Asher: Heartless Devils MC Read Online Free Page A
Author: Kathryn Thomas
long. Asher hands were strong and firm, much like the rest of him. Her eyes flitted around the apartment, her gaze finding everything in the room except Asher as her blush faded. She didn’t want him to know what his touch had done to her, how weak she really must be.
No, she had to keep her game face on. If her father found out something had happened between her and his right hand man, his heart would break. It had been his intention, for as long as she could remember, that she grow up to have a strong career in a legitimate business and a marriage to a respectable man—preferably with his own money, but that wasn’t necessary as long as his intentions were pure. To wind up in any kind of relationship with the rough and ready Asher, other than guard-guarded, was unspeakable. She needed to sort herself out and forget about any uncouth ideas. It simply would not work. But the silence had to be broken.
“What would you like for dinner?” she asked, her voice loud in the silence. Asher looked up from his cup with a start.
“Nothing in particular, I’m not fussy. Take out is fine,” he said casually.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Takeout is so bad for you. I don’t mind cooking, just tell me what you like.”
“Italian?” he suggested, somewhat bewildered.
“Wonderful. Let’s set up. You chop; I’ll cook.”
Jenny directed him around her kitchen but stopped short of asking him to wear an apron. She feared that her frilly English housemaid apron may be too much for his machismo to bear. As she stirred the browning onions, her eyes kept wandering to his busy hands. He handled the knife with skill, delicately chopping fresh tomatoes and oregano, his long, wide fingers almost tender in their actions. She couldn’t help herself, but she made sure her glances were furtive to ensure he didn’t notice, that her humming remained casual, and the small amount she needed to say to him was kept unemotional.
Throughout the meal, it was as if they were in a particularly dull play. They spoke little, and even then, the conversation was strained. After washing up, Jenny retired to her room, as much to give them some space as due to exhaustion. She showered and fell into bed, drained from the day’s activities. She tried to study for the upcoming exams, but she couldn’t focus. She could hear the television in the front room, as he watched some sporting event from the sound of it. She didn’t want to stay in her room, but she didn’t want to be around Asher either, worn down by the tense blandness of the evening.
Finally, well before her normal bedtime, she gave up pretending to study when she thought she could finally succumb to sleep. As she lay there, waiting for sleep to take her, the words of her father returned to her and the creeping sleep disappeared in an instant.
How could she let herself drift into slumber after her father had revealed that her mother’s death was a murder and there was nothing she could do? She wasn’t allowed to reap the justice she craved. She was impotent, unable to raze her adversaries to the ground, and perhaps their club as well. The Devils could be in serious trouble if they were to lash out without thought, and she understood that, but to allow her mother’s death go unanswered was more than she could live with. As she lay there, she tossed and tumbled, her sheets and blankets becoming a tumultuous mess around her.
The tears started trickling from her eyes. Slowly at first, like the starting drops of a fall shower, but then they gathered speed and tempo, and soon her whole body was wracked with sobs. She couldn’t help herself as the cries came, her whole body shaking with the effort of trying to keep herself together, her tears the result of a turbulent mixture of anger, resentment, frustration and fear.
Asher became still, trying to understand what he heard. He had turned the lights out a half-hour ago, but the damn couch was too
No, she had to keep her game face on. If her father found out something had happened between her and his right hand man, his heart would break. It had been his intention, for as long as she could remember, that she grow up to have a strong career in a legitimate business and a marriage to a respectable man—preferably with his own money, but that wasn’t necessary as long as his intentions were pure. To wind up in any kind of relationship with the rough and ready Asher, other than guard-guarded, was unspeakable. She needed to sort herself out and forget about any uncouth ideas. It simply would not work. But the silence had to be broken.
“What would you like for dinner?” she asked, her voice loud in the silence. Asher looked up from his cup with a start.
“Nothing in particular, I’m not fussy. Take out is fine,” he said casually.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Takeout is so bad for you. I don’t mind cooking, just tell me what you like.”
“Italian?” he suggested, somewhat bewildered.
“Wonderful. Let’s set up. You chop; I’ll cook.”
Jenny directed him around her kitchen but stopped short of asking him to wear an apron. She feared that her frilly English housemaid apron may be too much for his machismo to bear. As she stirred the browning onions, her eyes kept wandering to his busy hands. He handled the knife with skill, delicately chopping fresh tomatoes and oregano, his long, wide fingers almost tender in their actions. She couldn’t help herself, but she made sure her glances were furtive to ensure he didn’t notice, that her humming remained casual, and the small amount she needed to say to him was kept unemotional.
Throughout the meal, it was as if they were in a particularly dull play. They spoke little, and even then, the conversation was strained. After washing up, Jenny retired to her room, as much to give them some space as due to exhaustion. She showered and fell into bed, drained from the day’s activities. She tried to study for the upcoming exams, but she couldn’t focus. She could hear the television in the front room, as he watched some sporting event from the sound of it. She didn’t want to stay in her room, but she didn’t want to be around Asher either, worn down by the tense blandness of the evening.
Finally, well before her normal bedtime, she gave up pretending to study when she thought she could finally succumb to sleep. As she lay there, waiting for sleep to take her, the words of her father returned to her and the creeping sleep disappeared in an instant.
How could she let herself drift into slumber after her father had revealed that her mother’s death was a murder and there was nothing she could do? She wasn’t allowed to reap the justice she craved. She was impotent, unable to raze her adversaries to the ground, and perhaps their club as well. The Devils could be in serious trouble if they were to lash out without thought, and she understood that, but to allow her mother’s death go unanswered was more than she could live with. As she lay there, she tossed and tumbled, her sheets and blankets becoming a tumultuous mess around her.
The tears started trickling from her eyes. Slowly at first, like the starting drops of a fall shower, but then they gathered speed and tempo, and soon her whole body was wracked with sobs. She couldn’t help herself as the cries came, her whole body shaking with the effort of trying to keep herself together, her tears the result of a turbulent mixture of anger, resentment, frustration and fear.
Asher became still, trying to understand what he heard. He had turned the lights out a half-hour ago, but the damn couch was too
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