Page 22 of Obsession on Repeat (Vinyl Hearts #1)

ONE WEEK LATER

The bass thumped through Euphoria, pulsing in my veins as I guided the track toward its peak. With a quick twist of a knob, I sent the current song spiraling into a cascading finish, ready to blend into the next. My heart raced with the rhythm, adrenaline and joy tangled together.

I spotted Asher near the bar where he usually watched my set.

He never missed a performance if he could help it.

I flicked my gaze back to my equipment, queuing up the next beat, but something in the corner of my eye made me pause.

I risked another look. A woman leaned in toward him, her blonde hair catching the light as she laughed at something he said.

She rested a hand on his forearm, the act casual, almost familiar.

I didn’t recognize her, but the way she leaned into him told me everything I needed to know.

I tore my eyes back to the turntables, forcing my hands to keep moving. The next track’s intro was already humming in my headphones. I took a steadying breath, trying to shove aside the image of her hand on his arm. It shouldn’t matter. He was with me now.

My gaze darted up again. The woman stood hip-to-hip with Asher, her body angled into his.

She wore a stylish off-the-shoulder top, long legs poured into tight jeans, confidence radiating from every pore.

Next to her, his tall frame was relaxed, one hand casually in his pocket, the other holding his drink.

He gave her a polite smile at something she said, reserved, but engaged.

They were close enough that she had to lean up to speak into his ear over the music.

As she did, her lips almost grazed his skin.

He tilted his head down toward her, saying something back.

The intimacy of the gesture sent a pulse of hurt through me, swift and unexpected.

Jealousy speared through me so sharp I nearly missed a cue. I tore my eyes away, heart hammering. The sensory overload crashed into me alongside the jealousy, making my vision blur for an instant.

I tried to refocus on the track that was ending. With a shaking hand, I slid the crossfader to bring in the next song. I could feel the kick drum in my ribs, a physical reminder to keep the show going. So I forced a grin, raising my arm to hype the crowd as the new song took over.

A cheer rippled through the dancers.

I dared another glance toward the bar. She laughed again, tossing her head back, and I saw Asher’s face light with a small grin.

Whoever she was, she wasn’t some random girl from the floor.

I tried to tell myself he was being friendly, that maybe she’d shown up uninvited and he was too polite to brush her off.

They’re probably exchanging pleasantries. Old friends.

Each time my gaze found them again, a new fissure cracked through my composure. One moment, he nodded at something she was saying, his lips curving into that gentle half-smile I knew so well. The next, she was leaning closer, whispering directly against his ear. He didn’t exactly step back.

I forced my eyes shut for a beat, drawing in a breath that tasted of copper and nerves.

When I opened them, I stole one last look at him.

I watched as she stood on tiptoe and said something close to his ear.

His eyes flicked upward, and his gaze met mine.

I saw his brow crease, an uncertainty in his expression.

He stepped back from her, opening a small space between them as if suddenly aware of how it might look.

I bit down hard on my lower lip, fighting the swirl of emotions threatening to overtake me.

I threw a bright smile toward the crowd and raised an arm in feigned triumph as the next chorus hit.

They hollered back, feeding off my energy.

Only I knew it was fake. I chanced a final glance toward the bar.

Asher was still there, a few feet away from her now, his attention torn between her and the stage.

Even across the distance, I could see the concern etched in his face as he watched me. I tore my gaze away, focusing on the kaleidoscope of dancing bodies instead.

The music had barely faded when Gina appeared with a water bottle and a proud grin. I took it with a nod and the tightest smile I could manage.

As soon as I stepped down from the booth, I saw the woman again. She was still standing there, her drink held loosely in one hand. Her body was angled toward Asher, who stood stiffly beside her, arms crossed, jaw tight. When he spotted me, a look of relief crossed his face, but she moved first.

She stepped toward me, hand outstretched, smile polished to perfection. "You must be Rory." The words were wrapped in honey with a hint of something sharper beneath. "I’ve heard a lot about you."

"Can’t say the same." I shook her hand with a firm grip.

"I’m Elle Holloway. Asher and I go way back."

"That explains the lingering."

Her eyes lit with amusement, and maybe a touch of something more. "Old habits."

"I’m sure." I gave her a thin smile.

Asher stepped closer to me, his hand gently brushing the small of my back. "Elle was just leaving."

Her gaze flicked between us, her expression unreadable before slipping back into something more composed. "Actually, I was telling Ash how happy I am for you both."

The way she shortened his name made me grind my teeth. I tilted my head. "You always congratulate people by touching their arm for twenty minutes?"

Her smile twitched, faltered slightly before she forced it back into place.

"Touché." Elle turned to Asher. She kissed his cheek and walked off with the kind of sway you only learn from breaking hearts.

I didn’t say anything until we were out of sight, tucked in the far corner of backstage, behind crates and curtain lines. The second I knew we were alone, I spun to face him. "Who is she?"

"She’s an actress."

I snorted. "Of course she is. Who exactly was she to you?"

"We filmed a movie together once, and we dated for a while."

"How long is a while?"

He sighed, but he humored me by remaining there, answering my questions without avoidance. "About five years. We broke up right around the time Euphoria opened. Her career started to take off, and we wanted different things."

I wanted to continue questioning him, but I was burning deep down with a feeling I suddenly couldn’t rationalize, something I hadn’t felt in a long time about another person. "She touched you like she had some kind of a claim to you."

"She doesn’t."

"I know that." I stepped closer to him, all the way into his space. "But watching her pretend that you were still hers? That lit something in me I didn’t realize I could feel."

He stared down at me, not moving.

"I’m not jealous because I think you want her. I’m jealous because I know she wants you, and I’m not in the mood to play polite when someone makes it that obvious."

His hand came up, fingertips brushing my waist. "You think I didn’t notice?"

"I realized watching you with her tonight that I’m territorial."

His mouth parted slightly. "Yeah?"

I stepped closer, almost flush against him now. "Yeah, so the next time someone starts circling, you need to tell them."

"Tell them what?"

"That you’re taken," I said, dragging my nails lightly along the hem of his shirt. "And if that’s too subtle, maybe mention I bite. "

He laughed, low and rough, and kissed me hard. His hands gripped my waist, firm and unforgiving, and I gasped as he spun me, pressing me up against the wall behind the crates.

"You don’t get to say things like that," he growled against my mouth, lips brushing mine with maddening control.

"Like what?" I whispered, pulling at the hem of his shirt, fingers sliding beneath to trace along the warm skin of his back.

"That you bite," he muttered, voice tight, body tighter. "That I’m taken. You don’t get to say that and then behave as though we’re not going to do something about it."

"Oh, we’re doing something."

Asher lifted me in one swift movement, my legs wrapping around his waist without a thought.

His mouth crashed to mine, and this time it wasn’t careful or measured.

It was devouring. His hands slid under my thighs, and I gasped into the kiss as his hips ground into mine through the thin fabric between us.

The friction hit just right, and I moaned before I could stop myself.

He pulled back to breathe, forehead resting against mine. "I don’t care who else wants me. I’m yours."

I cupped his jaw, eyes locked on his. "Then show me."

His hands were suddenly everywhere, desperate as he struggled to get as close as he could to me.

Mine weren’t much better, sliding beneath his shirt, dragging it up, feeling every inch of skin.

He hissed when my nails grazed his ribs, and I kissed him again.

His mouth moved down my neck, and my head hit the wall behind me with a soft thud.

The beat of the club throbbed outside. I didn’t care.

In this corner of shadows, we were the only thing that existed.

I rocked against him, my breath stuttering as his hand slipped between us, bold and sure.

"Say it again," he whispered, voice wrecked.

"What?"

"That I’m yours."

"You’re mine." I dragged my fingers through his hair, tugging hard enough to make him curse under his breath. "You’ve always been mine."

He groaned against my neck. His hand gripped my thigh, lifting me to grind us together again, the friction setting my nerves on fire.

"Well, shit."

We froze.

"I’m gone. I saw nothing. You two carry on." Gina’s voice was a mix of horror, sarcasm, and barely concealed glee as she spun on her heel and disappeared back around the corner.

I dropped my forehead against his chest with a groan, heat rushing to my cheeks. I peeked up at him. His eyes were closed, jaw tight, breathing shallow. "We should… probably not finish this in a hallway. "

His eyes opened slowly, gaze locking with mine. "You're implying that it's a bad thing."

"We’d get banned from the building."

"It’d be worth it."

We didn’t move right away, the bass of the club thumping a few yards away, and a quiet, intimate burn lingering in the space between us.

Finally, I eased away. "Later."

"Count on it."

I stirred beneath the sheet, limbs tangled with his, my head tucked under his chin. For the first time in years, I wasn’t rushing anywhere. Asher’s hand traced lazy circles across my bare back, slow and distracted. I could feel his heartbeat against my cheek, calm and steady.

"You’re awake."

"Didn’t want to move." His voice was rough, sleep-worn.

I tilted my head to look up at him, and he was already watching me with that look, one that saw too much, yet somehow made me feel safe instead of exposed. I sat up, the sheet pooling at my waist as I stretched. "I should check my phone."

He reached over and handed it to me. "Whatever it is, it can wait."

I unlocked the screen, scrolling lazily. I stopped the second I spotted a now familiar name.

Spotted: Asher Lark cozying up to ex Elle Holloway at Euphoria.

Underneath it was a photo of her laughing with her hand on his chest. He was smiling back.

"What is it?"

I turned the phone around. "This."

He took it, eyes narrowing. "Unbelievable."

"Of course she’d leak this," I said, grabbing the phone back. "She knew exactly what she was doing last night."

"She’s trying to start shit, you know that."

"So does the rest of the internet now." I climbed out of bed, pulling on my shirt as my phone buzzed again.

DJ Fetish: Homewrecker or Rebound?

I swore under my breath.

Asher followed me into the kitchen. "Hey. Look at me."

I stopped, turning to face him.

"She can post whatever the hell she wants. It doesn’t change where I woke up this morning."

I stared at him, fingers twitching at my sides. "You don’t care that they’re calling me a rebound?"

He gave a sharp laugh. "That’s the last thing you are, Rory. There hasn’t been anyone for me in a long time." His fingers brushed my jaw, thumb stroking the space beneath my lip. "You’re it, Rory."

His words hit deeper than anything Elle or the internet could throw at me.

Smiling, I leaned into him. The kiss we shared was slow at first, he wanted to memorize me, and I let him. His hand slid to the back of my neck, drawing me closer until there was no space left between us.