Page 118 of Irresistibly Risky

“Yep. They love me. Just like everyone else.”

I roll my eyes, even though he can’t see me do it. “I’m almost home.”

“I’ll be there shortly.” I go to disconnect the call when his voice stops me. “And my queen?”

“Yes?”

“I plan to make good on my promise.”

My brows scrunch. “What promise?”

“To rain orgasms on your body. See you soon.”

34

The orgasms don’t come—pun intended—the way he promised. Instead, I’m met with a houseful of people. I open the door to the apartment after having to fight my way through reporters getting into the garage, and Fallon is here, rushing across Asher’s penthouse to hug me. With her arms wide and her raven hair flying, she slams into me, and that’s that.

His people are here.

They’re like your great-uncle whatever-his-name-is who shows up uninvited on Sunday afternoons and stays way past his welcome because you never quite know how to get him to leave. At least that’s them right now, because I’m exhausted. Mentally, physically, just cooked. And I liked the idea of Asher raining orgasms on me.

Like a lot.

Now those are on hold for the foreseeable future. Still, I love that he has his people. That they rally around him in his time of need.

Only no one told Asher they’d be here because when he walks in the door, he’s already stripping out of his suit, his shirt half-unbuttoned, and yelling out, “My queen, where is your pretty body? It better be naked for me to ravage.”

I blush about ten thousand shades of red and then offer his friends, who aren’t even bothering to hide their smirks, a what can you do shrug.

Asher starts on his pants only to freeze when he enters the great room and sees all his friends sitting here, eating, drinking, and hanging out.

“Uh, what in the actual fuck are you doing here other than cockblocking me?”

Zax gives him an unimpressed look. “You invited us, dickhead. Remember?”

Asher shakes his head. “No, I didn’t—”

“Last night when we were on the phone, you told us to come over for our usual postgame stuff,” Callan supplies, tossing a chip loaded with guacamole into his mouth.

“Oh.” Asher grunts. “I might have done that.”

“And we brought food, so the sex will have to wait,” Callan continues through a mouthful. “Sorry, dude, but I’m eating, and I have no plans to stop right now.”

“Same,” Grey agrees as he munches down on a chicken wing. These people and their food spreads are no joke. My stomach growls accordingly because I haven’t had anything to eat since this morning, and everything smells really good.

Plus, let’s be honest here, I could seriously use a drink after the day I had.

Asher rakes a hand through his hair and glances at me as he openly debates kicking his friends out. That is until something catches his eye, and it’s all over. “Is that spinach dip?”

“Yes,” Aurelia tells him. “I made it with Greek yogurt and extra fresh garlic, the way you like it.

He groans, his head falling back. “That’s my favorite dip.”

She puffs out a breath. “I know. Why do you think I made it?” Her blue eyes roll, and then she dives forward, covering the dish with her hands when he makes a move for it. “Uh-uh. You get no dip until you put your shirt back on. Man boobs are not appetizing.”

“Man boobs?!” he chokes and then smacks his chest like Tarzan. “These are pecs, not boobs.” His nose scrunches, his voice full of disdain.

I hold in my snort, as do his friends.

---