Chapter 57

Once Asher and I had stepped into the small, dark closet, one of the girls locked it behind us. She giggled, “Enjoy your seven minutes. Starting now!”

The hotel room closet was cramped. Only a handful of inches separated Asher and me. Plus, Asher had to lean forward not to hit his head on the shelf, bringing him even further into my limited space.

To keep from falling forward, Asher braced himself against the wall behind me with his arm over my shoulder.

I was boxed in, surrounded by him in all the best ways.

I couldn’t believe my luck when that bottle had pointed at me. My heartbeat had sped out of control since then and showed no signs of slowing.

I might have a heart attack in this closet. I might be okay going out like this.

In the dark, I couldn’t make out much of Asher’s face but I could feel the warmth of his body radiating from mere inches away.

“I don’t hear any noises!” one of the girls called through the door. “Don’t be so boring!”

“If I had Asher in there, I’d be naked by now,” another girl said.

“Maybe he doesn’t want her,” said a third.

“Ridiculous,” Asher grumbled.

Suddenly I was grateful for the darkness, so he wouldn’t see my embarrassed flush.

“I’m sorry about this,” I said. “This must be unpleasant for you.”

“For me?” he grumbled. “What about for you?”

I kept quiet. How could I tell him that I wouldn’t mind having him this close all the time?

“What would you have done if that bottle stopped on someone else?” I asked. I was a masochist. I knew the answer would only hurt me. But standing here in the dark with him refusing to touch me hurt me too.

“There was never any chance of that,” Asher said, all determined confidence.

Had Asher… controlled the spin of the bottle? Was that even possible?

But then, the girls had said that Asher used to be big on the party scene, and that he had dated a lot. Maybe he had a ton of practice.

The thought filled me with gratitude. If he didn’t have that skill, Asher would likely be in here with someone else right now.

But in the next instant, red hot jealous burned away all other good feelings. It was unreasonable to hate the girls of Asher’s past, but I also hated the ones in his future.

They had and would get to have him in ways that I never would, except in my dreams.

Or, maybe…

Wasn’t the point of this game to let your inhibitions go? To do things in this closet for seven minutes that you would do out of it?

Emboldened, I placed my hand on Asher’s chest. Under my palm, his heartbeat fluttered nearly as fast as my own.

“Five minutes!” called one of the girls.

Two minutes wasted already.

“Asher,” I whispered.

Suddenly, he stepped closer, pushing me against the wall of the closet. His hands dropped to my waist, as he braced himself with his shoulder instead. His mouth breathed hot air on my ear.

“Asher.” I wrapped my arms around his neck.

“They want to hear noises,” he said. “Maybe we should make some.”

Did he mean…?

Was he going to touch me for real?

But then he opened his mouth and elicited a vulgar kind of grunt that shot straight to my core. In the next breath, he moaned, satisfied.

Oh. He meant faking it.

Still, with those noises and his closeness, I wasn’t entirely sure any sound I made would be fake.

Asher nosed at the juncture of my jaw and neck. “Let them hear you, Cynthia.”

It wasn’t difficult to open my mouth and beg, “Please.”

Asher stilled.

“Hey, get over here!” one of the girls said. “It’s getting good.”

I bit back another sound, embarrassed.

“Maybe you need help,” Asher said.

One of his hands slid from my hip upwards, slowly tracing a trail along the side of my torso, tapping over my ribs. He settled his palm flat just under my arm, with his thumb pressed against the swell of my breast.

I had been ready for bed. I wasn’t wearing a bra. Only the thin cotton of my shirt separated his wandering hand from my softness.

His thumb explored further, rubbing tiny circles against the side of my breast. My nipples peaked, begging for his attention, but he avoided touching there.

Shifting his hand, he instead dragged his thumb along the underside until my breast sat snug on the L between his thumb and first finger.

His teasing fingers moved upward slowly, torturously, centimeter by careful centimeter until he was fully cupping me through my shirt. Yet still, he avoided my nipple.

His hand was so big and firm. I wanted more, even as my nerves sparked with pleasure.

“Mm. Oh, Asher.”

“Holy shit,” said one of the girls outside the door.

“One minute,” said another.

“Aah, Ash—”

Suddenly Asher’s free hand covered my mouth.

“They don’t get to hear you like this,” Asher growled in my ear. His fingers curled, grasping possessively at my chest. “Your moans belong to me.”

Immediately, a whine wrenched from my throat, muffled by his palm.

My mind was blank with pleasure. I wanted him to touch me more – everywhere.

I cried his name, mumbled nonsense.

“I’ve got you,” he said, clutching harder, massaging, when finally his palm brushed over my sensitive, begging nipple.

Gasping, I pressed myself more fully into his waiting hand.

Suddenly I was blinded, and Asher, both his touch and body, disappeared.

I opened my eyes, adjusting to the new light.

The closet door was open. Our seven minutes had ended.

I couldn’t look at Asher, though he stayed by my side the rest of the night. Since we’d gone first in the game, we got to sit out for the rest of it, watching from the corner of the room.

Asher did not touch me again, not even as the party winded down and everyone left.

“Goodnight, Cynthia,” he said, the last one at the door.

“Goodnight, Asher.”

When he’d gone, I fell onto my bed and cupped my breast as he had done in the closet. But my hand was too small and too soft.

Without him, I wasn’t satisfied.

I woke up to insistent knocking on the door.

“Cynthia!” Coach called from outside.

I checked the clock on the nightstand. It was well past seven am. I had overslept!

Jumping from the bed, I ran to the door. “I’m so sorry, Coach. I’ll be ready in a minute.”

“Make it thirty seconds, Cynthia,” Coach said, frowning. “I’ll be waiting on the bus.”

I felt like the world’s biggest jerk. After all the considerations Coach had been making for me, I repaid him by oversleeping!

Hurriedly, I threw clothes on and stuffed my dirty laundry into my bag. I grabbed my toothbrush off the sink, brushing on my way out the door.

The rest of the team had already boarded the waiting school bus. I dragged my suitcase up the step and plopped down into the first empty seat I could find.

Coach glowered at me.

“Coach!” called Elena from the back of the bus. “You didn’t answer my question.”

I glanced back at her, to find her glaring at me.

“Shouldn’t Cynthia be in trouble for making us late?”