“Your phone.”
Those eyes narrowed, and he sighed and flopped his arm off the side of the bed to retrieve the device.
He stiffened and dragged himself upright. “It’s Liam.” He accepted the call. “Hello?”
My brother’s voice was quiet and tinny. I couldn’t make out what he was saying, but Asher nodded and threw off the blankets. He stood and stretched, showing off his toned abs to full advantage, then hitched up the waistband of his boxers and sauntered out of the room.
I watched wistfully as he left. I’d have been happy to snuggle, but obviously, he wanted some space to talk to Liam.
I lay back against the pillows and closed my eyes. I was surprisingly well-rested. I’d expected to wake up almost as exhausted as I’d been last night, but I must have slept deeply. In the other room, the cadence of Asher’s voice rose and fell. I couldn’t identify his tone, but when he returned, the phone hanging from his grip, he looked frustrated.
I patted the bed, and he sat. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. That’s the problem. It’s like you said last night: I’m ready for this to be over.”
I scooched myself alongside him and wrapped my arms around his waist, burying my face against his warm skin. “It will be soon.”
Or not.
I hadn’t believed him last night, and I got the impression he didn’t either.
I grimaced. Okay, perhaps I wasn’t in a very soothing frame of mind, but I could be a killer distraction.
I kissed his back and then his side.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Come to bed.” I tugged on his waist, and he lay down and slung one of his legs over mine. “Let’s pretend we just woke up and start this morning properly.”
His hands curved around my hips, and he tugged me up against the firm planes of his body. “How do you propose we do that?”
I rested my forehead against his and smiled, glorying in the desire that burned in the dark depths of his eyes. “Kiss me.”
He kissed the tip of my nose. The infuriating man.
“Properly,” I insisted.
He arched an eyebrow. “Are you saying that wasn’t a proper kiss?”
I rolled my eyes. “Kiss my lips, Ash.”
“Like this?”
His lips met mine. Soft. Chaste. Almost painfully gentle.
“Closer,” I murmured, the sensitive skin of my lips whispering over his. I cupped the side of his face, and his stubble rasped against my palm. I couldn’t wait to feel it elsewhere.
I ran my tongue along the seam of his lips, and when he parted them, I flicked it inside. He tasted of sleepy man with the faintest hint of mint from brushing his teeth last night. He groaned and deepened the kiss. My world shrank to that connection between us. At least until I felt the throb of his erection against me.
I rocked, drawing out a burst of pleasure from the friction between us. He grabbed my ass, his fingers sinking into my flesh as he encouraged me to move against him. He caressed the side of my neck, and my head fell back.
“I can’t believe I get to see you like this,” he rasped, wondering. “Fuck, you feel good. So goddamn perfect for me.”
He nipped the muscle where my neck met my shoulder, and I shuddered in response. He soothed the sting with his tongue and ghosted his lips up my neck and around the edge of my jaw.
Determined to level the playing field, I palmed his cock. It filled my hand, hot and heavy despite the thin satin barrier separating us. I stroked his length and teased the tip. My mouth watered, eager to taste him, but I held off. If I did that, I’d want to make him come, and I’d rather he did that inside me.
Instead, I pinched the fabric of his boxers between my thumb and forefinger and tugged it down, slowly exposing him. I wrapped my fingers around him, our kiss growing sloppier as he panted into my mouth and thrust into my grip.