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She looked through her fingers. Yup, the sheet was even lower now, showing a little bit of his groomed pubic hair. “Oh, this is so, so bad,” she muttered. Especially considering he looked delicious, and she really, really wanted to take him up on his offer.
His chuckle deepened, and he leaned up on one arm, displaying his incredible six-pack. “I recall you yelling out last night that I was oh, so, so good.” Damn him, his eyes twinkled.
She dropped her head into her hands. “Oh my God, I threw myself at you,” she grumbled into her fingers. “This is so embarrassing.” Drunk Remy was always so much braver and sexier than sober Remy. “What is wrong with me?”
“Absolutely nothing,” he said huskily. “Come here, and I’ll prove it.”
She dropped her hands, her headache pushed to the side now that her embarrassment had stolen the show. She tried to think up one of Nana’s spells that could somehow make all this better, but she failed miserably. Memories of last night began drifting in, and her pushy seduction followed. She needed to hide under that blanket, which meant he had to get out. “If I got back into that bed with you, that would be the second”—she counted on her fingers—”no, like the fifth mistake I’ve made this week, if you include my almost getting married to a con man.”
“Last night wasn’t a mistake,” Asher said softy in a tone she supposed was meant to be reassuring. “You needed something. You took it. And I happily gave it.” He grinned and then his gaze did a full once-over on her body before those sexy eyes rose to hers again.
Instantly reminded she was naked, she crossed everything, “Don’t look at me.”
His easy grin widened. “I kissed and touched every inch of you three times last night. Why can’t I look now?”
“Ugh. Stop it!” She beelined it for her closet, stopping short at the emptiness on the right side, where all of Damon’s clothes had been. Dear God, she was going to marry another man two days ago and she’d slept with the love of her life last night. Bad, Remy. So, so bad! She hurried into a sports bra, T-shirt, and yoga pants before returning to him.
Asher hadn’t moved an inch. The shit.
“Okay, you have to go,” she said, crossing her arms. “Right now.”
He laced his hands behind his head on the pillow. “Why?”
“Why?” She moved closer, put her hands on her hips. “Are you kidding me? Two days ago I was wearing a wedding dress and was about to marry someone else.”
“A wedding dress you burned,” he gently reminded her. “And your groom is in jail and will likely stay there for a very long time.” Asher’s gaze basically ate her up, promising things, making her nipples pucker.
She went to turn away. “I cannot even talk about this.”
“Talk about how you ravished the hell out of me last night. Three times,” Asher said, drawing her attention back to him. “Well, twice”—he winked—“I did the ravishing that third time.” He smiled, a playful grin.
Her body froze in place, her face and neck and ears all feeling impossibly hot. Oh, my God! A quick glance around revealed Asher’s clothes scattered on the floor. She scooped each thing up, then hastily handed them to him. “You’ve got to go. We need to forget this ever happened.”
Asher stretched, and in his easy manner, he slid out of bed. He rose to his full height, staring down at her, displaying his spectacular body with muscles on top of muscles. “I can go.” His voice was low and smooth, and sent heat straight between her thighs as he went on. “But I won’t forget last night happened.”
She blinked, momentarily stunned by his hefty erection. Did every inch of him have to be so damn perfect? She put on her game face and looked him in the eye. “Put that away.”
His grin melted her bones. “There’s definitely a place, or two, I’d like to put this. And it’s not back in my jeans.”
She squeezed her legs together against the hot pulsing need.
His grin widened.
She rolled her eyes and gave him a gentle push. “Stop flattering yourself. You’re hot and you’ve got a perfect dick. I can’t help but notice you.” She turned her back to him, folding her arms. “But that changes nothing. Get dressed.”
His low laugh that echoed with heady masculine amusement rose goose bumps on her arms. Damn, she was in so much trouble.
When she heard the zipper, she turned back to find him wearing only his jeans and dog tags. She shouldn’t have turned around. Emotion flooded her, making her move toward him and touch those dog tags. With all that body on her mind, and maybe her shock, she hadn’t seen those on him last night, or been sober enough to realize, but those belonged to his mother, who had been in the military. “You still wear them, huh?”
He moved away, pulling the tags from Remy’s hands as he slid his T-shirt quickly over his head. “They never come off.”
For all the heat that had been there a second ago, all the confusion and fear pulsing through her, now the air only seemed to hold thick emotion, pulling her forward. The memory of the last time she’d felt that emotion slammed into her.
The steady beep of the monitor was the only indication that any life remained in the woman lying in front of them. Remy stayed back as Asher sat on the chair next to the hospital bed, holding his mother’s hand. Remy’s heart reached for Asher, but it also reached for his mother. She couldn’t imagine being so wrapped up in any man, or having such low self-esteem, that when he left her she’d seen no way to continue on, so she took her own life. Maybe downing the pills had been a cry for help. Or his mother hadn’t meant to actually go through with it, hoping it would bring her husband back to her. But more likely, years of abuse suffered by the hands of a drunk had rendered his mother broken. Too broken to carry on.
“Mom, can you hear me?” Asher asked, breaking into Remy’s thoughts.
Tears welled and emotion clawed at Remy’s throat. She wanted to stay next to him and hold him, but she knew he needed time with his mom. The curtains were drawn in the room, only a sliver of sunlight casting into the room.
