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Amber to Ashes (Torn Hearts #1) Page 128
Author: Gail McHugh

I lose it, shaking with laughter as Brock falls apart beside me, chuckling as hard, if not harder.

“You sure do have a cute but odd way of describing shit.” Brock pets her hair. “A fiddler’s elbow? Really, Ber? Again, cute, but still odd as fuck, baby girl.”

“That’s what you two’ve been laughing at this entire time?”

“Hell yeah.” I give her towel-hidden ass a whack. She jumps with a squeal. “That, and you honestly thinking you can kick our asses. The delusional faith you have in being able to beat us down, without us letting you win, merits—at the very least—a C-plus.” I cup her cheeks, my mouth pressed to her forehead as I chuckle at her melodramatic sigh. “And if you run around telling people your punch is faster than a ‘fiddler’s elbow,’ then it’s you who’s gonna get dropped.”

She places a lingering kiss on my jaw, her tongue grazing my stubble before she slides it down my neck.

I tense, preparing myself for what, I’m unsure, but fuck if she doesn’t look like she’s about to rearrange my face, my cock next in queue on her mutilation list as she pulls back, gazing deep into my eyes. I try to play it off, acting as though the girl hasn’t burrowed herself beneath my skin. But she has, and she’s done so unlike any other before her. When Amber gets like this—pissed, playful, and dirty all at once—it’s nearly impossible not to bend her over and show her how I really feel, every attempt at playing it cool turning into one huge pile of worthless shit.

“Thanks for the mediocre grade, Mr. Ashcroft,” Amber purrs, something akin to revenge cutting through her eyes, “but this here student’s already kicked both her teachers’ asses.” This time around, Brock’s her target, her fingernails running down his chest as she works his neck like she did mine. He tenses worse than I did, the faggot’s breathing jumping past his lips as one of Amber’s many split personalities continues to keep me on heightened alert. Just to be safe, I cover my balls, my hands serving as a shield to my baby-maker as Amber licks a line up behind his earlobe. “But, sadly, they just don’t know I kicked their asses.”

“How so?” Brock asks, his question spoken through a groan as Amber sucks his lobe between her teeth. “Sorry, but I ain’t seeing any kind of ass-kicking going on in these parts of town.”

“No?” She steps back, her eyes turning sinister as her towel hits the ground, leaving her naked before us as she rests her hands on her hips. “How’s this for some unseen ass-kicking? Is the vision in focus, or do we need bifocals?”

Like two speechless idiots, Brock and I move our gaze up and down the length of her body, not a single comeback leaving our mouths as Amber lifts a triumphant brow.

“Hark. What’s that?” She spins on her heel, a giggle moving through the air as she starts for the bedroom. “Ah, that’s right. I believe I just kicked both your asses without even having to throw a punch.”

With nothing but her apple-shaped ass in my line of sight, I swallow, watching as Amber sways around the corner and into the bedroom.

Brock palms his neck, his voice grainy as he yanks his attention from the empty doorway. “Did she—”

“Just school us? Put us in our pitiful places? Show us the almighty power of pussy has spoken?” I sigh, a grin creeping across my face as I make my way into the bedroom. Amber’s already dressed in a pair of Hadley U sweatpants and sweatshirt, her smile lighting up the room as she gets cozy dead center of the California king bed.

“Now, now, boys,” she says, patting the mattress, her widened smile creating a new category for wiseassery as she slips beneath the silk sheets. “Don’t look so grim. Everyone needs a good ass-kicking every now and again.” With a stretch of her arms, she feigns a yawn. “Come on. This gal needs a little spooning right about now. Good?”

Brock dives onto the bed, entombing Amber in his embrace, the grizzly-like attack causing her to hoot out in bubbly laughter. I stroll over to the bed, unsure where I belong in this fucked Rubik’s cube of emotions the three of us have manufactured.

I scratch at the hairs lining my stomach, hesitancy softening my words as I pluck my briefs off the chaise lounge. “You two go ahead. I’m just gonna head on back to my suite.”

Amber casts me a look that crushes my heart. Steadfast, she untangles herself from Brock’s hold and sits up on her knees. “No, Ryder. You’re not leaving. You’re staying here tonight. In this bed. Next to me. That was the deal.”

“There was never a deal for what comes after, peach,” I point out, an edge of irritation cutting through my tone as I stare into soft, golden eyes. Soft, golden eyes my asshole statement’s brought what appears to be tears to. Fuck me. My heart crushes again. Still, my mouth keeps moving, my words meant to push her away, to hurt. “Deal?” I ask through a disdainful chuckle. “I think I sealed my end of the deal, no?” Hands gripping my hair, I move across the room, my head ticking back and forth as I throw on my pants and dress shirt. “Did what we all did not make you forget about your past? Unload some of that pain you’ve been carrying around?”

She jumps to her feet, fire in her whiskey irises as she follows me to the front door, stabbing her finger into my shoulder the entire time. “Turn the hell around, Ashcroft,” she demands, a hiss biting her breathless tone as my hand makes contact with the doorknob. Playing the dick this situation’s turned me into, I freeze, my need to make her sweat it out hardening my cock as I ignore her order. “Now, asshole. I’m not kidding. If you don’t turn the fuck around right now, then I’ll have no other choice but to show you the damage my punch will do to the back of that thick, idiotic, greasy skull of yours.”

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