Heisthinking about me. Even after seeing his body, it’s the memory of his hand on my cheek that does things to me. So gentle. With everything I know about Ash, I never expected that… kindness, sensuality, understanding. He saw me.
No. He’s a rich asshole, and I’m just horny. That means there’s one quick fix to purging this confusion.
“I’ll say it,” I begin, letting our tension burn through my restraint. “I find you attractive. You’ve been looking at me all day. I’ve been looking back. So…” I stand and step forward to close some distance. “You want to do this? Before bed?”
“What?” Ash folds his laptop half-closed, a hand on his chest like a caricature of shock.
“We’re adults.” I take another step, close enough to pop the thin veil of propriety between us. “And youhavebeen staring at me all day.”
“I have not!”
“You have. And you’re not half bad yourself”—the understatement of the century—“I know what you want.”
He stays barricaded behind his laptop, siphoning away my courage. I have enough for one more step.
He stands, shock sliding into something more guarded, a cage for something wild.
“You think you’ve got me figured out?” he asks, stepping closer.
“Uh-huh.” I hold my breath to let him close the distance.
“Each week, I invest the same amount of money at the same time,” he says, voice low, almost a purr. The content is a snoozefest, but his breath is warm on my face. “I follow the same workout regimen. I publish a podcast about minimizing risk.” His hand brushes my arm, sending a shiver through me. I don’t care what he’s saying. “You really think I’m the kind of guy who does one-night stands?” he asks quietly, a breath away. His hand stays on my arm. “I’m not. Too much risk.”
His expression isn’t playful. It’s… dismissive.
I push him away. “You’re an asshole.”
Ash drops back behind his keyboard, smirking. “You know me so well.”
“Yeah,” I say, flopping onto the couch, the smell of damp earth and something faintly rotten rising from the cushions. “Scared of losing control, you’d rather be lonely than honest. And you do hear how that makes the rest of us sound, right? Like anyone who has a one-night stand is reckless trash.”
“That’s not what I said.” He doesn’t look up. “I saidI’mnot reckless enough for one-night stands.”
If that’s true, it’s infuriating. If it’s a lie, it’s infuriating. Ash is infuriating.
“Did you think saying ‘you know me’ would be a turn-on?”
“Your loss,” I mutter, rolling so my back faces him and the fire. The cushion reeks, but I’m committed to stonewalling.
“Hope I didn’t embarrass you,” he says.
“Ash—I was trying to figure you out. Now I’m sleeping.”
“Figure me out?” he asks, still not letting it go.
I roll back over. He’s cross-legged by the furnace, laptop a little wall between us, hazel eyes fixed on me. Why do they feel like they see straight through me when I can’t decipher him even when he spells it out?
“Not that I’m having loads of casual sex,” I grumble.
“Oh?”
“One-night stands don’t make you reckless,” I say. “They make you free.”
“I can see the appeal.” It doesn’t sound like it’s the idea he finds appealing so much as the way I said it. “I mean, I get how that might be… nice. I’m just not wired that way.”
Since seduction didn’t pry clarity out of him, I try something else. “How are you wired?”
“I told you. Conservative. Disciplined. Calculating, and then avoiding, risks like this. Even if I do find you… attractive.”
