He claps a hand on my shoulder as we walk past the pool, toward the house. “Nearly all. And they’re all in the I was right column,” he says, clearly delighted to poke and prod me again. But admittedly, I like our new style of poking and prodding, since it involves the use of body parts. “But there is one more little thing I wanted to address, since we sorted out the blow job hair and the stupidly hot lips last night.” He draws a deep inhale. “You referred to me as, and I quote . . .like a fucking comic book hero in those graphic novels I used to read.”
I don’t bat an eye. “Yes, Asher?”
He taps his chest. “If I’m Superhot Wingman, what’s your superhero name?”
I stifle a laugh. “And why do you think I have one?”
“You do, Banks, you do. Do you want me to play dirty to get it out of you?”
Playing dirty sounds like a great game. “I mean, if you think that’ll work,” I deadpan.
I bet it works. I bet it works so well.
Asher stops at the sliding door, grabs the back of my neck, and plants a scorching-hot kiss on my lips. Jesus. This man can kiss. When he breaks it, his lips are inches from mine, and he drags a thumb along my jaw. “Soooo.”
My head is a daze. “Captain Filthy Mind,” I mutter, since his kisses are my truth serum.
Asher laughs, and even his laugh makes it sound as if he’s just had sex. “Perfect. So fucking perfect.” As we resume our pace, he says breezily, “And by the way, for a split-second yesterday when I mentioned we’d hit errand 2A, I thought tasks got you all hot and bothered, but then I realized 2A wasn’t an errand. It was . . . me. And now that I’ve seen the world’s greatest list, I can confirm 2A was you putting your mouth all over me.”
Oh, he’s good.
Then Asher adds, “For the record, 2A was excellent.”
His eyes flicker with that big charm the man breaks out anywhere and everywhere, using it on the designer, the gate agent, the florist.
And on me.
I kind of wish I were immune, but his charm is coming at me full throttle now. I simply nod my thanks as I try to fight off a smile, so he doesn’t know what his compliment just did to my stomach?made it flip.
“What are you smiling about, Captain Filthy Mind?” he asks, as we near the front door of the palace.
“Lunch. You know, Cubanos and all,” I say, offhand. “Just thinking about Cubanos.”
“Yes, same for me,” he says, then he stops me in the doorway and kisses the corner of my mouth. “Sandwiches,” he repeats, and it sounds like he’s keeping my secret. That he knows I wasn’t thinking about ham and cheese.
I have a secret about him too.
Asher really likes kissing me.
When we reach the car, he smacks my ass. But before he gets in the driver’s seat, he says, “Wait.” Then he grabs the waistband of my shorts, tugs it back, and peeks. “Mmm. Purple.”
A tingle rushes down my spine. “Guess you like some of my clothes.”
“Seems I do.”
But we aren't talking about clothes anymore.
20
I’M A FAN OF EGGPLANTS
ASHER
I’ve always understood that a match can hinge on one single play. One well-placed feint or one perfect kick can change everything.
So I shouldn’t be too surprised by how much has changed between Mark and me in the past twenty-four hours.
Still, it’s hard to reconcile yesterday’s tensions with the mood in the convertible as I cross the causeway toward the city. Mark whistles to himself as he takes in the scenery. He looks like a new man.
I take a subtle glance at him, and I swear he looks more relaxed than I’ve ever seen him. I’ll take the responsibility for that, thank you very much.
“Stop,” he says without turning his head.
“Stop what?”
“Stop sneaking glances at me. Keep your eyes on the road, St. James. You can admire me later.”
Maybe subtlety is overrated. Instead, I plant a hand on his muscular knee and stroke it. The crisp hair feels good under my hand. “It’s going to be a long day,” I murmur, keeping my eyes on the road as instructed.
“It will be if you keep doing that.”
I let my fingers inch up his thigh.
“Asher,” he groans.
With a quick, cocky smile, I release him. My phone is trilling, and it’s Lucy’s ringtone. “Mind if I answer that?”
“Let me help,” Mark says, and then he hits a button on the console to bring the call in through Bluetooth.
“Thanks. Hi Lucy. You’re on speaker.”
“Asher, I’m calling to tell you that you have an appointment with the caterer in twelve minutes.”
“Right,” I say heavily. “Thanks for that timely update.”
“There is no need for snark,” she says crisply. “You rarely make appointments this early in the day, so I didn’t check.”