Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Kat
I wake up with a warm, solid body beside me, and I can’t help the little smile that spreads across my lips at the confirmation that last night was definitely real. That I didn’t just dream the whole thing.
Asher’s arm is around my waist, and the scent of male skin and woodsy, spicy body wash cling to my pillows, filling my nostrils.
If that wasn’t enough confirmation that I’m not hallucinating, the delicious soreness between my legs is a stark reminder of everything that happened between us.
My muscles ache in places I’d forgotten existed, and I wonder if I’ll have marks where he gripped my hips, or from when he slapped my ass.
God, I hope so.
I like the idea that I’ll get to keep those souvenirs for a while, evidence that last night wasn’t some incredibly realistic fantasy that my lust-addled brain conjured up.
Asher stirs beside me, his arm tightening around my waist as he slowly starts to wake up.
His dark hair is thoroughly mussed from sleep and from having my fingers buried in it last night, and when he opens those blue-gray eyes and gives me a lazy, satisfied smile, my clit throbs as if he just ran his tongue between my legs.
“Morning, bright eyes,” he murmurs.
The nickname that started as part of our fake relationship now feels like an endearment that belongs entirely to us, to whatever this thing between us is becoming. Something that exists outside the boundaries of our arrangement.
“Morning.” I can’t help but smile back, feeling suddenly shy despite the fact that I was literally screaming his name last night.
There’s something surreal about this moment, lying here in the soft morning light, his hair falling across his forehead and making him look rumpled and content in a way that I really like.
I stretch against him, luxuriating in the feel of his skin against mine, then wince slightly as the movement reminds me exactly how thoroughly he took me apart last night.
My inner thighs protest, my pussy aching in a way I’ve honestly never felt before in the aftermath of sex—which I guess makes sense, because I’ve never had the kind of sex I had last night.
His eyes sharpen immediately, concern passing across his features as he catches my small grimace. One hand moves to my hip, his thumb stroking gentle circles over the skin there.
“Did I hurt you? Was I too rough?”
The worry in his voice is so different from Daniel’s usual indifference to my comfort that I can’t help but smile. My ex never asked if I was okay, never seemed to notice or care whether I enjoyed myself.
“Not at all,” I assure him quickly. “You were perfect. I’m just… a little sore.”
Even as I finish speaking, I can see something shift in his expression. The concern doesn’t disappear, but it’s joined by something else—a masculine satisfaction that has an almost caveman-like quality.
“Good,” he says, smiling hungrily. His thumb traces over one of the fingerprint bruises on my hip, making me shiver. “I like knowing you’ll feel me today. Every time you move, every time you sit down, you’ll remember what I did to you last night.”
The filthy, possessive words make my skin heat and my clit throb. “You’re a bad influence.”
“You love it.”
His grin is male arrogance, and damn if he isn’t right. I do love it. I love this side of him—confident and possessive and completely unashamed of the effect he has on me.
My stomach chooses this moment to growl loudly, the sound particularly pronounced in the quietness of the bedroom.
We both laugh, the sound breaking some of the sexual tension and reminding us that we’re still human beings with basic needs beyond the blazing chemistry that keeps pulling us together.
“Must’ve worked up an appetite,” Asher observes with a heated grin.
“We burned a lot of calories last night,” I point out, my cheeks warming.
“Damn right, we did. And now I need to feed you properly.” He shoots me a wink. “I’m fucking starving too, and I think we’ve earned a big breakfast.”
Daniel would never have gone out of his way to make sure I got fed after a night of marathon sex. But then again, maybe that’s because we never had a night of marathon sex in our entire relationship. Turns out, I’m having a lot of firsts this holiday season.
When the hunger starts to outweigh the desire to laze around, we eventually drag ourselves out of bed, and I grab a quick shower while Asher gets dressed.
My legs are still a little shaky, and every once in a while, a little jolt of sensation shoots through me, as if my nerve endings can’t stop firing now that they’ve been woken up.
By the time I’m ready, he is too, and we climb into his rental car to head out in search of food.
I decide now is the perfect time for him to try Li’l Dipper, so I direct him toward the old diner that’s been a town staple for years.
The place is busy with the usual morning crowd as we walk inside and slide into a booth.
I shift carefully in my seat, hyperaware of the soreness between my legs as Asher hangs up my coat on the hook by the end of the booth.
Our waitress comes by a few minutes later, giving me a familiar wave. I recognize her as Cindy, a girl who was a few years behind me in high school, and I greet her back.
She’s cute, with a petite frame, strawberry blonde hair, and a smattering of freckles across her face, and I catch her checking Asher out as we look at the menus that were tucked in with the condiments.
I’ve noticed it happening all week, women looking at him with obvious interest. At my grandma’s party, the ice rink, even walking down the street.
He’s the kind of guy who draws attention without even trying.
It brings up something that makes me wince slightly, an old wound from my relationship with Daniel.
He always basked in female attention, preening subtly whenever another woman flirted with him or complimented his appearance.
I don’t think he ever cheated on me or anything, but there was never any doubt in my mind that he loved the validation and the ego boost of being flirted with.
He either didn’t notice or didn’t care that it hurt my feelings to see him enjoy other women’s interest so openly, or that it made me feel invisible even when I was standing right beside him.
“What can I get you folks this morning?” Cindy asks, her gaze lingering on Asher a beat longer than necessary.
“Grilled cheeses for both of us,” Asher replies, shooting me a questioning look to confirm that his guess about my order is right.
I nod, unable to suppress my smile. “And a side of bacon for me.”
“You know what? For me too.” He hands her back the menus. “And plenty of coffee, please.”
She giggles, writing it down on the little pad she pulls from her apron. She shoots him one more look as she walks away, and even though I don’t know quite why I say it, I find myself murmuring, “She’s pretty.”
“Is she?” Asher frowns, seeming surprised by the observation. Belatedly, I realize that his gaze never really left me during the entire interaction. “I wouldn’t know. I was too busy thinking about how gorgeous you look this morning.”
The compliment sends heat racing through me, especially when he leans across the table and drops his voice to a rough register that makes my thighs clench.
“You have this glow about you.” He slides his tongue along his teeth lightly, his focus lingering on my face. “Your cheeks are flushed a gorgeous pink, just the way your ass was from my handprint last night. It’s incredibly sexy.”
“Asher!” I protest softly, glancing around to make sure no one can overhear us.
“What? It’s true. You look like a woman who’s been properly fucked, and I fucking love it.”
My face flames, but I can’t deny the thrill that runs through me at his crude assessment. There’s something about the way he says it—matter-of-fact and possessive and completely unashamed—that makes me feel wanton and sexy.
When our food arrives, I’m still flustered and aroused, aware of every look he gives me, every casual touch when he reaches across the table to steal a piece of bacon from my plate.
The grilled cheese sandwiches are even better than I remembered, mouthwateringly cheesy and crispy.
Exactly the kind of indulgent comfort food my body is craving after the workout it got last night.
I take a bite and can’t help the moan of pleasure that escapes.
I’m starving, and the combination of flavors is exactly what I need right now.
Asher pauses with his own sandwich halfway to his mouth, watching me. He mutters a curse under his breath.
I grin, swallowing. “What?”
“You’re killing me, making noises like that.” He shakes his head. “Goddamn. It’s a miracle I ever managed to keep my shit together around you, especially these last few days.”
Something flutters in my chest at the admission. “Was the tension driving you as crazy as it was driving me?”
“More.”
I smile, pleased to know it wasn’t just me losing my mind. “Does that mean we’re going to keep doing this? Hooking up?”
“Hell fucking yes.” His face grows more serious for a moment, his gaze searching mine. “But I need to know if you’re really okay with this. With it just being sex. Knowing it won’t go anywhere.”
A flicker of doubt ripples through me, a small voice asking if I really can keep this casual. But I push that worry aside, laughing softly as I arch a brow at him. “Are you kidding me? You made my body feel things last night that I’ve never felt before. I’m definitely okay with it. This is fun.”
And it is fun. It’s exciting and freeing and makes me feel alive in a way I really fucking like.
His eyes heat at my words. “Yeah, it is. And I have an idea of a few other fun things we could do.”
I blush, my pussy clenching even though he hasn’t said anything particularly dirty yet. “Oh yeah? Like what?”