“I’ve never seen you in anything other than dark clothes, or slacks,” I admit.
He looks sinfully hot. The shirt he’s wearing is a white button-down and the jeans look worn and soft, like he wears them often. His hair is disheveled. I’m mesmerized by the look and want to crawl up his body.
“Stop looking at me like that,” he growls, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, “or we’re never leaving this room.”
I blush and giggle, embarrassed I got caught staring at him. His eyes rake down my body, reminding me that I’m naked, and my blush becomes deeper. I reach for the sheet to cover myself, but his words stop me.
“Don’t even think about it.”
I hesitate, but drop the sheet and stand. It’s stupid to be embarrassed anyway. It’s not like he hasn’t seen me naked, or felt every inch of my body. I tremble with the reminder. He’s definitely felt me all over.
With one last smoldering look, he turns to leave the room, but stops with the doorknob in his hand and says over his shoulder, “Wear your cowgirl boots.”
I opt to use his shower instead of mine. It doesn’t take me long. I walk out with a towel wrapped around me and spy Asher in the kitchen, talking on his phone. His eyes land on me as I walk past. I feel his heated gaze all the way to the door. A tiny smile plays on my lips as I close it behind me. I walk over to my suitcase and heft it up on the bed.
I’ve never understood why people put their clothes away in the dressers at hotels, unless it’s a dress or a suit or something that’s easily wrinkled. It just seems pointless to me because you’ll just have to load the suitcase back up in a day or two. Of course, Asher is a man, and a rich one at that, so I’m sure he’ll use every article of clothing he placed in the drawer, so there will be no unloading and reloading his suitcase, except for his used clothes. I, on the other hand, am a woman, and like to always pack more than what I’ll need.
Unsure of where we’re going, I decide on a pair of jean shorts and a cream colored sleeveless silk blouse with a c
ami underneath. After slipping on some socks, I tug on my black cowgirl boots. I pull my hair up into a ponytail and apply some light makeup. At the last minute, I grab the cowboy hat Asher got me yesterday. Picking up my phone and slipping it into my purse, I walk out of my room. Asher is still in the kitchen, sans the phone. He stands from the bar stool when he sees me coming. His eyes light up and it sends flutters through my belly. He pulls me to him and plants a kiss against my lips. I want to linger and never stop kissing him, but he backs away and ushers me to a chair.
“I’ve made you a plate. Eat so we can get going.”
I take a seat and look down at the plate. Everything on here is my favorite.
“Wow! You’re either really good, or you’ve been spying on me. You picked all my favorite breakfast items.
I laugh and look over to him. He has a strange look on his face that I can’t decipher. Before I can question him on it, he turns, walks around the bar, and pours some coffee into a mug. After putting some sugar and creamer in it, he sets it down in front of me and walks back around the bar and takes the stool beside me. He must have seen me make my coffee before in the office because it tastes perfect.
Picking up my fork, I look over and notice he doesn’t have a plate for himself.
“You’re not eating?”
“I ate while you were getting ready,” he says, turning in his seat and propping one arm on the bar and one arm on the back of mine. His knee brushes against my hip.
I spear a chunk of pineapple and bring it to my mouth. I feel his eyes on me.
I shift in my chair. “Are you going to watch me eat?”
“Yes,” he says simply.
Um… okay.
“Why?”
I feel light tugs on my ponytail, indicting he’s playing with it.
“Because I like looking at you. Now eat,” he urges.
I decide to do just that, but feel weird with him staring. My eyes keep flickering over to him, and each time he’s still looking at me.
“So, where are we going?”
“You’ll see,” is all he says.
I feel another tug at my hair and for some reason it relaxes me. I used to love it when people played with my hair. When I was younger and still had friends, they would always choose to play with my hair over playing with the doll’s.
I shovel the rest of my food into my mouth, making Asher laugh beside me. He knows what he’s doing and is enjoying it. I pay him no mind and finish up my coffee. As soon as my fork and napkin hit the plate, he scoops it up and deposits it into the sink.