11. Chapter
Samantha
I 've heard of love at first sight. I've read about it in hundreds of romance novels.
But there's something about how I feel about Asher that makes me think—
Oh.
So this is what love at first sight means.
Is it crazy to fall in love with a man that broke into your house to save you?
Nah. No way.
And he didn't even bat an eye when I decided to go home to change, sneakily leaving my overnight bag at his place. This way, if I manage to finagle another sleepover, it's kind of like I live there. My own clothes, ready at any time.
It's stupid, but it gives me a little sense of satisfaction.
I'm delusional. Jesus Christ.
Milo perks his ears at me in curiosity.
"Do you want a daddy, Milo?" I pick him up and nuzzle my nose into his fur as we enter my room. "I think I want to give you one. Would you mind?"
He whines and licks my nose.
"I'll take that as a yes."
But, how do I get a man like Asher to fall in love with me?
He's gorgeous. He's successful. He's internet-famous. There isn't a speck of flab on his sexy body, and he fucks like a god. The way that he ordered me around in the game, playing my body like a musician plays their instrument…
Heat pools between my legs, and I have to clench my thighs together for a moment.
He's all that, but me?
I'm just the too-young neighbor who lives next door.
What do I have to bring to his table?
Sex. But he can get that anywhere.
I groan and flop onto my bed, burying my face in the pillow. No. I can't think like that. I won't admit defeat before I've even begun.
Determination surges through me and I sit up. I'm not giving up on Asher that easily. Sure, I may not be some gorgeous supermodel or have a high-powered career, but damn it, I'm a catch! I'm funny and kind and not too shabby in the sack, if I do say so myself. And okay, maybe I don't have a ton of experience, but Asher certainly wasn't complaining last night...
A smile tugs at my lips as I recall how he touched me, worshipped me, drove me wild with pleasure. He didn't treat me like some forgettable one-night stand. No, the way he looked at me, held me close afterward... It has to mean something, right? That maybe, just maybe, he feels this intense, inexplicable connection between us too.
I stand and pace, suddenly buzzing with nervous energy. Does this mean Asher and I are in a relationship now? Like a real, adult relationship? Oh god, I have no idea how to navigate that. I feel like a teenager again, trying to decipher a crush's every word and action for hidden meanings. It's ridiculous.
No more games. I need to woman up, march over there, and have an actual conversation with Asher about what last night meant and what he expects going forward. Put all the cards on the table.
"Easy peasy," I mutter, but my stomach twists itself in knots at the mere thought. I've never been great at confrontation or emotional discussions. Especially with a guy who makes my brain short-circuit with a single smoldering look.
I stop pacing. Okay, deep breaths. I can do this. I want to do this, want something real with Asher. And that means opening up, being vulnerable, and yeah, risking the possibility of rejection. But the potential reward? It's worth it. He's worth it.
Mind made up, I throw on a cute sundress that shows off my curves and a dash of lip gloss. Nothing wrong with stacking the deck a bit in my favor, right? I give myself a once-over in the mirror, then nod. Time to go get my man.
I scoop up Milo and head downstairs, adrenaline pumping through my veins. A glance at the clock tells me that business hours have begun, and the glass repair company should be here at any time between now and the end of the day. Perfect timing for a casual, "we need to talk" ambush.
I crack open the front door, peeking over at Asher's duplex. His living room blinds are open.
Were they open last night?
Did we give the neighborhood a show?
I try to remember, but can't. They probably weren't. I think I would have realized if they were.
Right?
"Wish me luck," I whisper to Milo, setting him down. Then I square my shoulders, suck in a fortifying breath, and march into his side of the duplex before I can chicken out.
He's not in the living room.
Or the kitchen.
I head upstairs, peeking into a bedroom I didn't go in yesterday. It looks like an office, with a computer already set up. He's not there, either.
Bedroom?
I peek inside, and can hear water running in the adjoined bathroom. He's showering.
"Milo, stay here." I point at a corner of the room, and he slinks over, with a mournful look over his shoulder. "I'll be right back, I promise."
Steam billows out as I step into the bathroom, heart pounding. Through the frosted glass of the shower door, Asher's silhouette moves under the spray. Water sluices over his broad shoulders, down his muscled back.
God, he's beautiful.
I swallow hard, desire sparking low in my belly. Is this crazy? Ambushing the man in his own shower the morning after mind-blowing sex?
But I need to know where we stand. Need to tell him how I feel, even if it makes me vulnerable.
I strip off my sundress and underwear with shaking hands, leaving them pooled on the tile. Naked, I press a palm to the glass.
"Asher?" His name comes out breathy, barely audible over the rush of water.
He stills, then turns. "Sam?"
I slide the door open and step into the shower, pulse racing. "I hope this is okay, I just—"
Whatever else I planned to say dies on my tongue. Because oh my god, he's magnificent. Water droplets cling to the flat planes of his stomach, the V of his hips. Follow the trail of dark blonde hair down to his—
"This is more than okay," he rumbles, eyes roaming over my bare skin. Heated. Hungry. "C'mere."
Strong hands grip my waist, pulling me flush against him. I gasp at the contact, the delicious slide of wet skin on skin. His erection presses hot and hard into my belly.
Asher claims my mouth in a searing kiss, plundering deep. Demanding. I whimper and wind my arms around his neck, surrendering to the onslaught.
He walks me back until I'm pinned to the cool tile wall, every glorious inch of him pushing against me. Large hands skim my ribs, my waist, settling on my hips.
"Fuck, I want you," he rasps against my lips. "Couldn't stop thinking about you. The sounds you make. How tight and perfect you feel."
A broken moan escapes me. His words light me up, make me throb with need. "Asher..."
He kneads my ass, then lifts me like I weigh nothing. I wrap my legs around his hips, locking my ankles at the small of his back. The thick head of his cock nudges my entrance and I shudder.
"Need to be inside you. Now." His voice is gravel, eyes almost black with lust.
I nod frantically. "Yes. Please, I—oh!"
He thrusts deep in one powerful surge, stealing my breath. Stretching me. Filling me so completely it aches. I dig my nails into his shoulders, head tipping back on a silent scream.
Asher sets a relentless pace, hips snapping in a delicious rhythm.
"You feel so fucking good, bunny. Did you come in here knowing I was daydreaming about fucking you again?"
I shake my head, whimpering at the pleasure coursing through me. I'm so full, so complete.
The obscene slap of wet flesh echoes off the bathroom walls. Steam swirls around us, water pounding my sensitized skin. Every stroke hits that secret spot inside me, tension coiling tighter and tighter.
"Fuck. You take me so well." His lips drag along my jaw, my throat. Sucking. Biting. Marking me as his.
"Harder," I pant, grinding against him. Desperate for more. "I need—"
He growls, slamming into me deeper. Harder. I'm mindless with pleasure, boneless, completely at his mercy.
"That's it. Let go for me, bunny. Come on my cock like a good girl."
His filthy words are my undoing. Every time he calls me a good girl, I come undone.
I shatter with a hoarse cry, convulsing around his thick length. Wave after wave crashes over me, pleasure bordering on pain.
Asher fucks me through it, never letting up. His rhythm falters, a strangled groan ripping from his chest.
"Sam. Fuck. Gonna come."
I clench around him, milking his release. Feel the hot pulse of it deep inside me as he finds his own blinding pleasure. He thrusts once, twice more, then stills. Buries his face in my neck, breath ragged.
For long moments, we stay locked together, hearts pounding in sync. Asher brushes tender kisses along my shoulder. Nuzzles under my jaw.
"I could get used to showers like this," he murmurs, smile curving against my skin. "Maybe you should ambush me more often."
A breathless laugh escapes me. "I'll keep that in mind."
He eases out of me carefully, setting me on my feet and turning me so the spray hits my back. Strong arms wrap around my waist, pulling my chest flush against his.
His chin settles on top of my head, and I bask in the comfort of the moment. From passion to cuddles.
I like this.
"So, not that I'm complaining, but something tells me you didn't come in here just to jump my bones." Amusement laces his tone. "What's on your mind, little bunny?"
I lean into him, suddenly nervous. The bravado that carried me into his shower abandons me.
"I wanted to talk. About last night. About us." I feel his chest rise and fall on a deep breath.
Asher's lips brush the top of my head, a tender gesture that sends warmth flooding through me. But anxiety churns in my gut, the need to define this—us—overwhelming.
I tilt my head back, meeting his piercing gaze. "What are we doing here, Asher? What kind of relationship is this?"
He's quiet for a long moment, brow furrowing. My heart sinks. Shit. Did I ruin everything by pushing for answers he's not ready to give?
Panic rising, I stumble over my words. "I mean, I don't want to assume anything. I just... I like you. A lot. But if you're not looking for more than sex, I get it. We could do friends with benefits. Or if you'd rather I didn't text you all the time or show up here, that's fine too, I—"
"Hey. Stop." Asher's hands cup my face, thumbs stroking my cheekbones. His eyes are soft. Serious. "You're not a hook-up or a booty call, Sam. I'm crazy about you."
Relief crashes through me, followed by a giddy flutter in my chest. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." He ducks his head, lips grazing mine. A barely-there caress. "I want to do this right. Take you on real dates. Be the guy who holds your hand and buys you flowers and all that cheesy shit. Stay together. My goal is forever, Sam. I don't do casual."
I can't help but smile against his mouth. I don't do casual, either. "I like cheesy shit."
"Yeah?" His lips curve. "Even with an old man like me?"
"I told you, you don't look a day over twenty-nine."
"Okay. How about dinner tonight? I'll pick you up at seven, bring you those flowers."
"It's a date." Joy fizzes through my veins. I push up on my toes, arms twining around his neck as I capture his mouth. He kisses me back thoroughly, hands splayed across my lower back.
"Mmm. Hold that thought, bunny." Asher nips my bottom lip, then reaches past me to shut off the water. "We have handymen to deal with first, remember?"
"Ugh. Don't remind me." I really don't want to deal with any of that, but let him lead me out of the shower. He wraps me in a fluffy towel, pressing a smacking kiss to my forehead.
"Go get dressed. I'll meet you downstairs in ten."
Another quick peck and he strides out, completely unconcerned with his nudity. I admire the flex of his truly spectacular ass until he disappears into the bedroom.
Giddiness bubbles up again as I towel off and pull my sundress over my head. I have to bite my lip to contain the face-splitting grin threatening to break free.
Asher Sinclair wants to date me. Bring me flowers. Be my boyfriend. Date with forever in mind.
I can get used to this.