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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.”
