CHAPTER TWO
Asher admitted to a certain level of irrationality as the last of his third Vodka Sour slid down his throat.
He’d been sitting on the same barstool since he’d arrived at Swerve, his back to the bar, half his attention on the dance floor while the other half remained fixated on the entrance to his right.
He wasn’t obsessed or anything. Intrigued, maybe, but not obsessed.
Just because he’d spent most of his Saturday hiding in his office and thinking about a stranger instead of working didn’t mean anything.
If he worried a little more than he should that Cameron might not show up, well, that didn’t mean anything either.
His uncertainty irked the hell out of him.
Most guys tripped over themselves to get close to him.
They didn’t run screaming in the opposite direction.
More to the point, he couldn’t remember the last time he fucking cared.
If someone didn’t want to follow him to his bed, no skin off his nose.
There was always the next guy in line. Then the next. And the next.
Cameron fucking Stone.
If he could just figure out what it was about him, he could move on and forget they’d ever met.
As it stood, he couldn’t get the man out of his head.
Honestly, Cameron wasn’t even his type. Yet, he couldn’t deny the juxtaposition between Cameron’s prim and proper appearance— who the hell did up all the buttons on a fucking polo?
—and the fire in his eyes when he’d unabashedly raked his gaze over Asher’s body had been sexy as fuck.
Then, the moment he’d realized he’d been caught, he’d turned about twelve different shades of red and ducked his head shyly. It had been the cutest thing Asher had ever seen.
And he didn’t do cute.
At first, he’d thought Cameron had been flirting with him, but it hadn’t taken him long to understand the poor guy just kept putting his foot in his mouth.
Every time Cameron’s eyes had widened or his cheeks had flushed, Asher had been tempted to push him up against the wall and kiss him breathless.
Or drag him to his bedroom like a caveman and see how many more ways he could make him blush.
“Hey,” a voice whispered in his ear. “Nice shoes. Wanna fuck?”
Asher glanced down at the pointed toes of his leather boots and grinned. “Does that line ever actually work?”
A slender man with light-brown hair, freckled skin, and smirking lips sidled around him to slide onto the empty stool to his right. “Not yet, but I figure the law of averages says it’s bound to eventually.” He batted his thick lashes as he leaned back against the bar. “So, who are you waiting for?”
Asher jerked. “No one.”
“Right, because you always stalk the door like this. Come on, Ash.”
“Luke,” he growled in warning.
“Asher,” Luke sang right back. “Tell me.”
Unfortunately, the object of his—okay, obsession —chose that moment to stroll through the door. Asher inhaled deeply, his nostrils flared, and every ounce of blood in his body drained right to his dick. None of which went unnoticed by Luke.
Spinning around, he scanned the crowd near the entrance, and Asher knew the moment his gaze landed on Cameron. “Oh, he’s nice. What’s his name?”
Asher furrowed his brow but bit the inside of his cheek to hold back the words on his tongue.
Luke McKibbon might be his best friend—his only friend—but he didn’t like the way the asshole’s whole damn body lit up while he talked about Cameron.
Moreover, he was stupidly angry about Luke’s description. Cameron was far more than nice .
Raking his fingers through his hair, Asher leaned back against the bar and groaned. What the hell was wrong with him? He didn’t know Cameron from the man in the moon, and judging by their single interaction, he would probably have more luck talking the latter into his bed.
What is it about this guy ?
Smaller than average, Cameron stood nearly a head shorter than Asher’s own six-feet-three, but his sleek frame was all hard lines and lean muscles.
Fuck, everything about him was a contradiction.
His jaw was sharp enough to cut glass, but his lips looked so soft and plump and…
bitable. He kept his chocolate-brown locks styled conservatively—just a little longer on top and parted smartly to one side—which matched his stuffy, buttoned-up appearance, but there was nothing proper about those eyes.
Fuck, those eyes.
Irises that icy blue should feel cold and distant, not as if they could pierce into his soul and scorch him from the inside out with one fleeting glance. Cameron Stone was a goddamn walking, talking mystery, and one Asher needed to unravel if he hoped to maintain his sanity.
“Ash?” Luke asked, clearly unaware of his internal meltdown.
“Cameron,” he answered grudgingly. “Cameron Stone.”
Luke nodded but didn’t look at him. “Where’d you meet him?”
“My place.” True enough, even if he’d withheld a few crucial details.
That caught Luke’s attention, and when he turned, his lips had curved into a triumphant grin. “Does that mean you’re finished with him? ”
Not trusting himself to say anything remotely casual or even smart, Asher stayed silent.
“What’s he do?” Luke’s smile faded, and his expression melted into something a little more contemplative. “He looks like an accountant.”
Asher snorted. His friend’s description wasn’t far from the mark.
Swerve didn’t have a dress code, which most patrons assumed meant wearing as little as possible.
Even Asher’s tight jeans and tighter black T-shirt could be considered overdressed for the club.
With his pressed slacks, starched button-down in a boring shade of gray, and shiny black loafers, Cameron might as well have hung a sign around his neck that announced him as fresh meat.
“I didn’t stop to get his credentials,” he answered Luke with a shrug. There, that sounded like something he would say, even if he really wanted to know the answer himself.
“Who’s he with?”
Until that moment, Asher hadn’t even noticed the man standing next to Cameron, but he should have. Hell, the guy practically stood on top of him, his hand resting on Cameron’s shoulder with a familiarity that made Asher’s stomach burn.
Jesus, calm the fuck down, Ash. You don’t even know this guy.
Great, now he was talking to himself. In second person. Wonderful .
“Hold up.” Luke cocked his head to the side, a frown tugging at his mouth. “Why are you waiting for him? Everyone knows you don’t do seconds.”
“I’m not waiting for him.”
Something sparked in Luke’s sea-green eyes, gone too fast for Asher to name, and he sat up a little straighter. “Unless you only got an appetizer.”
“Not like that.”
“So, he’s fair game?” Luke pressed.
Asher just nodded, unsure of how to answer that question. Fuck off, he’s mine sounded a little too possessive, not to mention it would spark a shit load of questions he had no idea how to answer.
“Are you sure you’re not waiting for him, because he’s coming this way.”
Asher’s gaze flickered toward the entrance, and sure enough, he found Cameron striding toward him, his tattooed, leather-clad companion crowding against his back.
What the hell was up with that guy anyway?
He could be a lover, maybe a boyfriend, but Asher couldn’t picture Cameron with someone like that.
Brother? That seemed even more unlikely.
Besides, Cameron had said something about meeting his sister.
Yes, because he can only have one sibling, genius. The little voice in his head was really starting to piss him off .
Stopping right in front of him, Cameron tucked his hands into his pockets and peeked up at Asher through the thickest, most impossibly long lashes. “Hey.”
One word. Just that one shyly spoken word, and Asher melted. The guy was just too damn sweet for his own good—or Asher’s for that matter.
“Hey,” he answered back. Lame . Cursing himself, he turned and signaled the bartender for another drink. “Can I get you something?” he asked over his shoulder.
“Oh, uh, just water. Thanks.”
Asher bit back a groan as his cock swelled behind his zipper at that slow, uncertain smile. When the bartender slid his drink in front of him, he ordered a bottle of water, then waited for the young man to return before swiveling back to face Cameron.
“Who’s your friend?” he asked, passing him the sweating bottle. If it came off a little more accusatory than he’d intended, whatever.
“Friend? Oh!” Tilting his head back, Cameron glanced up at Tattoo Guy with such an open, unguarded expression, Asher nearly growled.
“Nico Hart,” the guy answered, extending his hand, but he didn’t smile.
“Asher Dare.” The handshake was firm, not intimidating, but still laced with the subtle hint of threat. “Nice to meet you. ”
Nico grinned then, as if he knew what Asher really wanted to say. “Cam never goes to the club, so when he said he wanted to come to Swerve tonight, I couldn’t resist tagging along.”
Asher ground his teeth together at the way the asshole shortened Cameron’s name and wrapped his lips around it like a caress.
“I’m sure you couldn’t.” From the corner of his eye, he caught Luke watching the exchange with a heavy dose of confusion.
Welcome to the club. “This is my friend, Luke.” He waved his hand around vaguely. “Luke, say hello.”
“Hello,” he said with a cheeky grin. “Nice shoes.”
Cameron glanced down at his feet. “Uh, thanks?”
“Luke,” Asher growled.
His friend paid him no mind. “Wanna fuck?”
Cameron blushed. Asher groaned. Nico, however, threw his head back and barked out a laugh that shook his whole body.
When he’d regained his composure, he offered his hand to Luke with a look that could only be described as predatory. “Let’s dance.”
A visible shiver rippled through Luke, but he didn’t hesitate to slide his palm against Nico’s and hop down from his seat. “Oh. My. God,” he mouthed over his shoulder to Asher. Then, aloud, “Don’t wait up!”