Page 83 of Irresistibly Risky

“I’ve never done it before, so I’m happy to hear that. Incidentally, do you think you can wear the gold medal and nothing else?”

I smirk. “Football will never be an Olympic sport.”

I can feel his returning smirk against my neck. “Now you’re just crushing my dreams.”

“If you leave, I might let you try it on later.”

“Fine. Finish shaving, but I’m not leaving. Pass the shampoo.” I roll my eyes but hand him the bottle. “Do you think you want to move into my room?” he asks, and I freeze mid-swipe of my razor. “You don’t have to, and I’m not trying to pressure you before you’re ready for that,” he continues when I don’t reply, stepping beneath the spray to wash out the shampoo from his hair. “I figured it would make more sense since we both know you already like sleeping in my bed and clothes and there is always the risk of thunderstorms and nightmares that you’ll need me to rescue you from.”

I shake my head, biting into my bottom lip as I resume my shaving. “Are you always going to be this clingy?”

“Clingy?” he chokes, stealing my body wash and using it on himself.

I roll my head over my shoulder and meet his perplexed gaze. “You’re a bit obsessed with me,” I note.

He gives me that sexy, self-assured, cocky grin. “You have no idea how much.”

“I’ll think about moving into your room.”

“Just remember, I may be clingy, but I make up for it with orgasms.” He gives me a wink and then steps out of the shower. “Rooftop, Doctor. I’ll be waiting.”

He steps out of the shower, wraps a white towel around his waist, and then leaves. Lord, I am in a lot of trouble with that man. I finish shaving and showering, and then I get myself dried off and ready. Despite what he says, I am not going up to the rooftop naked. I brush out my hair and put on a bit of makeup, and then after deliberating for too long, I decide on a tank top with a shelf bra and cotton shorts.

By the time I wind my way up the stairs, my stomach is rumbling. Asher is sitting at a table between the bar and the pool, staring at his phone, but when he catches me approaching, his face lights up, and my heart skips a beat accordingly.

“You’re not naked,” he accuses.

“Neither are you.” He’s wearing a blue shirt that makes his eyes appear nearly the same color, and joggers.

He stands, and then pulls out the chair beside his for me, taking my hand and helping me into it. “I knew you wouldn’t come up here naked. It’s fine. I’ll enjoy stripping you down later.”

He takes his seat and then opens up the bags of food. My stomach rumbles again, much louder this time, and I giggle.

He cocks an eyebrow. “Hungry?”

“Shut up. It’s late.”

“It is.” He yawns.

“Tired?”

“Shut up. I worked hard today.”

He opens the bag of food and takes out a bunch of sushi. “I didn’t think this place delivered,” I tell him, lifting one of the cartons.

“They don’t. It’s Callan’s restaurant. Well, he’s a secret owner of it, but they deliver for me. Dig in.”

These guys, with their fame and money, are something else.

We both start munching down, too hungry to even talk. The roof is open, sending in a late summer breeze that feels nothing short of heavenly. The only lighting is two hurricane lanterns with fake candles in them and multiple strings of Edison bulbs that line the glass wall on the other side of the pool. It gives it a very romantic feel.

Dining on the roof of a building under the stars like this is nothing short of fantasy-like, and I know that’s what he was going for. He’s trying to win my heart and make falling in love with him irresistible. It’s easy to let him continue to sweep me off my feet, but I’d be a fool not to force myself to stay grounded too.

We finish eating, both of us contently full until he gets a mischievous glimmer in his eyes.

“What is it?”

“Want to go on an adventure with me?”

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