tempting. Very tempting. But I put the pan down.
“I’m not a monster like you.”
With the pan in hand, I march back to my apartment. I throw it on the couch. Then I sit on the living room rug and bury my face in my hands.
I fucking hate you, Asher Hawthorne.
At least, right now, I really wish I could.
Chapter Seven
Asher
I stay in the doorway staring out into the hall even after Violet has disappeared into her apartment. I should be proud and happy because the fact that she came to my door to complain about my noisy night adventures means my plan has succeeded. I’ve made her life difficult, and though she insists she’s staying, I can tell she’s starting to think about moving out of the building. But I don’t feel even a sliver of joy or pride or accomplishment. I just feel like the monster she says I am.
