The Best Men (The Best Men 1)

But Asher's not. “Thank you again, Coco. The cake is great. We’d love a Saturday morning delivery as planned. And now we need to go,” Asher says abruptly. He grabs my hand and tugs me up, and we leave in seconds flat.

“We didn’t get to finish . . . the whole thing,” I point out, but I’m not even sure what I needed to do in there since my mind is filled with rich and creamy thoughts.

“Finish what, Banks? The cake was amazing. Your sister picked it out. And I want to get you the fuck out of here and do bad things to you,” he says on the streets of Miami, teasing at the bottom of my T-shirt, sending a fresh wave of goose bumps down my arms. “You don’t always have to negotiate. Sometimes, it’s quicker if you don’t,” he says, using my words from earlier. “Then, you can just leave, so you can get to the good stuff in life.”

And . . . he has a point. Asher insists on enjoying things, and that’s not a bad way for me to live for the next few days. When I return to New York, I’ll return to my way?complete control.

“What’s the good stuff?” I ask, as his hand curls over my ass as we walk.

This man is into touching me in public, and I like it.

He whispers in my ear. 14C, 17B, 22F. Why the hell do we have to see the officiant now?

Errands hate me.

An hour that lasts a lifetime later, we’re done with the officiant, and I rush down the steps of the office building.

I race to the car, and take the driver’s seat. I will speed home now. I will engage the turbo thrusters or what-the-fuck-ever. I don’t care. “Let’s go,” I call out, since Asher’s ten feet away, and why are his feet made of molasses?

Sauntering, Asher takes his sweet-ass time, then gets in the car like we’re sitting on the porch in the summer, frittering away the day. As he shuts the door, he flashes me a smile. “Got somewhere to be?”

I groan in misery. The sun is dipping on the horizon, and I want to return to the mansion and get naked with him. Screw, and then order dinner, and screw, and then swim, and screw. “Yes. In bed. With you. Now.”

I enter the address, hit go on Waze, then pull away from the curb.

A block later, Asher gestures lazily to a side street. “Take a right.”

I point at the concrete ribbon in front of us. “Dude. That’s wrong. The GPS says go straight.”

“Just turn right.”

“No, that’s not the most direct route.” I’m horny as fuck, and it’s all his fault.

“Trust me. I’m not wrong about this.”

I huff out a breath. “You are.”

He drapes an arm around my shoulder, squeezes. “If you know what’s good for you, turn here.”

“This is not good for me,” I grit out, but I listen.

“It is, Banks. It is.”

I turn, and he points to . . . a freaking CVS.

Flicking the signal, I pull into the lot. “Seriously? Do you need shampoo? Shaving cream? Deodorant? Is that what can’t wait?”

His lips curve into the smirkiest smirk of all time. “And to think I was going to tell you. Not sure I will now.”

When I park, he gets out of the car, tips his forehead to the pharmacy. I follow him, because of course I do. He’s where I want to be.

Asher strides through the air-conditioned store with purpose. He does everything with purpose, and he’s hell-bent on passing the gum aisle, the aspirin row, the lotion shelves. Till he turns down . . . oh . . .

Oh, yes.

This is the best errand of my life.

Asher doesn’t even look at me. Just swaggers down the aisle to the condom display. When he stops and reaches for a box, all the air evacuates my lungs as reality hits me squarely in the chest.

I’m going to have sex with a hot man.

This hot man.

I don’t know if we’ll do it tonight. Or tomorrow. Or the next night. But it’s happening. It is on. I can barely breathe, I want it so badly.

Want him so badly.

My face goes up in flames as I stop next to him, catch a faint hint of that rainfall and summer breeze smell. What does he smell like when he’s fucking?

Don’t know, but I’m going to find out.

I nearly sway. I may topple over from desire and turn into a puddle on the floor of CVS.

He turns to me, steps closer, brushes his jaw along mine, dips his mouth to my ear. “Like my errand now, Banks?”

My bones melt. “Uh-huh.”

As he pulls back, he locks eyes with me. His flash with dirty deeds. “Some of your list items require lube.”

I say nothing because if I tried to speak, all I would do is croak.