Score me, Captain

Chapter 140

Asher’s POV

Kieran's lips are soft against mine, tentative at first, then more insistent when I don't immediately pull away. The taste of expensive wine floods my senses, mingling with the unfamiliar warmth of a mouth that isn't Blaze's.

For one horrible, frozen moment, my alcohol-fogged brain can't process what's happening—can't reconcile the intimate pressure against my lips with the wedding ring on my finger.

Then reality crashes through the haze like ice water. This isn't Blaze. This isn't my husband. This is wrong—fundamentally, catastrophically wrong.

Adrenaline burns away the wine-induced fog in seconds, shocking me back to complete sobriety.

I shove Kieran away forcefully, scrambling backward on the couch to put as much distance between us as possible. My heart pounds against my ribs, pulse roaring in my ears.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" My voice comes out sharp, edged with anger and disbelief. "Don't ever do that again. I'm married, and I love my husband."

Kieran's expression shifts—the warm concern of moments ago hardening into something defensive, his carefully constructed charm cracking around the edges.

"Really? Because for the past hour you've been complaining about how miserable your marriage makes you. How he doesn't understand you. How nothing's working out the way you planned."

"That doesn't mean…"

"You practically told me you're trapped in a relationship that's falling apart." His tone turns mocking, dismissive. "I was just offering an alternative."

The casual way he reduces my marriage, my entire relationship with Blaze, to something that can be discarded and replaced makes my blood boil.

"Venting about relationship problems doesn't mean I want to cheat on my husband. It means I'm human and sometimes I need to process my feelings. That's not an invitation."

"Come on, Asher."

Kieran leans back against the couch, watching me with an expression that's half pity, half calculation.

"You're not happy—you just admitted it. Why stay trapped in something that's clearly not working? Life's too short to waste on relationships that drain you."

"You don't know anything about my marriage. What Blaze and I have is none of your business," I say coldly, rising from the couch. "Whatever problems we're dealing with, they're ours to work through."

Something ugly flickers across Kieran's face. "Your marriage is a disaster, Asher. You walk around like you're carrying the weight of the world, and for what? A man who can't appreciate what he has?"

"This conversation is over." I grab my jacket from where I'd tossed it earlier, my hands trembling with barely controlled anger. "And so is this evening."

"You're making a mistake," Kieran calls after me as I push through the party guests toward the exit. "When things finally fall apart, and they will, don't say I didn't offer you a way out."

I don't look back. The night air hits my face like a slap, cold and clarifying. I flag down a taxi and collapse into the backseat, giving my address in a voice that sounds foreign to my own ears.

As the city lights blur past the window, my mind races through everything that just happened.

The alcohol and emotional confession had made me vulnerable, had lowered my defenses enough that I didn't see what Kieran was doing until his mouth was on mine.

He'd been so sympathetic, so understanding—and I'd been so desperate to feel heard that I'd walked right into his trap. But his kiss shocked me back to clarity about what really matters.

My problems with Blaze suddenly feel small and surmountable compared to the alternative of losing him entirely. Yes, we've been fighting. Yes, we're struggling to balance my career with our relationship.

But those are problems that can be solved if we both want to solve them. And God, I desperately want to try.

The taxi stops in front of our building, and I take the stairs two at a time, urgency propelling me forward. I need to see Blaze. Need to touch him, hold him, remind myself what we're fighting for instead of what we're fighting about.

He looks up in surprise when I burst through the door, still wearing my interview clothes, probably looking wild-eyed and desperate.

He's on the couch with a book he wasn't really reading, and the wariness in his expression tells me he was expecting another fight. "You're home early," he says carefully. "I thought the party would go later."

I don’t waste words. I cross the room in three quick strides, dropping to my knees between his legs before he can even blink.

My hands reach for his face, cupping it gently, tilting it up toward mine. His breath hitches, his lips parting in a soft gasp that sends heat pooling low in my gut.

“Ash,” he starts, but I cut him off with my mouth, sealing our lips together in a kiss so deep, so devouring, it feels like I’m trying to crawl inside him. His taste floods my senses—mint, coffee, and something uniquely Blaze.

I groan into his mouth, my tongue sliding against his, exploring, claiming, reminding him who we are to each other.

His book falls forgotten to the floor as his arms wrap around my neck, pulling me closer. "Ash," he breathes against my lips. "What's going on? What happened?"

"Nothing. I just…" I press my forehead to his, struggling to find words. "I love you. I love you so much, and I'm sorry I've been making you feel like you don't matter. You matter more than anything."

"I'm sorry too." His voice cracks. "I've been so jealous and insecure, pushing you away when all I wanted was to pull you closer."

"Then let's stop pushing. Both of us. Let's figure this out together."

I push the hoodie up, revealing his smooth, golden skin, and I can’t resist pressing my lips to his chest, nipping at his collarbone, laving my tongue over the sensitive spot just above his nipple.

He gasps, his hands tightening in my hair, and I smile against his skin as I work my way lower, trailing kisses down his abs, pausing to flick my tongue into his navel.

By the time I reach the waistband of his jeans, he’s panting, his cock straining against the fabric, begging for release. I hook my fingers into his belt loops, tugging gently, and he lifts his hips obediently, letting me slide the jeans down his thighs.

His boxers follow, and then he’s bare before me, his cock jutting up, thick and flushed, a bead of pre-cum glistening at the tip.

I wrap my hand around his shaft, stroking him slowly, savoring the way he shudders under my touch. My tongue darts out, flicking over the head, lapping up the salty-sweet essence of him.

His groan is music to my ears, a sound I’ve missed more than I realized. “Ashy… Fuck, your mouth…”

I hum in response, the vibration making him jerk in my hand, and then I take him fully into my mouth, swallowing him down until my nose brushes his pelvis.

His hips buck instinctively, and I grip his thighs, holding him in place as I bob my head, sucking him deep, my tongue swirling around his shaft. I lose myself in the rhythm, in the way his fingers tighten in my hair, in the way his moans grow louder, desperate.

“Ash, I’m—fuck, I’m close,” he warns, his voice breaking, and I pull back just enough to smirk up at him, my lips slick with spit and pre-cum.

“Good,” I purr, my hand taking over where my mouth left off, stroking him fast and tight. “Come for me, Blaze.”

His back arches, his body trembling as he spills into my hand, his release hot and thick, pulsing onto my skin. I stroke him through it, milking every last drop, until he’s panting and spent, his chest heaving.

When he finally looks at me, his eyes are soft, vulnerable, filled with something I’ve missed more than I realized. “Ash,” he whispers, reaching for me. “Come here.”

I don’t need to be told twice. I climb onto the couch, straddling him, and he pulls me into a kiss that’s tender, slow, and achingly sweet. His hands roam my body, undressing me with a reverence that makes my heart ache.

By the time we’re skin to skin, I’m trembling, my cock pressed against his thigh, leaking precum. Blaze's head rests on my chest, his fingers tracing idle patterns across my skin, and I feel something that's been wound tight inside me finally begin to loosen.

I make two silent resolutions in the peaceful darkness.

First, I'll never mention what happened with Kieran. Not because I have anything to hide—I didn't kiss him back, didn't want it, pushed him away the moment I understood what was happening.

But telling Blaze would only confirm every fear and insecurity he's been battling for months. It would poison something that's finally starting to heal.

Second, I'll find a way to replace Kieran professionally. No matter how good he is at his job, continuing to work with someone who's made a pass at me would be unfair to everyone involved. Some boundaries, once crossed, can't be uncrossed.