18
Sienna
Asher's head descends toward me. I turn away at the last moment. His lips brush my cheek instead.
"You smell good," he brings his nose to the hollow of my neck, sniffs. Adds in a thoughtful voice, "Earthy, almost chocolaty, and yet there's something … a spicy undertone."
He brushes his nose against my skin.
"Don't." My voice comes out breathless.
He stares into my eyes, his violet irises so vivid they feel electric.
I push against his shoulder trying to put some distance between us when there's a knock on the door.
Asher lets go, leans back.
My breath catches in my throat and my heart slams against my ribs as I stare at Asher, my eyes wide with shock.
I know who it is.
But Asher is already sliding over me. His feet hit the floor with a thud. His face is smooth. Calm.
