I swallow a lump and try to keep my mouth from falling. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize…”
“Don’t worry. I don’t mind.”
“But I do. I assumed you liked being a bachelor, that you liked having a different woman every night.” I pause before making my declaration. “You wanted more in life.”
Asher leans back and laughs, his hand winding behind his head as he rubs his neck, his eyes darting around the table. “I think you’ve misunderstood. I quite enjoy the women I have in my bed.”
My head tilts to the side as I continue to look at him. As his hand returns around the front of his body, Asher lifts his head and his eyes meet mine. His cavalier grin melts as his eyes take in mine. His forehead crinkles.
Asher is avoiding my observation and he knows I know it.
He looks at me as if conflicted about responding. “My grandfather pushed the thoughts of settling down out of my head. Said it causes more heartache and distraction than it’s worth. He should know. He lost a daughter and took in her kid.” His gaze drops to the table. “The truth is, growing up without a family makes me want one even more.” There is a pause before he adds, “I’ve never said that out loud before.”
Tears well up in my eyes. What kind of life is that to live? When Asher said he wanted to be friends, I thought his tale of not being able to trust anyone was some sort of ploy. Now I see it’s merely the truth. Can it be possible the sinful Asher who feasts on Twinkies is really a romantic deep down? Can I have been so utterly wrong about this man? Have I been wrong about… everything?
Asher slowly leans across the table and gently cups my face, wiping my check with his thumb, catching a stray tear. “No, please, don’t cry. Not for me. I don’t deserve tears.” My breath hitches at his touch. His hand is so warm and comforting. My head falls slightly into his palm.
His eyes are sincere and I bite back the sting of my tears to show him I’m okay. “You are a great man. You deserve so much more than you’re allowing yourself.” I mean it. Getting to know him over the past few weeks has been a pleasure. He may be inappropriate at times and even bossy. God, he can be downright pompous. Yet, he is without a doubt the most amazingly contradictory person I have ever known.
“I have done some bad things over the years. In life, in business, and to women. Especially to women. They’re my toys. They use me and I use them. I like my lifestyle. I don’t have to answer to anyone, and at this stage, I’ve grown accustomed to doing whatever the hell I want.”
Asher releases my face from his grasp as I wipe the dew from my eyes. I can’t make him out. He is damaged, but not irreparable. Why does he continue his cavalier lifestyle when he can have so much more?
“You need a shot!” Asher motions for the waiter. “Tequila, por favor!”
“Oh no! I haven’t had tequila since college!”
“Oh, how I would have loved to have known you at eighteen.”
Letting out a slight laugh, I release a deep breath and shake my head. “I’m sure you would.” There’s the Asher I know so well.
The waiter brings back three shots of tequila… each. I explain to Asher that this is way too much alcohol, but he assures me this is top-grade liquor and I can handle it.
“Lick your hand,” he directs me.
I scrunch up my nose at the thought but shrug my shoulders and figure I’ll give it a shot, pun intended. Tentatively at first, I poke my tongue out and touch the back of my hand.
Asher raises his hand to his mouth and glides his smooth, slick tongue across the back like he’s licking up ice cream. My lips part with a breath. I lift my hand back to my lips and try again, this time sliding my tongue across my soft skin, and look up to see Asher’s eyes as they follow my tongue as it glides across my hand.
Asher lifts the saltshaker and sprinkles our hands. “Lick, sip, and squeeze.” He offers me a lime. “Ready?”
I nod. Here goes. I lick my hand, gulp the shot of tequila, and squeeze the lime into my mouth. Wow, that burns!
“Feels good,” he says and pushes the next shot of tequila in front of me, and we repeat the process.
We share a few good laughs, talking about some of our worst drinking experiences. My head feels lighter, and I start to sing along to one of the songs playing over the loudspeaker. It’s a popular dance tune that has been remixed to a lowdown beat, more laidback for our setting. Something I learned from Asher.
After the third shot, I feel like dancing. “Dance with me.” My voice sounds impish and naughty, which makes me laugh because I am neither of those things.
Asher grabs my hand and we stand, still inside the secluded cabana. Our bodies close, he wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me in tighter. My breasts rest on his chest; our groins connect. Not being the best dancer, I allow him to lead the way.
I’ve danced with him without music before. He was magnificent then and even better now. The freeing feeling I have from the little bit of alcohol I’ve drank allows me to move along with him, and I feel comfortable, even confident in my movements. Our hips bound together sway from left to right and around in tiny circles.
Asher traipses his hand until it’s firm on my lower back, causing my upper body to arch. He dips me and places his other hand on my chest and lets it travel down my body, from clavicle to navel. As he returns me, my body inches up in one smooth movement until I’m resting back on his chest. My eyes widen when I feel his arousal through his bathing suit. My pulse quickens. My ears burn with heat and energy. And my body is awakened.
Placing his hands on my hips, Asher spins me, facing away from him. His palms rest low on my belly and heat stirs within me, low in my sex. His arousal pressing hard against my backside, I lay my hands over his as I feel my own throbbing deep in my core.
I rest the back of my head against his chest. We continue to move with each other, our hips now dipping into each other in deep, erotic sways. His mouth at my ear, I can feel hot, moist, erratic breaths against my neck. His lips lower to my skin, this time taking my neck in his mouth with warm, wet kisses. Tingles travel down my skin. The hairs on the back of my neck stand and my nipples erect, pleading, wanting, and needing. My breath hitches and I drink in every sensation his luscious mouth gives me as he devours my skin.
With my hands still over his, I lower them, guiding him lower down my body, pleading for him to touch me.
Asher twists his hands in mine and grabs them to spin me back around. He is breathing hard and his face is flush. “I’m taking you to your room,” he whispers.
The walk to the room is faster than I thought it would be. My head spins a little. I think I fumble a few times on our way back. I drop my bag as I try to gather my room key. Asher takes my bag out of my hand and removes the key to open the door.
Before I can move my feet, he bends down and lifts me off the ground. We enter the room and he kicks the door closed behind him. The room is dark, but the moonlight illuminates the space. Asher places me on the ground beside the bed and walks over to the chest of drawers and removes something.
“Lift your arms.” His voice is sultry.
I comply as he removes my cover-up. I feel bashful in my bikini. Even though I just shared the most erotic dance of my life with him and felt his lips on the skin of my neck, it feels entirely too sinful in the confinement of my hotel room.
“Again,” he commands, and I lift my arms again as he places the nightie over my head and it falls down my body. Spinning me around, Asher undoes the strings of my bikini top and they fall to the floor. He removes my hair tie and my hair tumbles past my shoulders.
Asher leans over the bed and pulls back the blankets. He lifts me in his arms again and lays me gently onto the bed. Tucking the blankets over me, he leans down and places a gentle kiss on my forehead.
“Good night, Gray,” he says.
Backing away from the bed, Asher turns and walks out the door. It takes me a few moments to get my bearings.