Wild Hyacinthe (Crimson Romance) (9 page)

I reached up and slid my palm along the stubble of his chin. How isolating it must be, to have so much money and never be able to trust that anyone wants you for
you.
“And now there’s a homeless girl on your couch.”

He frowned, surprised. “A homeless girl who has been stubbornly refusing my advances,” he reminded me.

My heart pounded. Refusing his advances. So he really
did
want me. “I didn’t want you to think I was after your money. And I don’t know, I don’t exactly roll in your circle.”

“I don’t have a circle,” he snapped with a hint of bitterness. “What circle do you roll in?”

I snorted. “Uh . . . the circle of homeless people who park in campsites and hit deer while daydreaming about hot men whose advances they’re trying to stubbornly refuse?”

Asher blinked, and then it was his turn to burst into laughter. “You can’t expect me to believe you hit the damn deer because you were distracted by
me.
”

I summoned courage from that burn between my legs that Asher was making worse with each of his warm breaths washing over my skin. “I hit the damn deer while distracted by thoughts about you
naked.
”

His eyes widened with shock, and I was sure mine did, too. Did I just say that? “I’m sorry,” I said. “I seriously have no edit button between what I think and what I say.”

Asher broke into a grin so bright it was as if the sun were streaming across the couch. “Well, I’m thrilled for that. No one else gives it to me straight except Gypsy.”

Oh. I never thought of my careless mouth as a good thing. But I supposed to a man who had everyone trying to please him all the time, it might be a refreshing change of pace.

Asher Chain really liked me. I could hardly believe it, and my heart pounded harder.

“I want to kiss you right now,” he said.

“Then kiss me.” How I wanted it, too.

He pulled an inch away. “Nope. I’m going to make the best impression on you I can, and right now I’ve got killer morning breath.”

Ha! I smirked at him. I wasn’t the only one without an edit button. “I didn’t notice.”

He slid away and stretched once he was on his feet, and I couldn’t help but gape, slack-jawed, at the morning hard-on protruding through his pants as he strolled to the bathroom. Holy. Fuck.

“Make yourself at home,” he called over his shoulder, ruffling his short hair with one hand.

As soon as the door to the bathroom clicked closed, I scrambled to my purse, dug out my toothbrush, and cleaned up over the kitchen sink. The cool water couldn’t subdue my screaming desire as I heard him start the shower. I admired the spacious kitchen, the black marble countertops.

His whole lifestyle screamed elegance and class, with a darker edge to it—the Lamborghini, the black décor in an otherwise white space, and his bizarre tattoo. Even the stainless steel fixtures in the bathroom highlighted his masculinity, and I struggled not to picture him washing in the shower. Shirtless. I knew what he looked like in all his bare-muscled glory I’d seen so many times on the covers of fitness magazines in convenience stores, grinning with his knuckles wrapped in boxing tape, sunglasses on his face. To feel the archetypal man in the flesh, slick and hot from the shower . . . I pressed my lips together to stifle a sigh of desire. He
wanted
me.

Coffee. I needed to make coffee. I flicked through cabinets until I found the filters and beans, ground them up and got it started.

As the coffee maker trickled into the pot, I drummed my fingertips on the counter. He might want me now, but he’d offered his couch to me out of pity when he learned I had no place to call home. I couldn’t let myself think he wanted more than to do the right thing, with me. He was just that good of a guy, I figured: willing to offer up his space to someone who needed it.

Such a total, complete package of a man. His masculinity was natural, not forced; a part of who he was, rather than a mask he wore to attract women. Nothing like the herds of testosterone in the bars.

The shower shut off and I jumped, finding coffee cups and the cream from the fridge. I poured a coffee for each of us, mixed his the way he liked, and met him as he came out of the bathroom with a steaming cup in my hand.

He emerged in nothing but a towel, his shoulders—
his fucking huge shoulders!—
still glistening with moisture from the shower, the aroma of his body wash filling my nostrils as I took in the perfection of his form. I let my gaze wander down his full eight-pack of abs, and then I saw his massive erection protruding against the fabric tied around his waist, and I gasped and dropped his coffee on the floor.

Asher stepped back, too, surprised.

I clapped my hands over my mouth. “I’m so sorry!” I glanced about for a towel, but Asher retrieved one from the bathroom and bent to clean up the mess. “No, let me do it. I’m so sorry.”

He laughed as he helped me sop up the coffee, snatching up pieces of broken ceramic before I could reach for them. “It’s okay, it’s just coffee.”

“Expensive coffee, on an expensive floor with your expensive towel.” God, I was an idiot.

He touched my chin, wordlessly asking me to meet his eyes. His expression showed sincerity and a hint of apology of his own. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I meant to get dressed before you noticed.”

“No, I . . .” I trailed off. What could I say: I’m just not used to giant dicks in expensive towels on perfect men because I’m totally pathetic? Not likely to get me a positive reaction. “Isn’t that morning condition supposed to go away after a while?”

He laughed: a boyish, carefree sound that was so infectious I smiled too. “Yeah,” he said, “morning wood goes away. If the cause of the wood is actually
morning.
If I’ve got a boner because there’s a sexy woman bringing me coffee in my apartment wearing nothing but my shirt and her panties, it’s not going to disappear just like that.” He snapped his fingers.

I stared at him for a moment, and then finished mopping up the coffee. Asher took the towel to the hamper and then sat at one of the barstools while I poured him a fresh cup.

He sipped his coffee, admiring me from head to toe. Did he want me to make a move? I couldn’t tell. I didn’t know what to try, or how to even start something like this. The desire inside me was undeniable, but I didn’t know how to act on it, and I wanted him more with every moment he stared at me, hunger in his eyes.

“Okay,” I said. “I think I’m getting my signals crossed. I should go.”

“Go?” he frowned as he took another pull off his steaming mug. “No, don’t go.”

“I gotta get to the Lacy Teacup and see if I still have a job, and then I need to ask the manager to cash out my tips so I can go get some clothes.” I glanced down at my half-naked body, dismayed. All my lace shirts were gone.

“Why do you need to do that?”

“Um . . . all my clothes were in the Camry.”

“No, I know you need clothes, but . . .” he ran a hand through his hair, agitation emerging from beneath his naturally cool and sexy exterior. “Can I drive you to get some clothes? I don’t want you taking a cab.”

No, I need to get the hell away from you before I make an even bigger idiot of myself.
“Sure, that sounds wonderful.” Asher was sweeping away my logic and rationale with every moment I spent with him. I needed to get going, to get working and back on track so I could travel. His total sexiness wasn’t helping my motivation. “Can you drop me at the Best Western after Walmart?”

He squinted, confused. “Now I think I’m the one getting my signals crossed.”

What? “How so?”

He cleared his throat and tested the temperature of his coffee with his finger, as he’d done before at the Lacy Teacup, an adorable habit. “Didn’t I make myself clear? You should stay here until you have a place. I can take the couch and you can have the bed, if it’s more comfortable. I get that I didn’t make the best impression here, but I wasn’t trying to pressure you or anything.”

Pressure me? Oh, the boner. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Asher. Just try to understand: every girl wants to spend time with a man like you, so it’s a bit too-good-to-be-true, you know?”

“I don’t expect anything from you in return if that’s what you’re thinking,” he said. He glanced down at his groin, where his towel was still tented up to a ridiculous proportion. “
That
doesn’t mean you’re obligated to me at all for my kindness. I won’t push you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

A blush rose in my cheeks, and my voice came out in a whispered rush. “How could I not want to?”

“What?”

I averted my eyes, hiding a grin. “Nothing.”

Asher let out a low chuckle and leaned closer. He kissed my shoulder, his lips parted a little bit as he tasted my skin. “So, just to be clear, you
don’t
want to.”

Be cool, Aria.
“Want to what?”

He rose from his seat and lingered behind my barstool for a moment, and then slid his hands along my thighs, squeezing. My breath stopped as he lowered his mouth to the crook of my neck and kissed me, open and long, his tongue sliding over my flesh. I let out a whimper.

“Nothing,” he whispered, a joke in his tone.

I couldn’t deny the fire between my legs anymore, which sparked courage within me once again. I reached back and found the edge of Asher’s towel, pulled it aside and wrapped my fingers around his erection.

He exhaled sharply as I squeezed. Holy shit! That was supposed to go . . . in my . . . holy shit. I stroked him once with uncertain fingers, and he moved his mouth up to my ear.

“Tighter,” he ordered, his mouth hot and urgent.

I gasped and tightened my grip around his shaft, and he groaned. His fingers dug into my thighs, electrifying the arousal in my body, so hot I felt it in my eyes. I pressed my legs together, stroking him harder, as his heart pounded against my shoulder.

“Enough,” he said, but he didn’t pull away. I rolled my thumb over the tip of his length, feeling a bead of slick moisture there, and then resumed my stroking motion.

I craned to meet his lips. “I want to.”

He devoured me with a kiss, his tongue driving into my mouth with need and abandon. He squeezed his eyes closed, his expression one of pleasure blurred with restraint, and I quickened my pace of massaging him while he kissed me.

“Enough!” Asher growled, shoving away from me so abruptly I jumped with surprise, my heart crashing in my chest as he broke contact with me. He straightened his towel and paced around to the other side of the breakfast bar where he leaned on the marble with both hands, panting, his muscles pumped as he caught his breath.

I waited for him to speak, but he didn’t. “What did I do wrong?” I sounded pathetic and clueless—both facts about me I wanted to hide from him.

“Nothing. Give me a moment.”

I waited, desperate need mingling with anxiety in my heart. Why wouldn’t he tell me what I did wrong?

After minutes that felt like eternity passed, he straightened and grinned with that familiar glint of humility in his eyes. “Let’s wait, for now.”

“And you wonder why I’m getting mixed signals?” I scoffed. “Dammit!”

“Don’t be angry! I just don’t want you doing this because you feel like you owe it to me.”

I glared at him, trying to stay angry but failing as his words touched me. Playfulness tugged on the edges of my lips. “Asher Chain, look at yourself! How could I do this out of anything
but
desire? You look like Hercules.”

His eyes widened at my forcefulness. “You want to screw Hercules?”

“Yes, I want to screw a god. Can you blame me?” I gestured to his perfect torso.

He raised an eyebrow. “Hercules was a demi-god.”

“Stop distracting me,” I said. I shoved the coffees aside, ignoring the spill this time. I climbed across the counter and dove onto Asher with a kiss, throwing my arms around his neck, pressing against his firm, hot chest. Yes, I wanted to fuck him. So badly I could barely think beyond the burn in my body.

He reciprocated the kiss with urgency, his hands on my back, my hips.
Don’t stop, please, don’t stop.
His touch was everything I wanted and never dared to want, all at once.

“Wait, wait,” he protested, breaking the connection.

“Why?” I smacked his chest a little harder than I meant to. “You want me, right?” I glanced at his erection again, and he groaned.

“Yes, I want you.” He kissed my forehead, taking my face between his hands. “But I want to wait. To savor this. I don’t let women sleep in my home, nor do I indulge anything more than a one-night-stand, so this is new territory for me. Let me enjoy these moments leading up to it, you know? I promise I’ll be worth the wait.”

I groaned and rested my cheek on his shoulder, my pulse slamming through my body, demanding more from him than he was willing to give. What the hell was wrong with me? I drew in his scent at the base of his throat and my urge swelled even more. “Dammit, Asher, I’m all worked up here with no release.”

He froze for a moment, and then bent to look into my eyes. “Have release,” he whispered.

What? Here?

He took my hand in his and pressed my fingertips against my brightly colored panties. “Have release,” he said again.

I hesitated. Really? He pressed on my fingers and I let out a moan, the pressure sending pleasure surging through me in just the right place. He kissed my neck again and wrapped his arm around my middle to steady me, moving my hand across my warmth with his own.

Oh, God, how it felt. I moved my fingers on my own, sliding them over my clitoris through the rough lace of my panties. Asher hummed with approval and kept his hand over mine, feeling my motions, pressing closer to me, and it was so intimate I turned my head and took his kisses, each one more urgent as I rubbed myself harder.

He pulled me tight against him so I could lean on him for support, my motions automatic on myself, his erection digging into my thigh. I let out a moan so loud I stopped and sucked in a gasp, embarrassed. The blood drained from my face.

“No, don’t stop,” Asher begged, desperation in his voice. “Please.” He took control of my hand again; slipping both our hands beneath my panties and helping me rub my clitoris harder. He guided my hand to moisten my fingertips lower, inside, before pulling me back up to circle against the sensitive bud. I leaned harder on him, the loss of control over the situation urging me on, and within moments I’d stopped moving altogether, letting him do it for me.