“Look,” he breathed, scanning my face, the minty remnants of his Tic Tacs wafting in the air. “You tell that Jay guy to fuck off. You won’t be his play toy. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

“W-what if I want him to be?”

Asher’s nose bumped mine, and the accelerated slam of his heart pounded right into my chest.

“No. You tell him—” Asher wet his lips, and my adrenaline kicked into high gear.

Oh fuck. Was he gonna practice the kissing part now? Shit. I wasn’t ready. This was weird.

“T-tell him what?” I croaked, fighting to calm the incessant shaking radiating through my whole body.

“Tell him … if he wants this amazing ass.” Asher paused. Flushed. His Adam’s apple bobbed. Then he slid a hand lower and grabbed my ass through my underwear. It was a firm grip, almost as painful as the look on his face. “If h-he wants this amazing ass,” he continued, his voice trembling. “He’ll need to fight me for it.”

This was all kinds of bad porn worthy. In fact, I was pretty sure I’d seen this episode and knew how it ended. My eyes widened.

“What are you saying, Ash—nder?”

Asher’s brow dipped in confusion at my slip-up. We stilled, and neither of us proceeded for a full thirty seconds, but he shook it off and kept going. “I’m saying. You’re mine. Elliot,” he added as an afterthought.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“What are you gonna do about it?”

“Um.”

We both stilled again, and Asher lost a shade of color.

“You should probably prove all that machoness with a claiming kiss or something.”

“P-probably.”

He didn’t move. I couldn’t because his grip on me turned vice-like, and my lungs were no longer able to work at full capacity.

He blew out a breath. “Claiming kiss incoming,” he warned.

Asher’s rapid breathing matched my own. He came an inch closer, lips slightly puckered, and then he stopped, closed his eyes, and licked them before puckering again. He was probably envisioning some girl in his head. Bastard. I didn’t want to be a girl.

When I was sure he wasn’t going to take the initiative and close the gap, I jumped in with both feet and eliminated the distance.

It was all kinds of tense and tight and awkward. His lips were unyielding. Mine were no better. This wasn’t working.

My head screamed Ender, Ender, Ender, as I forced myself to take control, angling my head and drawing his lower lip into my mouth.

He grunted and didn’t respond at first. When my tongue tickled his upper lip, the hand on my ass tightened. Three beats after that, he opened. A tiny little bit. Tentatively at first, his tongue poked mine, prodded. It was unsure and hesitant. Ten kinds of awkward.

Plus two.

Ender, Ender, Ender.