13 - don't let them see you cry, whatever you do

126 3 3
                                    

I pull the door open, the cold air hitting me

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

I pull the door open, the cold air hitting me. Asher stands tall in front of me. He has on full black. Black jeans, black shirt, and an oversized black leather jacket. His hair looks perfectly fluffy and messy, too.

Fuck.
He didn't even try to dress up and he's still hot.

The wind blows by causing his scent to drift right towards me. My head gets woozy as I take in his smell.

His jaw drops a little and his lips turn into a hungry little smirk. His eyes roam down my body, stopping once at my chest, and then they keep going down to my bare legs.

"You look," he steps in front of me. He places his hands on my waist, pulling me closer. "So sexy," he whispers.

I smile, my cheeks burning a bit. "Thanks, not so bad yourself."

He looks down at me with a smirk on his face. "Oh, love, I don't compare to you."

He tilts my chin up, pulling my face closer to his. "You made a mistake looking like this tonight. You won't be able to get rid of me the whole night."

I smile a little, trying to look down and hide my reddening cheeks. But Asher pulls my face back up and connects our lips.

He kisses me and pushes me against the doorframe. My judgment instantly clouds, but some part of me knows we need to stop. We agreed to not kiss until the party.

And here I am, giving into him again.

It's not my fault. He might be slightly annoying but he also happens to be a really good kisser. His lips are, oh my gosh.

I muster up the strength and pull away. "No, no, no. I told you, we're not going to kiss till later," I breathe, barely able to open my eyes.

He has my lipstick all over him now.

He groans and ducks his head into my neck. "You should have thought about that when you decided to look like that," he breathes.

He begins kissing my neck and I close my eyes involuntarily, curving into him. His soft hair tickles my face as his lips move against my skin.

"Wait, wait. Stop." I pull him off of me.

"Why can't I kiss your neck, you let me last night," he whines.

"That's exactly why. I have makeup on my neck because you left hickeys all over me."

He smirks a little. "Oh."

"Is my makeup messed up," I ask, turning my neck towards him.

"A little, but don't fix it. I want everyone to see that you're mine."

My stomach drops to my toes when he says that. My whole body turns molten. I am so sick of him saying things just to make me nervous.

"Here, you have my lipstick on you," I reach up and start wiping it off with my thumb.

For The PressWhere stories live. Discover now