He’s pulling away. This whole situation we’ve gotten ourselves into has become more complex than I ever anticipated. If I had to guess, he’s noticed that too.
I’m deep in thought and cleaning the kitchen counters when the front door slams shut. When I spin around, Asher is standing in front of me, intense energy radiating from him.
I suck in a breath. “Ash.”
“I need you.”
I step forward, noting the desperation behind his eyes. “Is everything okay?”
“I need you,” he repeats.
He’s a man on a mission and I’m his call of duty.
I loop my arms around his neck, and the second I nod, he lifts me up and onto the kitchen counter.
The granite is cool against my bare thighs, forcing me to inhale sharply.
“Where’d you find this shirt, Doc?” he commands, fisting the soft cotton fabric.
“In the laundry room.”
“Liar.” He bites down lightly on my shoulder.
I wish he’d do it harder, leave his mark on me.
“I put away all the laundry this morning. Try again.”
Without responding, I tilt my head, giving him better access to my neck.
His lips brush over my skin as he murmurs, “Did you go through my drawers?”
I groan, having been caught red-handed.
“Oh, you naughty, naughty girl, Claire.”
Leaning back slightly, I glare at him. “Excuse me, sir, but I seem to remember someone sabotaging my bikini tops for his pleasure. I think we’re even, Greer.”
He lets out a pitiful laugh. “What can I say, I…”
When he doesn’t finish that sentiment, I angle back and quirk a brow.
“Yeah, I’ve got nothing.” He laughs, hanging his head in the most adorable way.
Threading my fingers through his hair, which has grown since the beginning of the summer, I push back and catch his gaze. The lust burning in his hooded eyes makes my thighs clench around his waist.
He presses his hand between my breasts, signaling for me tolie back, and when I do, he grips my ankles and rests my feet on the counter.
“Do I have your consent?”
“Always” leaves my lips before I have a chance to contemplate the weight of that one word.
He runs his nose up and down my covered slit, then sucks on my cotton-covered clit.
Head back, I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing my panties would evaporate. Instead, he hooks his finger under the elastic and tugs the fabric to the side. Once I’m exposed, he blows against my pussy, sending shivers up my spine.
I squirm, impatient for him to devour me.
Eyes widening, he says, “This pussy is a masterpiece.”
