Fractured Fear (The Devils of New York #1)

Chapter 38

CHAPTER 38

SPENCER

T he day passes by at the pace of a sloth in New York traffic.

Extra. Fucking. Slow.

Laying down the law with Asher apparently has consequences. I don’t know what is with this large man having such a delicate ego, but punishing me because I told him to keep his hands to himself? It’s juvenile.

He hasn’t spoken a word to me all day. Everyone else? That is a different story.

Asher told Hayes he got in touch with his tattoo artist and is able to get him in for an appointment if he’s interested. He talked to Alma about her kids which had her batting her eyelashes at him as he fawned over the pictures she showed him on her phone. When Iris came by to eat lunch with Hayes, Asher charmed her with a smile that would make any woman swoon and willingly hand over her panties. He had her giggling like a preteen with uncontrollable hormones. The asshole even discussed the fucking economy with Paul. What started off as a conversation about Paul selling his teapots, turned into pricing and then morphed into supply and demand. The economy.

Are you kidding me?

But has the dimwitted giant uttered even a word in my direction? Nope. Not one.

Everyone can tell something is going on between Asher and me, judging by their glances that bounce back and forth between us. Today has been fucking peachy. Everyone is acting like Mom and Dad are fighting, which I guess you could say we are.

Oh! And the cherry on top. When I do look at Asher, half the time he’s staring at me with red hot lust in his eyes. Each time I felt electricity zap my chest and spread through my body causing my panties to dampen. I was tempted multiple times to go upstairs and change. I probably have a wet spot in between my legs. Just the reminder has my face turning bright red.

It doesn’t help that Zane wasn’t able to come by for lunch…again. He would have given me a reprieve from the man who suddenly turns mute when I’m within three feet of him.

When Asher came by my apartment this morning to walk me to work, he only nodded at Zane and Rio as they left. We didn’t even stop at The Mudhouse for coffee.

Maybe that’s what has me in such a state. Lack of caffeine. Yeah, that’s it.

Rationalizing my frustrations doesn’t do anything though. By the end of the day I am fuming. Fucking fuming .

How dare he? I’m the one who told him to make up his mind and here he is acting like I’m a pariah. Well fuck that and fuck him.

You know you would.

I roll my eyes at my inner voice and murmur to myself, “Fucking horny ass bitch.”

“What was that?”

I blink and look up at Hayes. I didn’t realize he was so close or I would have cursed Inner Spencer out loud.

“Nothing.” I shake my head at Hayes and utilize the motion to jar the angry voice swirling around in my skull. That bitch in there is helping no one.

“Okay, well I’m going to take off then. I got everything wiped down and put away.”

I blink again and realize everyone has gone home and it’s getting late. I normally close later, but it was Asher’s grand idea that I should close at five p.m. until my attacker is caught, and it wasn’t a suggestion he even brought up to me. No, no. He went behind my back and discussed it with Hayes, Alma, Paul, and Iris. They all agreed and Iris made temporary signs to hang in the door. That’s how I found out.

“Thanks, Hayes. See you tomorrow,” I say with a tight smile.

“Night!”

And just like that, it’s me and my mute bodyguard. I didn’t realize how much of a buffer everyone else unknowingly offered until now. The silence booms in my ears and tension fills every nook and cranny in the studio.

Turning my focus Asher’s way, I catch him once again giving me that look. The look that promises the most delicious punishment.

What the hell did I do to earn a punishment from him?

Nothing. That’s what. Setting boundaries doesn’t deserve punishment. It deserves fucking praise.

Instead of averting my eyes like I have all day, I hold his gaze and allow the burn to make my core ache, but I won’t let it show. If I have to suffer through his temper tantrum, so does he. I won’t give in. I am stronger than the urge of my ovaries to have this man’s babies.

When his eyes dip to the apex of my thighs I freeze. Shit. I was rubbing my thighs together.

Way to stay strong. You showed him.

Fucking hell. Damn Asher and his ungodly good looks. As my bodyguard, I should require him to wear a bag over his head and an extra long potato sack. I know it won’t do anything to quell my need. I already know the magic his lips hold and daydream about the way he could toss me around like a ragdoll.

Again, damn Asher for turning me into this sex-crazed woman I don’t recognize.

My chest heaves with each breath I take. I may be burning inside, but dammit if I won’t make him burn just as hot with me.

Knowing it will enrage him, I grab my things and head to the exit. He wants to be the first out the door, but I’m too angry to give him what he wants.

Suck it, big guy.

I throw the door open and dash out onto the pavement with Asher hot on my heels. He snags my elbow just as I make it outside. Ignoring his presence, like he did to me all damn day, I lock up and head up to my apartment. I can feel his eyes drilling holes into the back of my head.

I purposefully stomp my way up the stairs which serves twofold. First, it drowns out the sound of his heavy breathing. I thought the sound would satisfy me because then I would know he is right where I am—sexually frustrated and just plain angry—but instead it bumps my need to a new height. Specifically six feet and five inches high. Second, stomping will hopefully drain some energy thereby draining the desire clouding my senses.

I’m ready to head straight to my room and lock myself in there until the object of my pent up frustrations is gone.

Halting halfway there, I spin and come up with a new plan. I don’t know where this sadistic Spencer is coming from, but here she is in her boots that were made for walkin’.

Beelining for the kitchen and dropping my purse on the counter, I renew my calm, indifferent exterior. I lean onto one hip hoping it draws his attention to my ass. I may not know exactly what I’m doing, but I know it’s working when I hear the wrinkle of paper from behind me.

Scanning the contents in the fridge, my eyes land on the plastic container of red fruit and can of whipped cream. I do a quick rinse in the sink, place the strawberries in a bowl, and take my findings to the counter in front of Asher where he sits on a stool at the breakfast bar, leaving a good few feet between us.

Ripping off my oversized shirt leaves me in my plunge sports bra and leggings. I bought the bra because it gave my boobs an extra lift. I never thought I would wear it like this in front of another person, let alone a man like Asher, but now I’m high fiving myself for the purchase.

I know my plan is working when I see the paper from earlier take on more of Asher’s aggression.

I give him a little smirk, pick up the juiciest looking strawberry and take a bite allowing a single dribble of juice to trail down my neck and cleavage. Asher’s focus follows its path as it disappears in my bra. His attention makes me wish it was his hands, his mouth caressing me.

A flush breaks out across my skin and I suck in an audible breath as his eyes return to mine. If I thought they were burning before, it’s got nothing on the inferno blazing in them now. His rough hands grip the counter as if it’s his anchor keeping him from coming to me.

Pushing him further I take another bite and drag the remnants across my lower lip.

Abruptly, Asher jumps to his feet, kicking the chair behind him.

Oh shit.

Maybe I shouldn’t have poked the beast?