“Of course you can’t. Your parents have been together for thirty-five years.”
His pulse skipped as he glanced back over his shoulder at that, but her head was bent low while she rolled a tool with a metal ball on the end along the edges of one of the cut out flowers.
The wistful note in her voice told him she wanted the exact thing she claimed to not believe in. And if her heart longed for love to last a lifetime, then it was entirely possible she could fall for him like he was falling for her. As he’d told her, it wasn’t like the mind had any say over what the heart wanted—no matter how many warnings were issued.
CHAPTER 18
Honor kept her head down as she thinned and waved the edges of the petals on the fondant flowers. Asher’s drop-ins were something she could easily become addicted to. Pizza, beer, good company, awesome car, hot guy.
Sexy moans as he enjoyed something she created.
Yeah, he was someone she could easily become addicted to. Probably already was since she hadn’t even considered sending him home when he’d pulled up in her driveway. Not to mention, she’d ensured even more time together when she’d shamelessly flirted so he would agree to let her drive his baby.
Mae would’ve laughed and called her a hussy, but that was only because she didn’t understand the irresistible lure of the classics. She built things new. Tore down the old and replaced with new. Restoration wasn’t her thing.
“You draw?” Asher asked from across the room.
“Some. Mostly I sketch out my cake designs,” she answered absently.
Then it dawned on her what had prompted his question, and she jerked her head up in alarm. Her sketch pad was wide open on the coffee table.
Her heart stuttered in her chest, heat flaring in her cheeks as he set down his beer and reached for the book. She’d been working on a client’s cake earlier in the day, but the sketch of him sprawled in bed was only a few pages back. Granted, his body had been drawn based purely on the memory of being pressed against him during that kiss that still pleasured her dreams, but his face…well, there was no way he wouldn’t recognize himself.
“Um…” She hurried around the kitchen island when he sat back on the couch, sketch book pulled onto his lap. He slouched down into the cushions, braced one booted foot on her coffee table, and leaned the book on his thigh to turn the page.
Thank God he was paging forward, not back.
Honor halted a few steps from the couch, bottom caught lip between her teeth, fists clenched at her sides. If she was lucky, he’d get tired of looking at drawings of cakes and set the book aside when he got to the front, or sooner. But if he didn’t stop there, she didn’t want to be sitting face to face when he saw the proof she’d been imagining him in bed naked, save for the sheet draped over his hips.
She spun on the ball of her foot and went back to her fondant flowers.
“I have been addicted to your cakes from the first wedding I ever tasted one.”
She shot a quick glance at the top of his head, visible over the back of the couch. “How’d you know it was mine?”
“When I photographed the cake, I noticed the double H on the back. I like how you always incorporate that into each design without it being too obvious.”
He’d noticed her initials? She could count on one hand the brides that had noticed her signature. It was something she did for herself, so she never felt the need to point it out. “How long ago was that?”
“Umm…I think about three years ago.”
“Funny we never met before I moved across the street.” She set another finished petal cutout aside to dry and started the next one.
Three more lined the drying rack when Asher’s voice came from the couch again. “Technically, we met at Shawn and Meisha’s wedding.”
“If you’re getting technical, that’s only half-true. I didn’t know who you were until your parents’ anniversary party.”
Paper rustled as he turned another page.
Please stay to the front.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he agreed.
He sounded tired, and she glanced at the clock to see it was almost ten-thirty. If he had been up since his three a.m. wake-up call, plus a full day of climbing, she understood the rasp of exhaustion in his voice. She’d probably sound the same after working late tonight and getting up early to deliver the cupcakes to Roxanna’s shop by eight. But the flowers had to dry before she could paint them, and she had fifty to complete before she could call it a night.
As she envisioned the cake in her mind and the next steps to complete tomorrow, the only sound was the crinkle of turning pages every two or three completed flowers. Then she realized even that had stopped.
“I didn’t want to meet you, you know.”
Asher’s low, mumbled words stilled her hands. She lifted her head to watch the top of his. “Because of my multiple fiancés?”
“Nope.”
When he didn’t elaborate, she prompted, “Then why didn’t you want to meet me?”
“’Cause.”
She gave him a moment before saying, “’Cause is the worst reason why in the history of all reasons why, Asher.”
After another prolonged moment, he said, “Your cakes are so fucking awesome, I knew if you weren’t some little ol‘ grandma, you were going to star in every one of my erotic fantasies wearing nothing but an apron.”
What?
Eyes wide, she stared across the room while lifting one hand to finger the neck strap of her apron as heat flooded her whole body.
“Turns out, I was right.”
Was he drunk? She didn’t think so off of two beers, but—
Oh—shit.
Her heart lodged in her throat as realization hit. He found the sketch.
Okay. Deep breath. That’s fine. Clearly, the feeling is mutual.
Heart thumping in her chest, she gripped the ball roller as she waited for him to turn and look at her. One sultry invitation from his gorgeous amber eyes and she’d run over and jump him before he could say, “I want you now.”
But he didn’t turn. He didn’t even say another word.
Was he waiting for her to make a move?
Probably. Especially since she had been the one to shut him down last weekend. “We’re neighbors. We can’t do this.” Funny thing was, the more time she spent with him, the more she kept forgetting her own argument.
Or, maybe not forgetting it, but for sure not giving a shit about it.
As she debated what to do, a light snore sounded from the couch. In the blink of an eye, all her super-charged tension drained away. Another snore made her smile, and then she outright laughed at him—and herself—as she made her way over to the couch.
Asher didn’t move a muscle at her laugh, confirming he’d fallen dead asleep.
Still smiling, she eased the sketch pad off his lap, flipped it closed on a cake design for next month, and set it on the coffee table. He shifted slightly, and she studied his face for a long moment. Even when asleep, he was panty-melting pretty.
The red scrape and underlying bruise on his cheekbone shifted her ridiculous disappointment that they weren’t both horizontal on the couch at the moment to concern over how he’d gotten the injury.
He’d said it was a little slip, but once or twice during the past hour or so, she’d caught a wince on his face as he shifted. Her chest constricted at the thought of him being in danger. A little slip didn’t result in a guy looking like he’d gone a round or two with a mountain and the mountain won. If he was sore now, he’d be hurting even more in the morning.
She glanced toward the living room windows that faced his house across the street. If she was smart, she’d wake him right now so he could go home and sleep in his bed. Better for his battered body, not to mention, what would their other neighbors think when they saw his car in her driveway in the morning?
Would he care?
Did she care?
She should, but didn’t really. More so, she liked having him here in
her house with her. She’d been drawn to him from the moment she’d seen him wrapping up the pieces of cake at his friends’ wedding. Once he’d stopped being a jerk—and even she had to admit his reasons for that were actually quite decent—she’d discovered not only was the guy hot, he was genuinely nice and easy to talk to.
Plus, he had awesome taste in cake and cars.
She dragged a throw blanket off the back of the couch to spread it over him. When she leaned over to tug it up his chest, she couldn’t help a wistful glance at his relaxed lips.
Extra plus—he kissed like a god. And smelled delicious, too.
She looked back up just as his lashes lifted, and she was inches away from his beautiful amber gaze. Her heart kicked hard in her chest. Confusion flickered in his expression, so she drew up one knee and sank down on the edge of the couch beside him. “Hey. You fell asleep.”
He blinked hard, then pushed up to more of a sitting position before drawing his arms out from under the blanket to flip it down over his lap. “Sorry.”
She smiled. “It’s all my fault. I should’ve warned you how boring cake sketches are.”
“No, the sketches were great,” he argued, the corner of his mouth tugging up. “I’m just wiped from the day. How long was I out?”
“Only a few minutes. In fact, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
When his gaze dropped to her mouth and lingered, her slowly calming pulse shot right back into high gear. It nearly exploded from her chest when he sat forward, but instead of fulfilling her silent yearning for a kiss, he braced his elbows on his knees while scrubbing his hands over his face.
His palm over his bruised cheek made him wince as he mumbled, “It’s fine. I should go anyway. I was dreaming the second my eyes closed.”
“About me baking in my apron?” she dared to tease. “And nothing but my apron?” Her words rushed out a little breathless at the end.
He stilled, his face still buried in his hands. “I said that out loud?”
“Along with, ‘Your cakes are fucking awesome.’”
He groaned and laughed at the same time. “I thought that was part of my dream.”
“Nope.”
He tilted his head to peer at her, his face in his palm. “I’m sorry?”
“Don’t be. But for the record—I’ve never baked while naked.”
His eyes warmed while his mouth curved into a slow, sexy smile that made her insides quiver. That sinful smirk contradicted her claim, even if it was only in his dreams.
“Too risky?” he murmured.
“Extremely risky.” She drew in a breath and willed her voice not to shake as she leaned closer. Her breasts pressed against his arm with her whispered, “But, then again, maybe it could be fun.”
The warmth in his eyes gave way for blazing heat. He shifted, lifting a hand to cup the back of her neck. She loved that. His hold conveyed possession and protection at the same time. As she started to close her eyes for his kiss, his grip suddenly tightened the tiniest bit, and he pulled back with a quick shake of his head.
“Before we do this, I want to take you to dinner.”
Her pulse thrilled with the surety this meant more than a kiss, and she tilted her head toward the almost empty box on the table. “You brought pizza. And beer.”
His other hand came up to palm her face. He ran his thumb along her bottom lip, his hungry gaze tracking the movement. “Not good enough. It has to be a real dinner. A real date. You dress up, I’ll drive, we’ll go to a nice restaurant, have dessert, the whole nine yards.”
It sounded nice—great even—but her whole body yearned for his right now. She bit back a small hum of frustration. “Why?”
“Because I want more than sex.”
So do I.
Honor swallowed hard at that voice in her head that kept whispering things she knew better than to hope for. Except, lately, her foolish heart cheered the insolent little bitch every time.
The softened look in Asher’s eyes made her suspect he’d read her mind, but before she could say anything, he closed the distance between them and captured her mouth with his. His lips were soft yet firm against hers, the kiss kinda sweet and a little cautious.
It was nice, but nowhere near as hot and passionate as the other night. Nice, but nowhere near as satisfying.
She leaned forward, pushing up onto her knees to get closer, winding one arm around his neck while threading her other hand through his thick, dark hair. She twined the strands around her fingers, loving the softness against her skin.
When she scraped her nails against his scalp, his low, sexy groan made her want more. With him, it was always more.
Tilting her head, she opened her mouth to deepen the kiss. He took the invitation and ran with it, his tongue snaking in to stroke against hers. Each parry and retreat built the heat between them, and he rose up with her before laying her back on the couch. With her knee drawn up against the back cushion, she moaned her approval when his weight pressed her into the cushions as he reclaimed her mouth.
Rock hard muscles branded her thighs and her breasts, and every inch in between. She hooked her leg over his hip, aching to get closer while she explored the planes of his back before sliding her hands down to the tight globes of his ass.
He tore his mouth from hers, his labored breath hot against her cheek. “I really should go.”
But even as he spoke the words, his lips skimmed along her jaw, and he moved lower to nip her neck. A light suck and lick of his tongue shot red-hot desire straight to her core. She arched her hips up against the steel length of his arousal with a wanton whimper.
His guttural groan vibrated against her chest and neck.
“Fuck, Honor.”
“Yes. Good plan,” she panted.
He gave another groan. The scruff on his chin scraped the swell of her breast when he nuzzled the neckline of her shirt out of the way. “Geezus, you smell good enough to eat.”
Yes.
When his teeth nipped at her skin, her core clenched hard. She reached back and underneath to unhook her bra, only to have him chase his hand after hers to stop it. Fingers gripping hers, he huffed out a breath as he laid his bristled cheek right over her heart. His thumped fast against her ribs in perfect sync.
“I meant what I said.” Frustration roughened his voice. Or maybe it was regret.
It was her turn to huff out a heavy sigh. “I know you did. And I should be mad at you for it, but I can’t be.”
He lifted his head. “Why would you be mad?”
“Because you’re going to leave me wanting more. Again.” When his eyebrows rose in question, she said, “After that first kiss, after our phone call. Now. It’s made for some very long nights.”
He stared at her for a long moment, his gaze molten hot. “You don’t do anything to…take the edge off?”
Heat flooded her face. “No.” Though she’d thought about it. “Did you?”
“Um…”
She arched her eyebrows even as her body flushed at the thought of him stroking himself while thinking of her. “Each time?”
“Just after the phone call. It was late, and in my mind you were baking. In your apron.” She grinned as he added, “I was tired, and a cold shower would’ve woken me the hell up.”
“You don’t have to justify.”
He shrugged with a cute little grin.
“Cold showers don’t work the same for women,” she complained, not quite sure what else to say as he still lay on top of her even though he was adamant this wasn’t going to happen tonight. “At least I don’t think so.”
“Probably not,” he agreed. He leaned down to kiss the tip of her nose, then captured her mouth in a long, slow, deep kiss that left her gasping for breath and writhing beneath him.
Damn his good-guy sense of honor.
He trailed his lips down the side of her neck, and she arched her head back to give him better access. As she struggled to fill her lungs while his lips and tongue erased the word neig
hbor from her vocabulary, his weight lifted from her body.
She moaned her protest, but then his hot breath against her ear sent a delicious shiver down her spine as he kneeled beside the couch.
“I know something that could work.”
It took a moment for the husky words to register in her dazed brain. “Work for what?”
He nipped her earlobe and spoke with it between his teeth. “To take the edge off.”
Her heart leapt as he traced the shell of her ear with his tongue while skimming his hand down over her belly to the elastic band of her leggings.
And just like that, she lost her breath all over again.
CHAPTER 19
A sher brushed his hand over the soft, silky skin of Honor’s belly below her navel. The wide waistband of her leggings barred his access. Her stomach quivered beneath his touch as he swirled the tip of his tongue around the rapid pulse at the base of her throat.
“Yes or no?” he rasped against her skin, his breath short with anticipation.
Please say yes. Please.
He needed something to tide himself over until their dinner. Because he was a fucking idiot for not taking all she was offering right now.
Her breath came in shallow spurts as her fingers threaded through his hair. “I didn’t say that to make you feel like you have to—”
“Oh, Honor, I want to,” he interrupted. “I want to so very much.”
“Then, yes,” she whispered.
He rose up just enough to capture those delectable lips as he slipped his hand inside her pants. His dick throbbed when he felt how wet she was. Because of him. For him. The first graze of his finger between her folds drew a breathless gasp from her throat. He stroked his tongue deep into her mouth with each caress over her clit, all the while noting what moves elicited the best response.
As he increased speed and pressure, her hips bucked against his hand. A slight shift and he slid one finger inside her. When he added a second and rubbed his thumb over her swollen nub, her back arched on a low, drawn out moan, head thrown back.
Must Love Frosting: Must Love Diamonds Series, Book 1 Page 13