He shrugs, nonchalant and completely unbothered. I look to him, admiring his calmness and the way it sucks me into his orbit, making me calm too.
"It's done." No colorful prose or apologies. Just two words.
Dove stews in her anger as Wren changes the conversation, and suddenly no one is talking about my soon-to-be marriage anymore. Dinner goes on smoothly, Celeste and Leonard ignoring me for the most part. Afterwards, when others are dancing and mingling, Asher stands me up, wrapping his arms around me and nuzzling his face into the crook of my neck.
"You can't get enough of me," he murmurs. The statement catches me off guard for a moment, and then I remember his plan. That we're madly in love and are about to sneak back to our room.
I press a kiss to his jawline and curl into him, bringing my body as close as humanly possible.
He's warm and smells delicious, and I find comfort in his arms.
He pulls his face back, gray eyes scanning me before he leans in and kisses me again. That damn kiss. Like every other one, it knocks my breath away, and I cling to him, my body taking over, a feral need formore.
More of his mouth. More of his body. More of him.
His tongue enters my mouth, lashing against my own and tasting of mint. I melt into him, letting him control the kiss like he's controlled everything else tonight. And it feels easy. Right. Perfect.
There's no war in my mind. No anxiety-fueled monologues running through my mind.
It's quiet, completely focused on him.
"Let's go back to our room,fiancée," he says softly after breaking the kiss.
I can feel eyes on me, but none of them matter. Smiling, I nod and follow Asher as he leads me out of the room, my hand in his.
22
GRACE
The door to our room closes softly behind me. Asher begins unclipping his watch, tugging the expensive piece from his wrist and setting it on the dresser. He doesn't sit on the bed in his outside clothes, I've noticed. He moves to one of the chairs and lifts a leg to untie his shoe. The laces get tucked inside, and it's set perfectly straight before he moves onto the next one.
Asher is the most insane control freak I've ever met.
The corners of my lips lift in a small smile at my next thought.And I want him to control me.
It's a little fucked up. Handing over control of your entire being to another person. At least, that's what I've always thought when Kacey tried to explain submission to me.
I've always prided myself on being independent. And it's not like I'm going to hand it over to him forever.
But I'm starting to see why someone might want to.
"What are you doing?" He pauses, still sitting, now leaning forward, his muscular elbows propped on his knees.
"Waiting." My voice is breathy, and I'm quite certain that this could be a terrible idea.
That it could fuck up everything.
But I'm too curious.
And more than that, Iwantit.
Asher cocks an eyebrow. "For?"
"You to tell me what to do."
His face shifts, barely perceptible, but I wonder for a moment if I've surprised him. He doesn't give me much time to think, though. Rising from the chair, he slowly unbuttons his shirt and exposes his chest, inch by inch.
A pink flush heats my cheeks at the sight. I'm attracted to him. Who wouldn't be? He's sculpted in all the right places, with defined abs and a V that leads down to the top of his pants. I’ve never actively wanted to see what’s beneath a man’s pants. It’s always just been a step on the way to sex, but right now, if he did a striptease, I think my eyes would be glued to him.
