His eyes landed on the jersey and suddenly seemed darker than usual. “What the fuck are you wearing?” he asked silkily. There was a note of threat in that tone that thrilled me and scared me at the same time. “What does it look like?” I wet my lips, my mouth suddenly dry. “Whose fucking jersey is that and where is he right now?” Asher advanced into the room. I backed up, heat working through me. “Why? Jealous?” I asked breathlessly. The look on Asher’s face was burning into my mind like a brand.
