Page 147 of Forbidden Hearts
“Stop eye fucking me, or we’re not going to make it to the tree lighting.”
I wiggle both brows. “Don’t tempt me with a good time.”
He finishes buttoning his shirt and holds out his wrist so I can do those buttons for him. “I should spank you for that.”
“I might like it.” I lean in and kiss his cheek once I’m done.
“Oh, I know you would, but we need to make a detour before we head to the diner.” He gives me a light smack on the ass before he grabs his jacket.
Now I’m intrigued. “Where is this detour?”
He holds out his arm and I hook mine in. “It’s a surprise.”
“I really don’t like to be surprised.”
“I know, it’s why I like doing it so often.”
I roll my eyes. “Ass.”
“From what I remember, you like assholes.”
He’s not all that wrong. I recall the time I called him that when he walked in on me singing. I drop my voice the same way I had that night. “Oh my God, I have to tell you about this guy I’m engaged to. He keeps trying to get me to marry him, and he’s such a dick.”
Asher spins, putting my back to the wall, and then runs his nose down my throat. “I’d like to do something to you with my dick.”
“Ohh, is it dirty?”
He pushes against me and nips my ear. “Very.”
I use all my willpower, which really isn’t all that much when it comes to him, and shove him back. “Too bad, no dirty dick time for you, it’s time for the Holiday Extravaganza.”
He groans, probably wishing he took my advice two days ago when I said we should feign sickness to get out of this stupid event. In two days, I have to head to New York City to work with Talking Hands, and I still have a lot of information to prepare. The program itself is incredibly complex. We started with a very simple group of signs like . . . hello, how are you? Where are you from? Where is the bathroom? And once that was perfected, we added more simple terms. The hope is that the system will continue to learn as we keep building the glossing index and translating it into spoken word. I told Bobby the other day that I felt he was extremely optimistic thinking this would be complete within a year. The amount of work we have to do means much more than that. Plus, I give birth in a month and I won’t be able to do much in the first few weeks after she’s born.
We get to the car, enjoying an extremely unseasonably warm day in the winter.
“I’m glad the weather is nice for this next part,” Asher says.
“What part?”
“The surprise.”
I huff, hating that he’s teasing me about it. “It’s bad enough you have this planned, but now you want to taunt me about it? Rude.”
He chuckles, moving down the long, winding driveway. “Shit!”
“What?”
“I forgot something.” He turns the car around once we get to the main road and then drives halfway up the driveway before stopping.
“Umm, did you forget where the house is?” I ask.
“Nope.”
Asher exits the car, and I’m starting to wonder if I’m going to be the feature of aTrue Crimeepisode. Where my fiancé snaps and then chops me up before burying body parts all along the driveway.
I contemplate locking the door and calling my father so I have someone who knows my last location, but then Asher opens my door and extends his hand.
As though he can read my mind, he smirks. “I’m not going to kill you, and stop listening to that damn podcast before bed.”
