Page 65 of Irresistibly Risky

Me: Stop. I know what you’re doing.

Mom: He also couldn’t stop talking about you. He asked me about your favorite color and flower and food and if I had a video of your face when you found out you won the Olympics. He wanted a video of your face, Wynter. For God’s sake, why haven’t you married him already? He’s a postcard of a man. A total dream.

Me: You just proved my point exactly. Postcards and dreams show the best versions of themselves and are far from reality. No thanks.

Mom: Did it ever occur to you that he’s a Gary and not a Joe?

I grumble a whole new version of a swear, making up new ones as I spew them. Because yes, it obviously occurred to me. I’m not blind, and I’m not totally ignorant of Asher. I just don’t want to believe he’s one way and then be proven wrong because then Mason suffers. I’ve been duped more than once, and that is not okay with me when it comes to my son. I want Asher to love him, and I want Mason to be his number one.

And I don’t want Asher to feel obligated to me because I’m the mother of his child. Asher is a golden retriever. He falls in love easily, and he falls in love quickly, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t love any new owner who came along and petted him just right.

He’s an attention whore, and men like that don’t stay loyal.

Thirty minutes later, I’m back at Asher’s place and find it eerily silent. I check the app, and they’re not in the playroom or Mason’s bedroom. “Asher?”

No answer, and my heart rate spikes to unfounded decibels.

I start racing from room to room, coming up empty each time, until I hear a thick snore.

What in the world?

I follow the sound as Asher lets out yet another noise and find him passed out on his great room sofa with Mason fast asleep on his chest, pressed against his good shoulder, wearing only a diaper. Asher has his arm fastened around him like a seatbelt—like a football he’d never dare fumble.

My heart twinges, and my eyes immediately water.

It’s the sweetest image I’ve ever seen in my life.

I pull out my phone and snap a picture of my son fast asleep on his daddy’s chest, curled tightly into him.

I step closer and run my fingers first through Mason’s hair and then Asher’s, which is the same exact color. “Are you the real deal, or the man who will scar me and leave both me and our child in ruin?”

Asher stirs, his eyes blinking open, and when he sees me standing over them, he smiles.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his voice thick and crackly with sleep. Locking his arm tighter around Mason, he shifts, taking me in. “Wow.”

“What?”

I glance down at myself. I’m wearing leggings and a fitted long-sleeved sports shirt.

“Nothing. You just look…” He laughs, and my gaze flashes back up to his.

“What?”

He hitches up his shoulder, his smile turning impish. “Hot. Like seriously hot. The whole just after a workout thing is… yeah. It’s my favorite look on a woman, but the way you wear it…” He laughs again in a slightly self-deprecating way. “Let’s just say it’s a good thing our son is asleep on my chest, or his mother would be in serious trouble.”

“You’re flirting again,” I accuse, but there is no hiding the butterflies his words elicit.

“Oh, no, sweetheart. This isn’t flirting. This is stating a straight-up fact. I’ve seen you in a dozen different ways, and each one I can’t get enough of, but you like this is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

I roll my eyes in disdain, even though I doubt I’m selling it. “Keep it in your pants, player.”

My tone was sarcastic, but his is anything but as he says, “For now, I have to. But tonight, when I’m in bed alone and my cock is painfully hard and wanting you, I’m going to picture you like this. Then I’m going to picture pulling off those tight-as-sin leggings and having you sit on my face.”

“Asher!” Holy hell. I flush and then flush some more, my pussy aching and empty feeling. My nipples harden, and I know he can see that through my sports bra and thin shirt.

“Have you ever done that?” he persists, his voice dipping. “Sat on a man’s face while he ate you out like he was starving for you?”

“Knock it off.” I slide my hands under Mason, picking him up and bringing him into my arms because I need the distraction, and nothing is more distracting and less sexy than having your baby in your arms.

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