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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.
“Oh…God…that feels good,” she panted. “So good.”
The almost painful clench of her fingers in his hair turned him on even more. He stroked in and out, curling his fingers to hit just the right spot as his thumb played her clit.
“Asher.”
His name fell from her lips as a plea. It was the sexiest fucking thing he’d ever heard in his life. He couldn’t wait to hear it again when he was buried to the hilt inside her.
One more circle of his thumb, a little extra pressure, and she detonated in his arms. He lifted his lashes to watch her come apart, and wondered again why the fuck he’d insisted on dinner first?
The answer was swift. Because with her, he really did want more than sex. She was worth the wait. She was worth the cold shower.
Oh, hell, who was he kidding? He was going to memorize this moment and use it as he took the edge off himself later.
Her eyes were closed as he withdrew his hand, smoothed her pants, and pressed a gentle kiss to her soft mouth.
“Wow,” she breathed. The dark fan of her lashes lifted on her languid green eyes and a very satisfied grin curved her lips. “Thank you.”
He gave a soft laugh. “You’re welcome, and thank you. How’s seven tomorrow for dinner?”
Regret drew her eyebrows down in a frown. “I can’t do tomorrow. I have to finish this cake.”
“Friday?”
She lifted a hand to palm his face, expression contrite. “I’m sorry, but I need every moment before I deliver the cake Saturday afternoon. But after that, I’m free for the evening, and all of Sunday before two-cake hell-week starts.”
Holy blue balls, man. That was three whole days away.
“I’m really sorry,” she repeated with a sheepish little grin tugging at her mouth.
“Don’t apologize.” He drew in a deep, fortifying breath and dropped a quick peck on her lips. “Saturday it is.”
When he pushed to his feet and started to go, she flipped over and scrambled to her knees while reaching over the arm of the couch to catch his hand. “You’re leaving?”
“Yes.”
Her gaze dropped to his crotch and blood surged straight to his still-rock-hard erection. “You don’t want me to—”
He leaned down and smothered her words with a hard kiss. If he heard that offer from her tempting lips, he’d be unzipping his jeans in two seconds flat. “Sweet dreams, Butter Cream.”
“Butter Cream?” she sputtered as he strode away.
“Yep,” he tossed over his shoulder while opening the door. “It’s my favorite.”
Frosting was not a satisfying substitute for sex, but by Friday afternoon, it was the best option Asher had since he didn’t trust himself to go over by Honor’s and keep his hands to himself. He’d texted both days since Wednesday night, because he’d wanted to let her know he was thinking of her, and each time she’d sent back cute replies. Cheeky replies. Replies that made him want to run across the street to see her smile and hear her laugh. Taste her lips and touch her in ways that made her entire body tremble in his arms.
So yeah, he was on day two of Operation Stay Away Until Saturday. Which meant after biking fifteen miles, cutting the grass, and finishing up the last of the digital photo edits for the climbing school brochure, he’d had to come down to Lift Your Spirit to get his sugar fix.
