“I’m good if you’re good.”

“Then we’re all good,” she confirmed. “Now roll off me, big guy. I need to pee.”

I blinked, did it again, and rolled off her while busting a gut laughing.

Sloane slid out of bed and shimmied the hem of her dress down her leg but not before I got a good look at her bare ass cheeks.

Oh, yeah, my good intentions were being stretched to the breaking point.

Time to get a move on it and get out of her apartment.

12

One look in the mirror and I wanted to die of embarrassment. Puffy raccoon eyes and night-before makeup were not a good look. At least my hair wasn’t a rat’s nest, but the smeared mascara and eyeliner around my eyes…that thought morphed into another…a black eye.

Shit.

I forgot about my face, quickly did my business, washed my hands, and flung open the bathroom door. Asher was sitting on the side of the bed, head bent down to his phone, but it came up fast and I saw it—what I’d seen while we were talking. But I’d been so distracted by his big body on top of mine that all of my concentration was going to forming words, so it had escaped me that I’d caused the purple bruising under his eye. Not to mention the tiny cut on the side of his lip.

“Oh my God.”

Asher sprung to his feet and in two strides he was in front of me.

“What’s wrong?”

I didn’t answer him. Instead, I rambled and fought back the tears that were threatening.

“I did that. I’m so sorry! I can’t believe I did that to you.”

“Did what? I thought we settled—”

“I hit you! You have a black eye.”

I watched in horror as Asher’s mouth tipped up into a smile.

“I’m sure I don’t have a black eye.”

“You do. I gave you a black eye!” I continued to screech.

“Baby, calm down. I’m fine. You got one good hit in, which I have to tell you I’m happy you started with the face and not a knee to the nuts.”

“Calm down? I punched you in the face.”

“You did,” he confirmed. “You also thought I was here to hurt you. This after you thought I was ordering up a virgin to deflower. God knows what else was going on in your head at the time. So as pleased as I am I didn’t find my balls in my stomach, you ever find yourself in a situation where you feel unsafe, instead of throwing a right hook, you always start with the balls. I don’t care if you can’t get a knee to them, you grab, squeeze, and twist those fuckers until you feel them pop.”

I felt my face screw up in revulsion at his disgusting instructions.

“I’m not grabbing a man’s balls and squeezing them until they pop.”

“Grab, squeeze, and twist,” he corrected. “Promise me, Sloane, you find yourself in a situation that makes you uncomfortable you start there, then you hit with your right hook.”