Asher wanted no part in decorating his sister’s wedding night suite—that’s fair—so I handed him my key and told him to help himself to anything in my apartment, including calling down for room service.
Cam excuses himself to catch up on some work, and Joey and I have a ridiculously fun time decorating for our friends, taking obnoxious selfies throughout the process.
I’m still wearing a huge grin on my face when I stride into my apartment.
“Ash?” I call, expecting to find him lounging on the sectional watching videos of Bea or taking a nap.
“Back here,” he replies.
I follow the sound of his voice to the laundry room, and when I find him, I zero in on the corded muscles and veins of his arm as he grips the iron.
A domestic Asher is a damn fine sight.
“Hope this is okay,” he says, running the iron across a pair of midnight blue slacks.
“Of course,” I say, my voice breathy. “Make yourself at home. I’m gonna order something to eat. Do you have any preferences?”
When he shakes his head, I turn to leave, but he calls my name before I make it out of the room.
“C’mere.” He sets the iron upright on the board and then grasps my wrist and tugs me into him, pressing his lips against mine. The kiss is tender at first, but in a matter of seconds, he’s gripping my nape tightly and thrusting his tongue into my mouth. He’s commanding and greedy, and I’m putty in his hands. When I reach around to his backside and squeeze his tight ass, he moans.
Then, all too soon, he’s pulling away.
Breath shaky, I blink up at him. “What was that for?”
“If we’re going to keep this a secret for the rest of the night, I wanted something to hold me over.”
I slide a hand down his chest. “I’ve never been someone’s dirty little secret before.”
His eyes narrow. “You’re anything but dirty, Claire.”
“You haven’t seen what I bought for later.” I pat him on the pec, then pivot on my heel and leave him to finish his domestic duties.
Later, we FaceTime Bea. She couldn’t care less about being away from either of us. She’s having way too much fun making homemade ice cream with Grandma and Grandpa.
In preparation for the evening’s festivities, I take a shower. I’m standing in a towel, my hair freshly blown out, applying the finishing touches to my makeup, when there’s a tap on the open doorway.
Behind me, he holds up two shirts. “Which one?”
I’m too distracted by the sight of his broad, bare chest in the mirror to answer. His pants hang low on his hips, his belt unbuckled, accentuating his obliques. Rather than inspect the shirts, I imagine tracing his taut muscles with my tongue.
He shakes both shirts gently, snapping me out of my daze.
Clearing my throat, I turn to face him and focus on the garments in question. Right away, I point to the short-sleeve ivory button-down. “That one. It doesn’t clash with your nails,” I tease before turning back to the mirror to apply mascara.
Asher looks slightly annoyed when I finally come out of the bedroom, fully dressed and ready to go but late as usual. Only I have a feeling all will be forgiven in just one moment.
“Wow,” he exhales. “You look stunning.”
I’m wearing a strapless corset bodycon midi dress in a coral color with nude platforms. The garment alone makes me feel sexy, but Asher’s ignited expression is an added perk.
“I have something for you. Close your eyes.”
Brow furrowed, he gives me a skeptical look, but he does as he’s told.Such a good boy.
Taking his hand, I place a rectangular piece of plastic into it.
His brows scrunch in contemplation, but he doesn’t peek.
