It looks like I’m not the only one affected by our close proximity.
“What if I don’t want to?” his sexy voice rumbles in my ear.
“Well, it will make washing my hair really tricky,” I point out, as he sighs.
He slides me down his body, making me very aware of the fact I’m only wearing a soaking wet bra and panties. There is no mistaking the effect my scantily clad body is having on his.
I watch on shaky legs as he loosens his tie, pulling it free and tossing it in the corner. Next, he opens the cuffs of his shirt, followed by buttons running down the front of it. Pulling it away from his skin, he exposes his smooth tan chest, a nicely defined six-pack, and a little trail of hair that disappears into the waistband of his pants.
“You okay, Skittle?” he asks with an amused smirk on his face.
“Skittle?” I question, trying to focus on anything other than the half-naked man in front of me.
And now he’s taking off his pants.
My nipples pebble, and it has nothing to do with the cold.
“Your skin and hair are a kaleidoscope of colors. Skittle seems like the perfect nickname,” he says with a smile, now standing in nothing more than a black pair of Calvin Klein boxers.
“Plus,” he leans down and whispers in my ear, “I really can’t wait to taste the rainbow.”
I laugh then groan when the cut on my lip pulls.
“Shit, sorry. Come on, let's get you cleaned up, then I’ll get some ice for your face.”
I turn and reach for the shampoo, which he promptly snatches from my hand.
“Hey,” I scold, but that quickly turns into a moan of appreciation when he pours some onto his palms and begins to massage it into my scalp.
I stand there docilely and let him wash my hair, rinsing off the soapy suds before conditioning it, all without a single word of protest. I might be wary of where this thing between us is going, but I’m not crazy enough to say no to a hot guy washing my hair. Especially when said hot guy is my husband.
“Okay, so you are definitely earning brownie points for this, not gonna lie.”
He chuckles quietly behind me. “Good to know, Skittle. Are you feeling better now?”
I turn to face him and feel my stomach clench with need at the look in his eyes.
“Yeah, I’m good,” I whisper.
His fingers trail up my arm, toying with the strap of my bra, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Trust me?” he asks softly.
I shake my head no, making him chuckle again.
“Let me prove myself. I won’t hurt you, sweetheart, I promise. I just want to take care of you.”
I stare in his eyes as he watches, waiting for me to take a leap of faith.
Okay. Damn, am I going to do this? The last time I was naked with this man, things got kind of wild. But I promised I’d give this marriage a shot. How will I know if it will sink or float if I don’t give it everything I can?
Nodding, I wait to see what his next move will be.
He takes a step closer to me, his front brushing against mine, his erection thick and heavy between us, but we ignore it for now. Reaching behind me, he deftly unclips my bra and slides it down my arms, pulling it free and tossing it into the corner.
My chest rises and falls rapidly with each ragged breath I take, but I don’t take my eyes from Asher’s, letting his heated gaze keep me grounded and in the moment.
Without looking away, he hooks his fingers into the side of my panties and oh so slowly slides them over my hips and down my thighs. Bending, he kneels, helping me step out of them, and all the while, his eyes continue to blaze into mine.
Lifting my hands without thought, I run my fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp with my nails, eliciting a moan from him before he quickly stands up and chastises me as my hands fall away.
“I’m trying to be a good man here, Skittle, but I’m no fucking saint. I can’t think clearly when you touch me.”
His words make my skin tingle, a sense of power washing over me along with the knowledge that I have as much control here as he does, if not more. I’m willing to bet if I push him, he’ll crack.
Asher reaches behind me and snags the body wash, squeezing a generous amount into his palm before lathering his palms together. Starting at my shoulders, he runs his hands down my arms and around to my back, trailing his fingertips over my ribs as he slowly makes his way to my hips. After applying a little more soap, he slides his large hands over one leg then the other, coming dangerously close to the apex of my thighs but never crossing the line. Standing back up, he slowly cups my breasts but doesn’t linger before rinsing all the suds away.
“Time to get out, gorgeous.” His gravelly voice sounds a touch deeper than usual.
“What about you?” I ask, indicating his boxer shorts, but he shakes his head.
“I underestimated the effect your naked body would have on mine, and I really overestimated my control. Right now, these boxers are the only thing keeping my cock out of your sweet pussy.”
“Holy crap,” I whisper
“Yeah, that about sums it up.” He smirks, leaning over to shut off the water before stepping out and grabbing a large fluffy white towel from the heated towel rail.
He holds the towel open for me, so I step out in somewhat of a daze, letting him wrap it securely around me before he grabs a second towel for himself.
I would love to be able to say I offered him the same respect he showed me, keeping my eyes firmly on his despite the temptation, but mine are drawn to his cock like it's fitted with a homing beacon.
With no shame, he shucks his boxers to the floor where they hit the tile with a loud slap. They could have hit the floor and exploded into flames and I still wouldn’t have been able to tear my eyes away from Asher's very big, very hard cock that stands loud and proud before he covers it with a towel.
“Should I feel objectified?” he asks with amusement in his voice, making me look up as I feel my face heat.
“Well, I’m your wife, right? If anyone gets to look, it’s me,” I sass, making a grin stretch across his face.
“I can’t argue with that, Skittle. Come on, let's go and get you some ice and you can tell me everything that happened. And then…” His voice trails off as he steps forward, his body once more flush with mine.
“And then?” I ask breathlessly, as I try and fail to pretend I’m unaffected.
“And then I’m taking my wife to bed.”
Oh boy.
Seventeen
Linda
Sitting at the kitchen island, wearing nothing more than my underwear and one of Asher’s shirts, I relax with a glass of wine as Asher hangs up the phone. The heat between us is still present, but it’s now more of a low simmer than the flames that licked my skin earlier.
“That was a friend of mine down at the station. He says we can go tomorrow and file a report, but it's more a formality than anything else. The chances of finding your bag or the person who took it are slim.”
“I figured as much. I went online like you said and canceled my bank cards and stuff. Not really much else I can do.” I shrug and take a sip of my wine.
Luckily there wasn’t anything in there that couldn’t be replaced. I’m more pissed about losing my sketch pad than anything.
He sits in front of me in nothing more than a pair of low slung gray lounge pants and lifts my legs onto one of his thighs, his large hand resting over my calves. I still can’t get over how tactile he is with me. A thousand little touches that might go unnoticed to some light up my body like the fourth of July, and I don’t think he even realizes he’s doing it. His hand on the small of my back, his long fingers tucking my hair behind my ear, or stroking my skin with his calloused palm like he is now makes me realize how starved of human touch I’ve been for the last year.
“Put this back on. It will help with the swelling,” he urges me, lifting the melting bag of peas off the counter.
“I’m oka
y, I promise,” I reassure him, but he holds the bag in front of me until I take it with a sigh.
“Thank you. Now tell me from the beginning what happened.” His voice leaves no room for arguments, so I decide to just get it over with.
“I went back home—”
“This is your home now,” he interrupts me, making me roll my eyes.
“If you are going to keep cutting me off, this story is going to take forever to get through. As I was saying, I went to my old place to grab some of my art supplies and ended up packing everything while I was there. I didn’t even realize how much time had passed until I’d finished and noticed it was getting dark. I left, caught the train, and got back here just before the heavens opened.”
“What time was that? How long were you out in the rain?” he fires off, making me shake my head in exasperation.
“About an hour. I got here just before nine. Then, after the asshat kicked me out, I figured I’d be better off going back to my old place and maybe you’d look for me there. I would have found a cafe or somewhere to wait, but I’m not familiar with anything in this area except the train station and I didn’t want to get lost in the dark. I couldn’t call you and didn’t know where you worked to call your office, so it seemed like the best option.”
He nods, conceding the point, but I don’t miss the way his hand tightens around the glass of wine he takes a healthy slug from.
“So, you caught the train and got mugged before you made it back to your old place?” he prompts.
“No, I didn’t even make it on to the train. Someone grabbed me just as I got to the station and yanked me behind one of those freestanding billboards. I don’t know why that stuck in my head, but for some reason, I was even more pissed about the prospect of being mugged behind a sign advertising hemorrhoid cream.”
He doesn’t smile, so I quickly carry on.
“Some skinny guy in black jeans and a black hoodie, with this hood pulled down low over his face, yanked my bag. It was one of those over the body ones so that move wasn’t as effective as he had hoped it would be. That just pissed him off. We struggled. He punched me, though I managed to turn and deflect the full brunt of it before he caught me in the lip with his elbow.”
Asher grunts, his grip tightening on my calves at my words. Seeing how pissed he is about me getting hurt, just endears him to me even more.
“He um…cut the strap in the end, and as soon as he had the bag, he ran,” I finish quietly, his body going rock solid.
“He cut the strap?” Asher repeats, his voice taking on a sharp tone. “He had a fucking knife?”
He jumps from the stool and starts pacing, his hands gripping his hair in agitation.
“Asher, I’m okay. I was admittedly freaked out when it happened, but you’ve done nothing but make me feel safe the second I stepped through those glass doors downstairs.”
He stalks back over to me, crowding me against the counter as he bends so that his eyes are level with mine.
“Somebody put their fucking hands on you, Skittle. They threatened you with a goddamn fucking knife and made you bleed, and I was in my office, twiddling my thumbs. I could have lost you before I even had—”
I press my lips against his, closing the last of the distance between us and cutting off his words. My lip stings a little, but I ignore it, reveling in the taste of him.
I had planned to take this thing between us slowly but seeing him so worried about me does strange things to my insides. It's been a long time since someone showed me such concern. He resists for a moment before giving in with a groan, wrapping a hand in my hair and tilting my head back to give him better access.
“What you do to me,” he mumbles to himself before I’m up and in his arms. I wrap my legs around his waist and hold on tight as he walks us toward the bedroom. My stomach twists into knots as a kaleidoscope of butterflies try to break free from within me.
Once inside the bedroom, he places me gently on my feet before forcibly taking a step back.
“You make me forget myself,” he sighs with a shake of his head.
I take a step toward him, trying to close the distance between us, but he holds up his hand to ward me off.
“I’m hanging on by a thread here, Skittle, and as much as I want to feel your hot, slick heat around me once more, I swore to myself I wasn’t going to rush this. I don’t ever want you to regret this or think I only want you for convenient sex. When you do let me back inside you, I want it to be because you are one hundred percent sure about this marriage.”
“But—”
He shakes his head, and my shoulders slump in defeat.
“Time for bed, Skittle,” he tells me with a no-nonsense tone. “I’m going to make sure everything is turned off and locked up.” He disappears before I can say anything else.
Frustrated, I storm into the bathroom and brush my teeth. I get where he’s coming from. On some level, I even think it's sweet, but the overriding emotions I’m feeling right now are horny and pissed off. I’m a big girl, I can make my own decision, and it rankles me when someone decides what's best for me as if I can’t figure that shit out for myself.
I stomp back out to the bedroom and sigh when I take in the giant, empty bed.
I’m being unfair, and he’s right, it's been a rough night. Will I still be feeling so reckless in the morning when I’ve had a chance to sleep on everything?
Pulling back the thick quilt, I climb in, enjoying the expensive sheets against my bare legs. Not knowing which side he likes to sleep on, I roll myself into the middle with the plan to move when he comes back and tells me which side he prefers.
Alas, that's the last thing I remember before waking up to the sun shining in through the bedroom windows, finding myself in the same spot I fell asleep in.
And completely alone.
Eighteen
Asher
Typing away in my office at the proposal I’m working on, I try to keep myself busy and away from the delectable woman currently sleeping in my bed.
Last night I took the coward's way out and went to bed after she fell asleep and left before she woke. I don’t trust myself around her and pushing her too far too fast is not something I want to risk.
I pour over the documents until the words blur together and my eyes feel like they are bleeding, but the information might as well be written in Sanskrit. Nothing seems to pull my focus away from the woman who tests my control like no other.
“Hey.”
I look up at the sound of her voice and see the object of my obsession leaning against the doorframe with a cup of coffee in her hand.
“Morning, Skittle, any more coffee?” I ask, dragging my eyes over her smooth, toned legs that disappear under the hem of one of my white button-up shirts.
“Here.” She walks forward and hands her coffee to me, which I take with a grateful smile.
“Thank you.” My fingers grip the cup hard so I don’t yank her to me like I really want to. “How’s the face?”
“It's fine. It doesn’t bother me unless I touch it.”
She watches me for a moment, twisting on her feet a little like she's debating what she wants to say next.
“Why didn’t you come to bed last night?” she questions softly, her gaze locked intently on mine.
“I did. You were fast asleep, and I had to get up early this morning to sort out this proposal I have in the works.” Everything I said is true, it's just not the entire reason I’ve been avoiding her.
"Ah, so it isn't me, it's you?" she says with a wry smile, making me sigh.
Fuck it. Placing my cup on the table, I pull her into my lap like I wanted to the second she walked through the door.
“It's not you, Skittle. I slept better with you in my arms than I have for as long as I can remember, but I don't trust myself around you. I don't want to push you too far too soon—”
She turns in my lap to straddle me, cutting off my words by placing a finger over my lips.
“Whe
n I agreed to give this a go between us, I didn't know what to expect or what I would feel, but being here with you has already exceeded any expectations I had. You wanted a real marriage and the way I see it, that involves sex and feelings. If you want to give this thing a go, we have to be open to everything. It's not the kind of deal you can straddle the fence with. All in, remember?”
“And what about you?” I ask, sliding my hands over her hips. “You keep talking about what I want, but what do you want?”
She looks at me, her big blue eyes searching mine for something before she answers on a whisper. “I want the same thing I did when I spoke my vows to you a year ago. I want to love, honor, and obey you.”
My dick goes from half-mast to rock fucking solid.
“Obey? Most people change those words for something else in their marriage vows these days,” I murmur, skimming my nose up the column of her neck.
“I'm not most girls,” she admits in a low voice, tipping her head back to give me better access. “Most of the time I'll buck any rules that I feel will constrict who I am but...” Her words trail off as she gasps when I place a kiss at the hollow of her throat.
“But?” I prompt as she lifts her head to stare at me, her cheeks flushed and her eyes warm with arousal.
She wraps her hands around my neck and pulls herself closer, grinding down on my hard cock. “But in the bedroom, I have no problem following orders,” she assures me, her gaze dipping to my lips as she swivels her hips.
That’s all it takes for all rational thought to go out the window. My lips are on hers before I can stop myself, plundering, devouring, and dominating her just the way she wants me to. Her taste is exquisite—like honey and sex, utterly addictive—and I know I'll never be able to give this up.
I stand with her in my arms and lean forward, bracing her weight on my left forearm while using my right to swipe all the contents from my desk. The coffee cup smashes into the wall with a thunk, making her jump as it shatters, but when I lay her back over the hard wooden desktop, everything else is forgotten.
Hoax Husband: A Hero Club Novel Page 8