Page 37 of Captivated By You

I had a sinking feeling that redrawing that line was going to be an insurmountable challenge. Asher was a force of nature, a heady mix of a powerful man who was also gracious, considerate, big-hearted, and respectful—leaving aside the pregnancy insult. I guessed I couldn’t blame the guy. Under the circumstances, a lot of men might have jumped to the same conclusion. At least his apology had come lightning fast.

For the tenth time, I reread the text he’d sent me ahead of our “date.”

Asher: I’ll pick you up at 5 o’clock.

Who went to dinner at five o’clock? Maybe the rich ate early. And what was with the brief text? Not a single hint of what to wear or where we were going. It made dressing for the occasion tricky. Did I go full-on formal and look like an idiot if we ended up at some greasy burger joint? Or dress down and have everyone stare at me as if I were a homeless charity case if he decided on somewhere smart?

I texted him back.

Me:What shall I wear?

The reply shouldn’t have surprised me.

Asher: Nothing?

His charm knew no bounds.

Me: Fine. Trash bag it is.

Asher: You’ll look beautiful in whatever you choose.

Goddamn him. This wasn’t helping. In the end, I decided that overdressing for a burger joint was the lesser of the two evils and chose a square-necked emerald dress with wide shoulder straps, a not-too-slutty slit up one side, and a nipped-in waist that gave me a shapely flare to my hips. The dress had a hint of cleavage, but when I bent over, my tits contained themselves. No spillage.

As five o’clock approached, a dart of anxiety rushed through me. I took several deep, calming breaths. This was just dinner. As friends. And really, not even that. Acquaintances. Who’d fucked. Several times.

Jesus, Kiana. Quit with the visuals.

I distracted myself by poring over my meager jewelry box to pick out accessories. I sighed at the limited choices. In the end, I settled for a thick gold rope necklace and drop earrings. The earrings were genuine gold, a Christmas present from Mom and Dad a couple of years ago. The necklace was as fake as a porn star’s gasps of pleasure.

I was putting my shoes on when a rap at the door sent me leaping about ten feet in the air. A slight exaggeration, but sets the scene for how my nerves were running rampant. I shouldn’t have agreed to this.

He was too beautiful, toonice. Too fucking hot.

What were the chances I’d spend the whole evening with my thighs clamped together and my vagina urging me to initiate round two?

Not going to happen.

Almost tripping over my dress as I stood, I made it to the door without falling on my face. I opened it—and lost the ability to breathe.

Asher, the gorgeous man, was standing outside my apartment door dressed in a well-cut navy suit…

And the tie he’d worn the night we’d met.

A shiver ran through me, setting my blood on fire. My knees trembled as rapid-fire images of Asher removing that tie and placing it over my eyes assailed me. He ran his hand over it, his eyes glimmering. He knew I recognized it, and the effect it had on me as memories came rushing back.

Part of me wanted to gawp at him with drool dribbling from the corner of my mouth. The other part of me bordered on punching him. What if I’d gone with the “dress down” option? I’d have looked like some hobo compared to this… this… hunk standing before me.

I found my voice. “You look… wow. Nice tie.”

“I wore it for you.”

“Is that so?”

“You said to impress you. I hoped that remembering this was the tie I wore when we first met would go some way to doing that. What’s your assessment so far?”

I rubbed my lips together. “I’d say a five.”

“Out of ten?”

---