That broke her from her reverie. Greer’s mouth twisted into a half smile. “You need to do better than that. You have to make this believable, Ash.”
Asher looked surprised at her response. “You are beautiful. Your skin is like . . .” He paused, studying her and thinking.
“Like . . . coffee?” she chimed in. “Chocolate and cream? Do you know how insulting it is to refer to someone as a food? Shall I say that you look like a nice bowl of tapioca yourself?”
“Well, I was going to say your skin is like silk.”
Oh.
“But I can go with something else, if you’d prefer.” He picked up one of the printouts with a flourish, studied it, and then turned back to her. “Greer, my sweet darling, your face is as lovely as a blooming rose.”
She snort-giggled. “The page says that?”
“Nah. It just says to woo her with words.” He crumpled up the paper and tossed the ball of it over his shoulder. “Why don’t you think you’re beautiful?”
Why were they going back to this? “Does it matter?”
“It matters to me.”
Greer sighed. “I’m a small, dark, half-Indian woman. I grew up in my father’s household. Have you ever noticed that every woman in his magazine—with a few rare exceptions—is tall and blonde? Big hair, big breasts, big hips? I have none of those things. I’m quiet and I’m short and I have to wear these.” She gestured at her glasses. “No one ever notices me. Why should I think I’m beautiful?”
“I think you’re beautiful.”
“Oh, please. You’re the one I tried to get to notice me for the longest time, and you never did. Your words hold no weight now.” Not now that he’d hurt her and left her pregnant with his baby.
He looked surprised. “You did? When I was with Donna?”
“I wouldn’t break up a relationship. But after that, yes. But you were too drunk to ever see me.” She shrugged, wishing the words didn’t still cut like a knife. “Until I threw myself at you and then you just nailed me and left me pregnant. By the way, thanks for that.”
He rubbed a hand down his face. “Every day I learn a new, unpleasant thing about myself, it seems.” He looked . . . sad.
That bothered her, and it shouldn’t have. She didn’t want to make him sad. She just wanted them to be done with each other. “Can we please just kiss now?”
Asher’s smile returned. “Didn’t realize you were so eager, Greer.”
“I’m not!”
“Really? You just demanded that I kiss you.” He slid a bit closer to her on the couch, so close that her legs were practically in his lap. “Allow me to oblige.”
She closed her eyes and braced herself, waiting for the onslaught of tongue. She could get through this. Lots of people kissed every day. She’d just have to be patient until he got better.
His amused chuckle broke through her thoughts. “You’re bracing yourself as if I’m about to power wash your mouth with my tongue.”
“Aren’t you?” she retorted, opening her eyes. “That’s what I seem to recall from last time.”
He threw his head back and laughed, collapsing backward on the couch. “Damn. My ego is completely shredded around you, Greer.” He clasped his hands to his breast, as if shielding his heart. “You never go easy on a guy.”
A smile twitched at the corners of her mouth, but she refused to let it grow. “Should I? I’m just being honest. It really was not good, Asher. Though maybe I should have told you that you were incredible so I wouldn’t be stuck here tonight.”
His laughter sobered and he gave her a warm look. “I’m glad you’re here tonight.”
She said nothing, just hugged the pillow tighter. When they were like this? Oh god, she could see falling in love with him all over again. The laughter, the teasing, the simple joy of being in his presence? Of seeing that gorgeous smile beaming down on her? It was easy to forget that he’d shattered all of her dreams such a short time ago.
But everything was different now, and she needed to remember that. “Can we just do this, please? It’s been a very long day and being pregnant makes me tired.”
“Of course you’re tired. Here, you get comfortable on the couch and we’ll approach this in a different way.” Asher leaped up and moved across the room, heading for the TV. He picked up the remote and started to flick through to the movie rentals. “Do you know of any good movies that feature a lot of kissing? Maybe for tonight we could just watch it on the screen instead, and slowly move into the real thing.”
Oh goodness, that sounded so much better. “Kissing movies?”
“Yeah. Nothing porny, because that won’t show me how to kiss properly. Just normal sorts of movies where normal people kiss the women they love.”
“And you expect me to know of one?” She teased, but oh gosh, she had a dozen. When Harry Met Sally, Dirty Dancing, Romeo and Juliet, Love Actually, Pretty Woman . . .
“You’re the romantic.”
She was. “How about Ghost? Have you seen that one?”
He typed in the letters and then pulled it up on the rental screen. “With Patrick Swayze?”
“That’s the one.”
“Haven’t seen it.” He clicked the button and returned to the couch. “Rented it, though.”
To give the man credit, he didn’t mock her for her choice in movies. He must have remembered that she was a hopeless romantic, though she did her best to keep it a secret.
“You want a snack or a drink? I think the fridge has some cookies and bottled water, or we can order something.”
“Cookies and bottled water is fine,” she said, giving him a grateful smile. Tonight had turned out to be a lot less painful than she’d envisioned. She’d been imagining letting him maul her for hours on end and in actuality, they’d talked and now were going to watch a movie. No kissing.
She was oddly relieved and yet strangely disappointed at the same time.
He returned with an enormous oversized cookie for her and a bottle of water, and then sat down in the center of the sofa. Instead of giving her space, he put his arms around her and hauled her against him, as if it were a date and they were snuggling.
And she was going to protest, but his body was warm and she was sleepy and the movie was starting. So she ate her cookie, drank some water, and let the story carry her away.
Greer was almost nodding off into sleep—more tired than she’d expected—when a soft brush of something against the back of her hand woke her up. She opened her eyes sleepily and realized that Asher had her hand in his, and he was gently kissing the back of her hand.
“Wha . . . what are you doing?”
“Just practicing. Your sheets said I should practice on my hand.” His lips brushed against the back of her hand again and goose bumps prickled over her body. Her nipples were hard and aching, and terrible, distracting urges were moving through her.
“You’re supposed to practice on your own hand,” she whispered, watching breathlessly as he moved his mouth in a kiss against her hand again. Goodness, she should not be that turned on by watching a man pretend-kiss her hand.
He glanced down at her, a roguish look on his face. “I like yours better. You don’t mind, do you?”
Did she mind? God, no. She watched him press another sultry kiss to the back of her hand and her entire body prickled with awareness again. It had to be the pregnancy hormones that were making her that aroused. Had to be.
“Watch the movie,” he told her, and then brushed his lips against her hand again. “I’m getting some great pointers.”
He expected her to concentrate on the movie when he was making out with her hand? She turned back to the screen and settled in against him again, trying to ignore the fact that her nipples—and her sex—responded each time he pressed a kiss against her skin. And when he stopped?
That bothered her almost as
much.
***
A weird sort of possessive pleasure took over Asher as Greer drifted off to sleep against him again. He gently lay her hand down and let the droning of the movie lull her deeper into sleep, though he hadn’t been paying a bit of attention to it. He’d just wanted to distract her, to get her to relax.
It had worked, too. She’d entered his hotel room looking as if she were about to go into a war zone. Now? She was curled up peacefully against him, sleeping, her hand still twined with his. Having her there against him gave him a fierce sort of satisfaction. Like she’d finally found the spot where she belonged. He wanted to reach out and touch the fine lines of her sleeping face, but her words about exhaustion made him hold back.
He’d be content just to have her rest against him. He didn’t need more than that.
Well, his cock did. It ached and strained in his pants, insistent that he should claim Greer as his own. Asher ignored it, though. He knew that if he had a shot in hell of winning Greer back over, he’d have to go slowly and give her control.
He could be patient. It might take every ounce of his self-control, but he’d do it.
***
The next night, Greer seemed less edgy when she arrived at his hotel room. Her hair was pulled back into a fat knot at the base of her neck, and it made her glasses seem huge on her pointed face. She wore a plain red blouse with short sleeves and a high neck, and a pair of skinny jeans and her favorite flats. He loved that she didn’t care how short it made her look—it was clear that she dressed for her own pleasure and not for his. Something about that confidence just made him that much crazier for her.
“You look great today,” he told her. She really did. That red made her lips look like cherries ready to be tasted, and when she moved, he could see her breasts sway under the thin fabric. So, yeah, he was digging it.
She waved a hand at him, dismissing his compliment. “You don’t have to suck up to me. I’m stuck here whether I want to be here or not.”
Ego on the floor once more. Chuckling, Asher shut the door behind her.
“Did you read the notes I printed for you?” she asked, setting her purse down and moving into the living room.
“I studied them all last night,” he told her. He might have also jerked off while imagining Greer’s mouth moving over his cock, but he was a guy, not a saint.
“Great! So then if you’ve got them down, this shouldn’t be too onerous.” She actually looked pleased. “Maybe we can get this done quickly and I can go back to the castle. I’ve still got several calls I need to make.”
Get it over with quickly? Over his dead body. “Don’t get too carried away. Like I said, I’m probably going to need a fair amount of practice.”
“Yes, but you’ve been educating yourself. That should go a long way.” She looked entirely too pleased as she gestured to the couch. “Should I sit again?”
“Please do.”
She moved to the couch and sat delicately on the edge, then crossed her feet and clasped her hands and looked expectantly at him.
The urge to push her down on the couch and cover her body with his was nearly overwhelming. Down, boy. “You should take off your glasses so we don’t smudge them.” Because I fully intend on kissing that patient look off your face. That, and I don’t want you to notice the massive hard-on I’m sporting simply by being in your presence.
“Good idea.” She folded her glasses and set them on the end table as he took the opportunity to move next to her. When she squinted at him, he wanted to grin. Why was it adorable that she was as blind as a bat?
“You ready?” he asked.
“Lay one on me,” she said cheerfully. And then she braced herself.
The woman really did clobber his ego every chance she got. Time to show her that he wasn’t as incompetent as she assumed. He put his hands on her waist and pulled her closer. She stiffened, but relaxed when he didn’t attack her. Nor did she position herself as if she was waiting for his kiss. She just looked up at him, a little impatient.
“I read we should probably both tilt our heads,” he told her. “The angle helps things.”
“Oh, okay.” She tilted her head a little and pushed her chin out toward him. “How’s this?”
Damn, she was cute. Asher leaned in and put his fingers to her chin, coaxing her form to the perfect angle for his mouth. This close, he loved looking at her. The deep red of her mouth was inviting, her lips full and lush. Her eyes closed as he approached, and her long lashes looked like they’d been dusted with dark feathers. How had he never noticed Greer before? He couldn’t stop staring at her now. Hell, he felt like he could gaze happily for hours at the sharp line of her cheekbone or the way her face formed a perfect heart when her hair was pulled back like it was today.
“Are you going to kiss me or do you have buyer’s remorse?” she murmured, eyes still closed.
“Just working on my plan of attack,” he told her. “Be patient.”
One eyebrow raised, and he wanted to kiss it. Actually, that was what he decided to do. Leaning in, he brushed his lips over her brow in a gentle kiss.
She jerked backward, her eyes going wide. “What was that?”
“A kiss?”
Greer looked adorably flustered and so confused. “I thought . . . we were going to practice, you know, on the mouth. That’s the part you were bad at.” She was breathing heavy, her breasts rising and falling in that silky top. Great, now he was imagining her dark nipples again. Fuuuck.
“I figured I should cover all the bases. You know, all kinds of kissing.” And here you said I wasn’t any good at foreplay. How he managed to keep a straight face, he didn’t know. “We’ve still got three days left in the week to conquer the rest of kissing.”
“Oh.” Her voice was soft. “Well, all right.” She licked her lips—god, those lips—and then moved closer to him again.
“I’ll need you to stay still,” he chided her. “Unless I do something wrong, and then if I do, you need to tell me that you didn’t like it, all right?”
She nodded slowly. “I will.” Her eyes closed again.
Asher wondered if she’d hit him if he pulled her against him and buried his face in her gorgeous, high breasts. Probably. It’d probably be worth the hit, too. But he restrained himself and cradled her smaller form against him, intent on his original plan. He leaned in and kissed her brow again, and noticed that a tremor shot through her. Trembling with . . . desire? Fear? “You okay?”
She nodded again, silent.
“You should probably put your arms on me somewhere. If we were dating, you’d probably want to touch me.”
Her eyes snapped open at that. “We’re not dating and maybe I don’t want to touch you.”
“Maybe I’m not the only one who needs to work on my love words.”
Her cheeks flushed and she slapped a hand on his bicep. “Happy?”
“Thrilled.” Asher leaned in again. She shivered as he leaned in close, and his dick got incredibly hard. Goddamn. She was reacting to him, wasn’t she? He pressed a kiss on her other eyebrow and then pulled back. Her nipples were hard against the thin fabric of her shirt, and he had to bite back a groan. Fuck. This was going to be pure torture. “That okay?” His voice sounded ragged even to his own ears.
She gave him a quick nod and tilted her head back, waiting patiently for more kisses. Her hand on his bicep had curled into the fabric of his shirt, as if she had to hold on to him. He loved that.
Asher leaned in and put his hand to her chin, tilting her face as he gently kissed her cheekbones, her nose, her forehead, her jaw—everywhere on her face that he thought she might like a kiss. She didn’t pull away. If anything, she seemed to lean in to his touch. Her mouth was soft and inviting, slightly parted and just begging for his lips, but he forced himself not to move too fast.
“How am I doing?” he as
ked as he gently nipped at her jaw.
She shivered against him again, and he felt her fingers flex against his shirt. “I think this is . . . good.” She sounded distracted, distant. Her other hand went to his knee, as if trying to pull him closer.
Just good? He’d have to do better. Pressing his lips to the curve of her cheek, he moved toward her ear. “What about over here?”
“You want to kiss my ears?”
“Sure.” They were as pretty and delicate as the rest of her. His hand went to her ear and gently caressed the shell of one. “Unless you think it’d be a bad idea.”
“No, go ahead,” she breathed. A quick glance down told him that she was panting lightly, her breasts heaving under the silk blouse, nipples pointing. Christ, she was beautiful.
His hand went to the nape of her neck to hold her, and he leaned in and gently took one earlobe between his teeth, nipping it.
She audibly sucked in a breath.
He should have teased her a bit more. Asked her if she still liked it. But all the teasing in him had been forgotten. Instead, he gently flicked his tongue against her earlobe and then sucked on it, running his tongue over that tiny bit of sensitive flesh.
And she moaned.
Fuck, that was sexy. Asher swallowed his own moan and continued to make love to her sweet ear, tonguing and licking her lobe and lavishing it with attention. Her nails dug into his arm, but she was drawing him closer. Her hand went to his hair and she clung to him, holding him there.
Holding him to her ear so he could tongue-fuck it.
Sexiest thing ever.
He pulled back, though, because he wanted to wait and see how she’d respond if he stopped.
She whimpered and pulled him forward, her hands demanding. She wanted this. Wanted his mouth on her.
That was all the encouragement Asher needed. He returned to making love to her ear, tonguing and licking and nipping to see which motions got the most results from her. She loved when his tongue traced the shell, but she also quivered against him when he bit down gently on her earlobe. Hell, she loved all of it, and he wanted to hold her and perform this sweet torture on her for hours.
The Billionaire’s Favorite Mistake Page 11