Asa (Marked Men #6) by Jay Crownover Page A

it on the back of one of the chairs that sat at the table. I took the sheets and blanket he shoved at me before he turned and headed to what I assumed was the bathroom.
    I sank to the edge of the bed and stared blankly at the cracked-open door. I set the bundle in my arms down next to me and tried to get my head around what was happening. This was absolutely not what I had pictured coming home with the sexy southerner to be like. I was sure once it was just the two of us, alone, the undeniable heat and chemistry that popped and sizzled between us would reach a bursting point. Then I would finally get all that I knew Asa had to offer directed at me. I wanted that smooth charm, that effortless sexiness, and all the turbulent desire I knew was lurking just below the surface of his good-ol’-boy façade. I sighed and looked at his abandoned cell phone, wondering if I really should call someone to rescue me. It was starting to seem like Asa’s desire to save me from what he clearly thought was going to be a mistake was far stronger than my desire to make that mistake.
    I got up and went to crack open the door to the bathroom enough that I could tell him I was going to call a cab and head home. I wasn’t going to kick him out of his bed when he obviously didn’t want me here. I already had enough things in my life making me feel bad about myself; I didn’t need to chase after more rejection from Asa.
    “Hey, I’m just gonna …” I trailed off as my tongue suddenly forgot how to work and all thought fled.
    Of course there wouldn’t be a full-sized bath and shower in this tiny apartment. Just a shower stall enclosed in barely frosted glass that hid nothing. The steam from the shower wasn’t enough to obscure the sight before me, and my hand pushed the door open the rest of the way like it was operating independently from the rest of me.
    He had one arm bent above his head with his forehead resting on it as the water cascaded down around him. He turned to look at me as the door opened. Even with the shower steam and the hazy glass between us, I could see his brilliant gaze lock on mine as his other arm moved to work his fist up and down an impressive erection that was obviously meant for me.
    I knew I should shut the door and turn away. It was his space, his private moment, but I couldn’t do it and I was equal parts turned on and furious watching him as he worked himself over all while he watched me unblinkingly. He was beautiful; it was beautiful. Yet I was so mad that after all the ways in which I had made it clear to him that he could have me, he would rather self-gratify than take me to bed, that I was having a hard time appreciating all that beauty even if I was transfixed by the sight. He was wasting something that was rightfully mine and I wanted to scream at him to stop, to ask me to join him under the water and put that throbbing evidence of his arousal to better use, but I was stunned into silence, rooted to the spot by twin spikes of passion and fury.
    He was all long, lean lines and taut golden skin. His blond hair was slick, shades darker from the water, and his eyes shone out of his face like something was lighting them up from deep within him. The muscles in his arm and across his broad shoulders flexed and danced as his hand moved over the thick, impatient-looking arousal that hung prominently between his legs. His defined abs contracted then released as he let out a long groan after a few more purposeful strokes brought him to completion. His entire body jerked just a little and I could swear he mouthed my name as he came, but that might have been wishful thinking on my part. His fist relaxed and he blinked slowly at me while reaching out with a hand to push open the shower door. We stared at each other for a long silent moment and I put a hand up to my throat because I felt like everything I wanted to say to him was stuck there.
    “You suck and I kind of hate you a lot right now.” My words were raspy