Page 17 of Nothing to Fear (Wicked Games #1)

Silas

T he next day comes the same as always, but this time, with a heavy dose of guilt.

Asher’s voice replays through my mind. He’s right.

I’ve lived a privileged life and haven’t wanted for anything, including my admission to Corvus.

I was born into a wealthy family, grew up in a massive home with maids and a chef.

My first car was a brand-new Mercedes, for fuck’s sake.

Based on what Asher said, he grew up completely differently, which makes me realize how little I actually know about him.

A fact I desperately want to change.

My heart splinters as I lie in bed, staring up at the blank white ceiling.

Thoughts of how different Asher and I are plague my mind.

I’m not sheltered enough to believe that everyone is as privileged as I am, but Corvus is a private, elite college, and I, clearly wrongfully, assumed everyone who attended here had a similar upbringing to me.

Motivation is definitely different when you don’t have anything or anyone to fall back on.

I should have put it together when he shared with me that he was raised by a single mom, but my brain just didn’t compute; too busy hanging onto every crumb he was giving me. Until I couldn’t take the heat like a fucking idiot.

Prepared to make amends and apologize, I do something I’ve never done before, skip practice, and sneak into the archives and hope like hell he studies down here every day like I think he does.

It’s not our typical day for tutoring, but I’m almost positive this place is so important to him that he spends a lot of time in here with his head buried in books.

As I sit here waiting for him, I don’t feel an ounce of regret over skipping practice. Rugby has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. I love being on the field, but lately, it seems like a chore, like something I have to do rather than something I love.

After thirty minutes, I’m bored out of my mind.

Standing to stretch my legs, I walk over to the first bookshelf next to where Asher and I’s table sits against a wall.

My fingers drag delicately over the spines of different books, imagining the stories that are bound beneath the covers and what secrets they hold.

I pull out a random book, looking at the thick, worn leather cover, brushing the pad of my forefinger over the etched gold printing of the title.

“Crimson Veil Society.” I’ve heard that the founders of Corvus were in a cult or secret society, but have never bothered to look into it.

This is probably one of those books Asher has read through a hundred times.

As I go to carefully replace the book in its spot, I notice carvings on the wall behind the bookshelf.

Flicking on my phone’s flashlight, I barely make out the words, typing them into my phone.

I read them out loud, butchering the pronunciation while hitting search.

“ The truth lies hidden .” I pull more books off the shelf, setting them in neat piles so I can remember exactly where to replace them.

I search the wall behind them, looking for anything else that could be there, and come up short.

I quickly put them back, not wanting Asher to walk in and see me disrespecting his books, especially ones as old as these.

I repeat the quote over and over again, both in Latin and English, its meaning seeping into my soul and resonating deeply with me.

Another hour goes by painfully slowly. With nothing but the chilly archives around me, my thoughts are louder than ever.

By seven-thirty, I know Asher isn’t coming, and disappointment flows through me in a heavy dose.

By quarter to eight, that disappointment gives way to anger.

I know I’ve fucked up, but we’ve had moments where I let my guard down, and I know he saw it.

Felt it. This is why I don’t do vulnerable.

If I protect myself by striking first, nothing can hurt me.

Done waiting and not willing to go another minute without explaining myself to Asher, I react on impulse, storming through the archives and up the narrow steps. I don’t stop until I’m standing outside of Asher’s apartment door in Crimson Keep.

My fists drop harder than they should, my anger getting the best of me. I shift from foot to foot, waiting impatiently. Just as I lift my fist to knock again, the door whips open, leaving me standing in front of Asher’s best friend and roommate, Parker.

“The fuck are you doing here?” he says, irritation coming off him in waves. I don’t like you either, bub, so let’s just move on.

“Hi, Parker. Glad to see you, too,” I say with mock delight. “Where’s Asher? He missed our meeting and hasn’t answered his phone.”

“Pretty sure he was up all night studying after being forced to spend his extra time trying to find your remaining two brain cells.”

I grind my molars together, forcing down the desire to yell at him.

For a moment, I forgot that Asher was being forced to tutor me.

It’s felt like so much more than that lately.

It’s felt like we were two friends, and that he was choosing to spend time with me.

My anger doesn’t tamp down; instead, it rises.

“Whatever. Where is he?”

“He’s down the hall, last room on the left. I’m late for a meeting, so get out of my way.”

I mock gasp at Parker, covering my mouth with my hand. “You? Late? Someone call the police!”

“Do you know how to not be an asshole, or is that just your default setting?”

“Fuck off, prick.”

“You first, dickhead.”

Parker slips past me, and I walk into the apartment with an eye roll. It’s cleaner than I would expect for an apartment lived in by two college students, but I guess Asher and Parker aren’t exactly normal. My dormmates live like they’ve never heard of an actual trash can before.

I walk down the hallway, running my hands through my hair as frustration and nerves course through my veins. I need to apologize to him for always running and for pushing him away. But goddamn if that doesn’t make me feel nauseous.

I don’t bother knocking once I reach his door, the cold metal cool on my palm as I turn the knob, pushing it open slightly, and taking a single step inside.

The vision in front of me can’t be real.

Because holy fucking shit. My mouth falls open at the sight.

My knees nearly give out, my heart thumping in overdrive behind my ribs.

All the frustration and anger I was feeling?

Gone. My brain goes completely blank. My body is blocked by the wall of his closet, but I get a full, unobstructed view.

Asher’s completely naked. And not just “I’m changing” naked, I’m talking purposefully naked.

Lying in the center of his bed with his legs spread, cock in his hand, he looks like a fucking Greek god.

An Adonis. His hips thrust upward as he pumps into his fist from below.

His cock is long and thick, and I can’t fucking look away.

My feet are frozen to the ground, my jaw slightly slack as I watch with rapt attention as he jerks his big cock.

Asher’s abs flex, the muscles in his thighs straining.

His chest is bare of any hair, nothing but strong lines and smooth skin.

His biceps are more muscular than I imagined for someone whose athleticism includes walking around campus with his face in a book.

He’s the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.

And I hate him for it. Add it to the growing list. A small whimper releases from my lips, loud enough to let my presence be known.

“Fuck! Silas! What the fuck, man? Get out!” Asher’s panicked yell, his quick movements to cover himself up with a pillow, pull me from my trance.

“Do you always jerk it with your roommate at home?” I snap.

“My roommate knocks! You lack smarts and boundaries, apparently. Now get the hell out!”

“I don’t think I will.”

“Wh-what?” Asher’s eyes go wild with confusion, his breath still coming in pants. There’s a flash of something behind his eyes that looks a helluva lot like heated intrigue, but he masks it quickly.

“Get dressed, tutor. You owe me a session.”

“Screw that, Silas. I’ve got my own stuff to get done. Get. Out. ”

“No.” I lean down and pick up a pair of grey sweatpants off the floor and throw them at his chest. “We’re studying.”

“It’s not even a tutoring day. Get out!”

“I’m not leaving, so we can either study with nothing but a pillow shielding your hard dick, or you can get dressed. Either way, this is happening.”

He eyes me for a moment, probably trying to gauge if I’m serious or not. The last thing I’d do is actually force him to tutor me naked.

Probably.

Maybe.

Despite my behavior toward him the last three years, and trust me, I’m well aware that my reasoning behind it isn’t valid, I’m not willing to let him walk away from this. From me. The thought of not spending time with Asher makes me feel physically ill.

Plus, now that I’ve seen him naked and how hard his cock gets when he’s turned on, I really don’t want to leave. Which is a whole lot of trouble.

“Jesus Christ. Fine. Turn around.”

When I don’t move right away, Asher arches a curious brow, daring me. I can’t explain why I hesitate. Stupidity. Excitement. Curiosity. The fact that my cock has been rock hard since I opened his door and found him spread wide like a fucking meal on his bedsheets.

Asher says something under his breath, and I can’t hear as he starts to stand.

I see a quick flash of his hard cock again, thick and veiny, as I finally turn my back, giving him a moment of privacy to cover up.

Now that I’ve seen him, it’s forever burned in my brain.

An image I’ll replay. Over and over and over again.

Fucking Asher Ambrose.

“I’m good. How the hell did you get in here, anyway? ”

“Parker let me in.”

“Liar. Parker would stab you before he let you in here.”

“He seemed flustered, said he was running late for a meeting.”