Page 52 of Scandal
“Yes. It allows women to explore their sexuality in a way that feels safe. Or maybe fulfill a need that’s otherwise missing in their real life, whether that’s a devoted partner or a satisfying sex life.”
“You seem to know a lot about romance.”
He shrugs. “I read a lot.” My brows shoot up, and he chuckles. “Not a lot of romance. I like thrillers and sci-fi. But I’ve read a little, and I know the genre gets a lot of flak. But it has merit, and I want to make sure you’re not ashamed to read what makes you happy.”
“I’m not ashamed. I’m just inexperienced.”
“With reading?” he replies with a frown. Then his eyes go wide, and he says, “Oh.Oh!”
I try to scramble off his lap again, because now I really am embarrassed. I cannot believe I said that.
I cannot believe I just said that…to him.
His grip tightens, and then he asks, “How inexperienced?” His eyes go wide, as if he can’t believe hejust said thatto me. “Shit, you don’t have to answer that. It’s none of my business.”
“Very,” is all I manage to say.
This time, when I make a move to get off his lap, he doesn’t stop me. I don’t know why, but it makes me a little sad. Is he going to treat me differently now? Is he going to tiptoe around me like I’m a fragile doll that can’t be touched?
I take a step back. Then another, wrapping my arms across my chest as he leans forward in the chair, looking up at me. “Define very. No, wait, don’t,” he sputters, clearly at odds with himself. “Just answer this. If we had to kiss in front of the press, it wouldn’t be your first kiss, right?”
The look I give him is all the answer he needs.
Suddenly, he’s on his feet. “Right, that won’t do.” He stalks to the bed and grabs a shirt from his duffel. “Put on some jeans and grab a coat. We’re going for a walk.”
“Why?”
“Your first kiss sure as shit won’t be in front of a bunch of money-hungry paparazzi. But it won’t be in this leaky shack either.”
“Who said I wanted to kiss you?” Butterflies flutter deep in my belly. I definitely want to kiss him.
His gaze falls to my neck, then roams up to my cheeks, which are now most certainly red. He grins. “You did.”
About five minutes later, I’m dressed and bundled up for the Scottish morning in jeans, a wool coat, and boots.
I ditched the hoodie.
It does not need to be part of this core memory. Although I’m still in denial, it’s actually going to happen.
“Ready?” he asks, as I stuff my phone in my pocket and nod.
We both head to the door. With every step, I feel my nerves start to rise. No, not nerves. Maybe it’s just anticipation. Excitement, even?
Asher Knight is going to kiss me!
He takes my hand, and all those feelings skyrocket a thousand percent as he turns the handle, pulls the door open, and nearly runs headfirst into Mac.
“Sorry, my lord!” Mac apologizes, steadying himself as Asher checks to make sure I’m all right.
“No problem, Mac. We were just headed out. The trays are in their usual spot and?—”
“Actually, I’m not here for the trays.”
“Oh?” Asher’s brow furrows.
A sullen expression settles on Mac’s face, as if he knows he’s about to ruin our day. “I’m here to collect your things. You’re to move up to the main house…immediately.”
So much for that walk.
