“Isn’t that what you call it in those romance books you women read?”
Her giggle eases some of the tension that’s been churning in my stomach since I realized I’d made a huge mistake. Andrew constantly reminds me I need to slow down and think things through before letting my inner hothead loose. It never mattered to me—until now.
“Goodnight, Ashbear.”
“Sleep well, Emma.”
eight
Emma
I must be dreaming. It’s the best freaking dream of my life. The last thing I want to do is open my eyes and have it all disappear. Asher’s hand is resting on my stomach, the weight of his arm pushing me into the bed. He’s pressed tightly against my back, and his hard dick is rubbing against my butt cheeks. If I wiggle, will it slide between my legs? I’m more turned on than I’ve ever been. I want to beg him to make love to me. It’s my dream. I can do what I want, right? Except my annoying bladder decides I need to go now, and quickly. I realize it’s not a dream at all.
Asher’s hand is resting on my stomach—probably why I need to go so badly—his heavy arm is pressing me into the bed. Heat radiates along my skin everywhere he’s touching, and nope, I didn’t imagine the hard cock rubbing against my butt, either. Good gravy. How did this even happen? I made sure I was all the way on the edge of my side. Now I’m somewhere in the middle.
This should not be happening. Remembering the events of yesterday makes me wince. I wish that yesterday was the dream. Asher is a stranger, a grumpy one at that, and definitely not my type—do I even have a type? Not that it matters. I’m here for one reason: the mountain sweet pitcher plants. But I’m not going to lie. This is like experiencing one of my fantasies. When else would I meet someone like Asher? Never.
The only thing that would make it better is if he’d turn me over, kiss me until I’m dizzy, and make love to me until I’m screaming his name. Gee, Em, you need to cut back on the romance novels.
Besides, the last thing I should be doing is lying here fantasizing about Asher. He’s not my boyfriend. He’s not my anything. I need to keep my distance. Who knows the next time he’ll go all grump-meister on me. For now, I’ll settle for slipping out from under his arm and finding a way out of this enormous bed. The last thing I need is to have an accident. How mortifying would that be? Like him helping me use the bathroom last night wasn’t bad enough.
“What’s got you thinking so loud, Raindrop?” he asks, his voice rough from sleep.
Fudgsicles. He’s awake. “Morning. I didn’t mean to wake you, but I need to use the bathroom.”
Thank goodness he can’t see my face, or he’d know exactly what I was thinking. The last thing I want to talk about is the elephant in the room, or maybe the elephant’s trunk would be a better description. I’m an educated woman. I’ve had boyfriends. Okay, one boyfriend. But I know about morning wood. What’s rubbing against me is more like a whole tree, though.
Finally, the arm moves as he turns onto his back. I want to roll over and look at him since I was almost asleep by the time he came to bed last night. Now that I’ve felt all his yummy muscles, I’d love to see them. But then he’d also see me. That bumfuzzle I dated loved to tell me how much of a mess I was in the morning. No, thank you. I’d rather avoid any further embarrassment. I’ll just slither my way out of bed and take care of business.
“What did I tell you last night?” he grumbles.
“You said lots of things. Which one are you referring to?” I don’t have to see Asher to know he’s making that grouchy face. Maybe if I annoy him enough, he’ll let me go back to my tent. I can figure out how to get around on my own. I did after all the surgeries. I can do it now.
“Spankings are still an option, Raindrop. You know damn well I told you to wake me if you needed to go.”
Rather than answer him, I push up with my hands and wince. Frack. I forgot about the cuts and scrapes on my palms. It’s okay, I can deal with it.
“Stop right there. I’m not kidding. Doc said you’re not to put any weight on that foot for at least forty-eight hours.”
“Fine. But I need to go. Now.”
I swear he’s laughing at me as the bed shakes, or it could just be him getting up. I need to fix my hair, which has fallen the rest of the way out of my ponytail and is probably a knotted mess. Oh well, I’m here to work, not win a beauty pageant.
“C’mon, Raindrop. Let’s get you to the toilet.” His warm hands wrap around my waist. He lifts me as if I weigh nothing. I should freak out that he’s touching my bare butt, but I feel safer now than I have since I was a child. And this is why I need to get away from him. My ankle hurts like a thunder nugget, but falling for Asher would be so much worse.
After he puts me on the toilet, he turns on the faucet.
“I’ll be outside. Call me when you’re done.” Then he steps out and pulls the door closed behind him.
It doesn’t take me long to finish, and I’m so tempted to clean myself up and walk over to the sink. The threat of a spanking makes me hesitate. I’m intrigued, especially after reading countless scenes in books, but do I really want to test it out? He’ll probably break my butt. Playing it safe is probably for the best right now.
Sighing, I admit there is some perverse part of me that likes him taking care of me. “Ashbear, I’m done.”
When Asher opens the door, he gives me that half-smirk-smile thing he has going on. But what kills me is when he says, “Good girl.”
Every time he uses those two words, I get wet. It’s like some weird Pavlovian response, but only with him. I wonder if I banged my head when I fell? There’s no other plausible explanation. I’m a scientist, a nerd, and proud of it. I don’t believe in all that instant love stuff. Attraction—pheromones—sure. But what Asher does to me is unlike anything I’ve felt before, and not just in my girly parts.
My cheeks flame red when I hand him the toilet paper, and he cleans me up. Then sits me on the counter again and washes both our hands. Just like last night, he adds toothpaste and hands me the toothbrush. When I’m done, he wets a washcloth and cleans my face.
