31. Afternoon Delight
AFTERNOON DELIGHT
Mark
Asher counts off on his fingers as we walk through the sand. “Let’s see. I introduced you to your first time with a dude. To first class on a plane. And now you’re, finally, after twenty-seven years, going to the beach.”
I shoot him a steely stare. “I’ve been to the beach before. Just not this beach,” I say as we trudge through the soft-as-sugar sand, flip-flops in hand, the sun casting rays high above us.
“Exactly. I took you to the beach,” he says, like he owns the world.
Shaking my head, I laugh. “You love all the credit, don’t you?”
“I deserve all the credit.”
He’s not wrong. Asher’s specialty is getting me to have a good time, and he’s earning top grades. I’m not entirely sure what I do for him, but maybe I’m simply entertainment during this trip?like staging this beach intervention has amused him.
My gaze travels around the sand and the surf. In the waves, a fit old dude tosses a tennis ball to a Border Collie. At the edge of the water, a pack of college-aged kids play volleyball.
And beside me is the guy I won’t see much after tomorrow night.
Funny, how on Tuesday morning I was dreading these days with him. Now a part of me dreads leaving Florida.
While we make our way through the sand, I picture another first time. My eyes laser in on his hand.
Ah, what the hell.
I reach for his hand, thread my fingers through his.
Without any hesitation, he curls his fingers tight through mine. I’m holding hands with a guy for the first time. Everything about this moment feels right.
Just right.
Even when Asher says, “Look at you. You’ve come so far from the day you hid behind the dressing room curtain at Angel Sanjay’s showroom.”
“I wouldn’t say I was hiding.”
With a laugh, he squeezes my fingers harder as we reach the surf and walk along the water. “You were. You were hiding and horny at the same time. Such a dangerous combination.”
I scoff-laugh. “You will never not mock me.”
He rubs his thumb in a circle along my wrist, the motion sending small shock waves of pleasure across my skin. “Truer words.”
I laugh, and Asher turns to me, studying my face, his eyes serious.
I school my expression. “What is it?”
We stop walking. He drops my hand, then his shoes. I follow suit, letting mine fall to the sand.
“There’s something I want to do,” he says, his voice a touch vulnerable, like he’s about to take a risk.
That look paired with that tone scrambles my thoughts. “Sex on the beach in the middle of the day might be my only line,” I tease.
He doesn’t laugh. Instead, his eyes pin me, and they glimmer. “You’re so fucking fearless, Banks. It’s insanely hot. You’re kind of wild in bed, and I love that,” he says, and my heart tries to destroy my sense of reason.
That dangerous organ wants to slam into Asher. But really, he’s making it clear what I do for him?I entertain him in bed.
That works for me for now .
I mean . . . it works plain and simple. There’s only a now with us. Nothing more, no matter how intensely he looks at me.
“But . . .” Asher drags out the word. “That’s not what I want to do right now.”
Whatever he wants to do, I want it. “Do it. Whatever it is.”
A crooked grin curves his lips. “That’s what I mean.” His breath comes in a quick huff, like he can’t get enough oxygen either.
Then, he threads his fingers through my hair, and my muscles quiver with anticipation.
He draws his hands toward my face again, then gently slides off my shades. He folds them, tucks them into his pocket, and lets out a low, swoony hum of desire.
He curls his hands over my shoulders, and in some kind of voodoo slow-motion move, he dips his face to mine, then brushes his soft lips against my right eyelid.
My insides jump.
Asher murmurs, like he’s drifting off to another land as he gives the same treatment to my left eye. A gentle caress of his lips, and like that, my body doubles down on bliss.
But on something else too.
Some strange new sensation that makes my heart thunder.
Then, thump around in my chest when Asher stops just to catch his breath. He presses his forehead to mine. “Wanted to do that for so long,” he admits.
I’m so glad he staged a beach escape. I never knew what I was missing. This feeling in my body. Like I’ve escaped from my head, and it’s fantastic.
I’m not even sure what to say in response to his confession.
Thank you feels weird, but it’s on the tip of my tongue. Except, with the way he touches me, his hands sliding down my arms, the gratitude feels pretty damn mutual.
Maybe that’s what he’s getting out of this thing with me.
The same thing I get with him.
Want .
A bottomless kind of want that I feel everywhere.
Trouble is, there’s a flagpole in my shorts.
So I pull an Asher St. James.
Grabbing my shades from his pocket, I carefully set them down on my flip-flops, then I jerk off my T-shirt, yank off his, and I haul him all the way into the water and fall backwards into the ocean. With a loud, satisfying and salty splash.
“See? I knew you’d like the beach,” he says as he sinks into the water too.
A wave rolls over us, and we bob for a few seconds.
“I do, which is why we needed an erection intervention,” I tell him. “Or I was at a serious risk of showing the good people of Miami the biggest boner of all time.”
He cracks up, dragging both hands through his messy, wet hair. “Thank you for your service.”
I tap my temple. “I’m always thinking.”
His gaze goes warm and lazy. “Not always. When we’re fucking, you stop thinking. And you like it.”
“Yes I do. Also, stop talking about fucking right now.”
“If I must.”
He’s quiet for a second. And I’m about to change the subject, when suddenly, Asher grabs my waist in a tackle. I take a gulping breath before he plunges me underwater. And when I almost choke anyway, it’s from laughing. “You dick,” I say.
“You love my dick.”
True. But I fight back anyway, sweeping his feet out from under him.
Although it’s hard work horsing around with a professional athlete. He rolls, gaining the upper hand, and I have to take another quick breath before he dunks me again.
I’m outclassed in this wrestling match against all his battle-hardened muscles. But my God, the view . I may be losing, but I’m winning at life.
We goof off in the ocean for a long time, and everything about this beach date is perfect.
Including the hammock we find at the edge of the sand when we get out of the water.
“Let’s dry off,” he says.
“Code for make out in a hammock?” I ask.
He curls his hand over my ass as we walk. “You know me so well.”
Maybe I do.
And maybe I like that.
“I think this was made for one person,” Asher announces as he sinks down into the hammock, which hangs between two palm trees.
“Then you better get out,” I tell him.
He scoffs, then reaches for me. “Get in here and get next to me.”
“So bossy,” I say, then slide next to him, the woven rope smushing us together, shoulder to crushed shoulder. “This is comfy.”
“Do I detect a note of sarcasm, Banks?”
“All the sarcasm.” But I’m not going anywhere. This is exactly where I want to be. “I could spend the whole day here.”
It comes out like a joke, but it’s all true.
“Same here,” he says, a dry note in his voice too. And he’s not moving either.
Maybe we’re both saying the same thing—that we don’t want to go.
Or maybe that’s wishful thinking on my part.
I’m honestly not sure what’s happening in my mind anymore or my dumb heart. Everything just feels good with Asher. Like a drug, a hit of the best stuff.
And all I want is to stay intoxicated.
So I shift my body, a task which isn’t the easiest while lazing in a roped swing. But I soldier on, the hooks of the hammock creaking as I turn toward him, then brush my lips along his neck.
“Mmm. Do that again,” he rasps out.
“With pleasure,” I say, and I rub my jaw across his.
He sighs softly, a throaty rumble finishing off the sound. And for the first time ever, I feel like I’m seducing him.
It’s a good feeling, and it drives me on.
I brush another soft kiss to his warm skin, then loop my hands through his damp strands. “Floofy when wet too,” I whisper, but he has no time to protest since I nip his earlobe, and the moan that falls from his lips is my reward.
I take my time, coasting lazy kisses along his neck as his hand slides down my side, his leg hooking over mine.
We’re not quite indecent, and that feels right too.
This afternoon delight. I want to stay here forever—on vacation with him, my body floating in this state of suspended desire, his husky voice gliding over my skin.
“I meant what I said about last night, Banks,” he says. “I enjoyed it just as much as . . .”
I can’t hide my smile even as I deflect. “You did not.”
He grabs my hand, threads his fingers through mine. “I did, Banks. Trust me, I did.”
And I decide to trust that it’s the truth. “Me too. I think,” I say. “I remember maybe five seconds.”
“You were out of it, and it was still . . . good for me.”
My chest squeezes. Why does he have to say those things?
“I liked your text too,” I say, pushing the limits with that barest admission. “That was good for me,” I add, using his words, since it’s easier than coming up with my own right now.
“I'm not always an arrogant dick,” Asher says with a naughty hum in his voice, tracing circles on my hip bone with his thumb.
“Every now and then you're not,” I tease. “Will you miss Flip when he’s busy being a dad?” I ask, since that’s got to be on Asher’s mind. I called him the wingman for a reason. That’s what they are to each other.
He chuckles. “You’re so good at switching topics. And to answer your question . . . yes. Everyone’s life is changing,” Asher says, more pensive than usual.
“True, but you’ll still have plenty to keep busy. Work and stuff,” I say, since the man likely has a crazy schedule lined up of sexy photo shoots and glamorous parties when we return to New York and go our separate ways.
“I will, but it doesn’t mean I won’t miss . . . the good times.” He punctuates those last words with a sweep of his lips along my neck.
Exactly.
This is good times.
This is not anything else.
I’d do well to remember that.
And when I run into him in New York?since that’s inevitable?I’ll thank myself for sticking to my own rules.
“The good times have been fun. And soon, it’s back to reality for this, as you’d probably call me, nerdy single dad, ” I say.
His grin stretches to his eyes. “I do call you that affectionately. You’re a good dad, Mark. I admire that,” Asher says.
I shouldn’t need his compliment on my parenting skills, but I like it all the same. “See? Sometimes you’re not an arrogant prick at all,” I say drily, then spread my hand across his abs.
Asher laughs. “As long as it’s only sometimes. You’re impossible to compliment, actually. You hardly ever let down your guard.”
“I know.” I take a beat then say something hard. “Although I do appreciate the kind words.”
He gives me another kiss. Another soft flick of his tongue, and a gentle wave rolls down my body. “You let down your guard in other ways. I don’t have to read you with words.”
Do I truly want to know how he’s reading me? No idea, but mostly, I don’t want him to stop reading me. Or touching me.
At least for today.
This is all I want today.
But all good things come to an end, and soon, the sun is sailing toward the sea.
We roll out of the hammock awkwardly, which is pretty much the only way to exit a hammock—tumbling and bumping into each other.
Once we land in the sand, Asher offers me his hand, and I take it. It’s time to go.