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“I do have on-demand hot water, so that is probably something that could actually happen.”
She hummed, but said nothing as I worked my fingers along her skin, massaging her arms one at a time before dropping to one knee where I started on her legs. Once I had cleaned her—thoroughly, I might add—I gave myself a quick scrub with the same body wash then exited the shower, taking two towels from the rack and wrapping one around my waist before holding the second out for Ricki.
When she reluctantly turned off the water and stepped out, I passed it to her, then went back for a smaller one and handed that to her as well.
“For your hair,” I said at her raised eyebrow.
“Well played, Mr. Dunn,” she teased, using the second towel to squeeze the excess water out of her hair before hanging it back over the glass door of the shower stall and turning back to me.
“Come on, Betty,” I said softly. “Bedtime.”
In all honesty, it was practically morning, but I had a good set of black-out curtains and no where pressing to be the next day. Tugging her by the hand, I led Ricki back to the bedroom and pulled back the covers, tidying up the pillows, which showed just how enthusiastic our sex had been earlier. Unashamedly dropping the towel on the chair next to the bed and climbing in completely naked, she moved over to the middle of the bed and waited for me to join her. Laying my head on the pillow beside hers, I stared into those gorgeous brown eyes, just watching her think.
“Where did you come from, Asher Dunn?” she finally asked quietly.
“A whiskey farm,” I said, before we both drifted off to sleep.
Chapter twenty-six
Ricki
Wakingupinabed that wasn’t yours was disorienting.
Waking upalonein a bed that wasn’t yours was disorientingandaggravating.
I wasn’t sure what time Asher had departed his own bedroom, but if the temperature of the pillow beside me was any indication, it was a while ago.
Rolling onto my back, I stared up at the ceiling in the darkened room, wondering what time it was and what the hell I was gonna do about that man now that we’d had the most epic sex in the history of hookups.
Seriously, Asher looked like a flannel wearing, truck driving good old boy, but underneath that, he was a goddamned beast.
Smiling to myself at the memory, I climbed out of the bed and headed for the bathroom, honestly afraid of what my hair would look like after going to sleep with it wet and unbrushed.
As anticipated, it was a disaster, but nothing a good finger comb couldn’t marginally improve. Finishing up in the bathroom, I stopped in the bedroom and looked around, contemplating my next move.
Running wasn’t really an option, seeing as how my boots were downstairs and the bedroom was on the second floor. I could have hidden, but there didn’t appear to be many places available and that I’d probably look like an idiot when he found me.
That left going out there and facing him like a grownup; not my favorite option, but the only one where I could keep at leastsomeof my dignity.
Looking around the room, I didn’t see the pants and hoodie from last night, nor did I spy my leather corset, not that I was looking forward to wearing that a second time; my nipples were tender, and the leather was completely unforgiving. I considered rooting around through the closet or dresser, but that felt a little too intimate.
Shaking my head at that thought, I laughed quietly.
The man had had his face buried between my legs less than six hours ago, but I was worried about him catching me poking around in his underwear drawer?
Fucking hell.
Finally noticing that Asher had left his discarded flannel shirt on the chair last night, I scooped it up, rolling the sleeves a couple of times, then fastening the buttons over my nakedness and steeling myself to face him.
What the hell kind of morning after did this situation warrant? We weren’t dating, and we were barely friends, really. He’d helped me out of a jam or three, and we’d humped in a barn before coming back to his place.
We were acquaintances at best, right?
But, he had taken me back to his childhood home and introduced me to his family, which seemed to tip the scales from casual to something else, and I was not sure how I felt about it at all.
Before I could talk myself into a full-on panic spiral, I gripped the door knob and pulled it open, forcing myself into the hallway and heading for the stairs, where I halted at the sound of not one but two male voices coming from the kitchen.
“How long are you going to let her sleep?” asked a voice with a familiar gentle country drawl.
