think he even realizes he’s doing it. His hand on the small of my back, his long fingers tucking my hair behind my ear, or stroking my skin with his calloused palm like he is now makes me realize how starved of human touch I’ve been for the last year.
“Put this back on. It will help with the swelling,” he urges me, lifting the melting bag of peas off the counter.
“I’m okay, I promise,” I reassure him, but he holds the bag in front of me until I take it with a sigh.
“Thank you. Now tell me from the beginning what happened.” His voice leaves no room for arguments, so I decide to just get it over with.
“I went back home—”
“This is your home now,” he interrupts me, making me roll my eyes.
“If you are going to keep cutting me off, this story is going to take forever to get through. As I was saying, I went to my old place to grab some of my art supplies and ended up packing everything while I was there. I didn’t even realize how much time had passed until I’d finished and noticed it was getting dark. I left, caught the train, and got back here just before the heavens opened.”
“What time was that? How long were you out in the rain?” he fires off, making me shake my head in exasperation.
“About an hour. I got here just before nine. Then, after the asshat kicked me out, I figured I’d be better off going back to my old place and maybe you’d look for me there. I would have found a cafe or somewhere to wait, but I’m not familiar with anything in this area except the train station and I didn’t want to get lost in the dark. I couldn’t call you and didn’t know where you worked to call your office, so it seemed like the best option.”
He nods, conceding the point, but I don’t miss the way his hand tightens around the glass of wine he takes a healthy slug from.
“So, you caught the train and got mugged before you made it back to your old place?” he prompts.
“No, I didn’t even make it on to the train. Someone grabbed me just as I got to the station and yanked me behind one of those freestanding billboards. I don’t know why that stuck in my head, but for some reason, I was even more pissed about the prospect of being mugged behind a sign advertising hemorrhoid cream.”
He doesn’t smile, so I quickly carry on.
“Some skinny guy in black jeans and a black hoodie, with this hood pulled down low over his face, yanked my bag. It was one of those over the body ones so that move wasn’t as effective as he had hoped it would be. That just pissed him off. We struggled. He punched me, though I managed to turn and deflect the full brunt of it before he caught me in the lip with his elbow.”
Asher grunts, his grip tightening on my calves at my words. Seeing how pissed he is about me getting hurt, just endears him to me even more.
“He um…cut the strap in the end, and as soon as he had the bag, he ran,” I finish quietly, his body going rock solid.
“He cut the strap?” Asher repeats, his voice taking on a sharp tone. “He had a fucking knife?”
He jumps from the stool and starts pacing, his hands gripping his hair in agitation.
“Asher, I’m okay. I was admittedly freaked out when it happened, but you’ve done nothing but make me feel safe the second I stepped through those glass doors downstairs.”
He stalks back over to me, crowding me against the counter as he bends so that his eyes are level with mine.
“Somebody put their fucking hands on you, Skittle. They threatened you with a goddamn fucking knife and made you bleed, and I was in my office, twiddling my thumbs. I could have lost you before I even had—”
I press my lips against his, closing the last of the distance between us and cutting off his words. My lip stings a little, but I ignore it, reveling in the taste of him.
I had planned to take this thing between us slowly but seeing him so worried about me does strange things to my insides. It's been a long time since someone showed me such concern. He resists for a moment before giving in with a groan, wrapping a hand in my hair