Chapter 7 Desiree Dixon

Lose Control

I spot my mom as I sit alone, waiting for Asher to return. She’s searching through the crowded tables for something, and when I see her, I start to wave.

She rushes over toward me. “Your dad and I need to leave.” She rolls her eyes. “He ate the scallop. He wasn’t even paying attention, just talking away and eating, and now he’s been in the bathroom for the last twenty minutes.”

My heart sinks. “Oh, okay.” Asher told me not to move, but honestly, what am I doing? I don’t even know this guy. He’s a player on my dad’s team with the reputation of a player.

It’s an insane attraction, that’s all. That’s all it can be. My dad would never be okay with me dating a player on his new team when he’s trying to build his own reputation, and furthermore, not one who was suspended for an entire season for gambling on games.

If that doesn’t scream bad boy who will never touch my daughter , I don’t know what would.

But I don’t want to leave. It’s not like I can do anything for my dad tonight, anyway. He’ll be fine in a day or two, and I want to see where this can go tonight. I want to have some Vegas-style fun with someone who has no idea who I am.

But if they’re leaving, I should go too. I push my chair back to stand, and that’s when she sets her hand on my shoulder.

“You can stay if you want. I bid on a couple of auction items, so if I win, can you grab them?”

“Oh, sure. Of course.” I nod. “I’d love to.” I try not to sound too eager. Back it off, Desi . “Take good care of Dad, okay? I’m not sure how late I’ll be.”

She sighs. “Okay. Be safe. I’ll text you the front door code so you can let yourself in.”

“Great,” I say. I stand and give her a quick hug, and then she bolts to take care of my dad.

As bad as I feel for my dad, he’ll live. And now I’m truly here alone. I won’t have my parents over my shoulder watching my every move. I can dance the night away without anyone knowing I’m the new OC’s daughter—unless, of course, they pointed me out to everyone at their table, which is a possibility.

And so when Asher returns to the table with a gleam in his eye and another dirty martini—extra dirty, just like I like it—I feel like something shifts. No longer do I feel the need to censor myself, not that I was before. But there’s something about having your parents in the same room as you while you’re attempting to make a connection with someone that sort of…pops the balloon, I guess.

Well, the balloon is fully inflated, or whatever metaphor we’re using, and so is that throbbing between my legs.

He raises both brows quickly at me when he catches me looking at him.

I narrow my eyes at him. “You look like you’re up to something.”

He twists his lips. “How can someone have just met me and already seem to know me so well?”

“I’d say something cheesy about it being fate, but honestly, your face is giving it all away. What did you do?”

He laughs. “Stick with me long enough, and all will be revealed.”

I pick up my drink, and before I tip it to my lips, I ask, “Why does that feel like a dare?”

He lifts a shoulder. “Maybe because it is.”

I laugh, and I hold up my glass. “To whatever happens after we dance.”

He holds his up, too, and clinks it to mine. His eyes are full of that same mischief. “To having breakfast together tomorrow morning.”

His voice is low, flirty, and deep, and I need a sip of my drink to cool the heat between us.

But as we all know, alcohol doesn’t exactly cool much of anything. Instead, all it does is add fuel to the flames.

“Come with me,” he says, and he pushes to a stand and grabs my hand.

“Where are we going?”

“I bid on a couple auction items. Let’s check if I’m still winning.”

I nod, and we head over toward the auction tables, which is perfect since it’ll give me a chance to see how my mom’s bids are doing, too.

He doesn’t let go of my hand, instead tightening it as if he’s trying to show that we’re here together regardless of whether the night started that way.

I can’t say I mind that one little bit.

I spot Sue Dixon on a spa treatment package, and she bid way over the value price. She could easily go get the spa treatment, but she’s trying to pump up the bids since the money goes to a good cause. It’s sweet, really.

Asher stops in front of a basket filled with Arizona lottery scratcher tickets and checks the bids. He’s still in the lead, and I glance over at him.

“Lottery tickets?” I ask.

“There’s no lotto system in Nevada, and my dad will go ape shit over these scratcher things. Usually we either have to drive forty-five minutes to California or over an hour to Arizona to get some.”

“That’s sweet that you’re getting them for your dad,” I say. “I’d love to scratch some with you. Maybe together we’ll get lucky.” I raise a brow.

He blows out a breath as his eyes study me, and then he leans in toward me. “Either way, I think I hit the jackpot tonight.” His breath is hot against my ear, and thrills race up my spine at his proximity.

Holy hell.

He smells good—clean and fresh with a hint of manly cedar underneath and something else. Cinnamon, maybe.

He looks good.

He seems invested.

I wasn’t expecting all this tonight, yet here we are.

“Damn, some of these are getting high bids,” he muses, and he seems like he wants to say something more, but then he hesitates.

I wonder what he was thinking and where he might have been going with those thoughts, but we continue walking and checking the other auction items.

He adds a bid on that weekend at the Red Rock, outbidding my new friend Ellie. When he turns away, though, he doesn’t crash into anyone carrying a tray, and instead, he leads me toward the dance floor, his hand still clutching mine.

Some Calvin Harris remix is playing, and we start to move with each other. It’s just about over, and the beat eases into the familiar keyboard stabs of “Lose Control” by Teddy Swims.

Asher moves in a little closer to me, reaching one arm around my waist to haul me into him, and I grip onto his upper arms as we start to sway to the song.

I listen to the words and feel like I can relate. I’m losing control more and more every second I’m in this man’s presence.

He sings about needing release, and I feel Asher’s arm tighten around me as his other hand comes up to palm my face. I lean into his touch and close my eyes as I really feel myself starting to slip.

I don’t know a damn thing about him other than his name, that he hates mushrooms, and that his dad likes lotto tickets.

I don’t know where he lives. I don’t know who his friends are, or if he drinks coffee in the mornings, or even if he’s single.

But as I open my eyes, one thing is made very clear.

He wants to fuck me, and that feeling is most definitely mutual.