Page 24 of Flirt
Turning onto his long, winding drive, Asher stopped outside the towering gates to swipe something that looked like a gold credit card over a scanner hidden inside a sculpted, flowering bush. A green light flashed from the bush, and the gates groaned as they rolled back to permit them entrance.
“Okay, wow. That was cool.”
Sliding the little card back into a hidden slot in his visor, Asher shook his head and sighed. “You do know that most gated apartments have something similar, right?”
“Well, yeah.” He had lived in once such complex during college. “They’re not hidden in bushes, though.”
“Ah, yes, I see. The bush makes all the difference.”
“It’s just all so secretive.”
Archer snorted. “Scandalous, even.”
“Make fun all you want.” Easing his hand out from beneath Asher’s, he waved it around to indicate the huge mansion and the sprawling grounds. “You do realize most people don’t live like this, right? Your house is like a freakin’ resort.”
Asher considered him for a moment, rocking his head from side to side. “Okay, I’ll allow that. It’s still just a house, though.”
“Says the guy who built a bowling alley in his basement,” Cameron muttered under his breath as Asher pulled into a private parking garage at the back of the house. “How many fucking cars do you need, Batman?”
“Technically, Batman only has one car.”
He’d seen Asher the flirt. He’d seen him brooding, anxious, possessive, and focused. This teasing, light-hearted Asher blew all the rest out of the water. Every time he laughed, every time those deep honeyed eyes crinkled at the corners, Cameron knew he was in trouble.
This, he thought,this is the real Asher Dare.
And fuck if he didn’t like what he saw.
Asher drove around the circumference of the garage, passing eleven total vehicles—six on one side, five on the other—before sliding into an empty space next to a new, cherry red Chevy Camaro. The row of cars on their current side of the garage all appeared new, none more than two years old, if he had to guess. Across from them, however, the line of classic sport cars made Cameron’s heart race and his stomach flutter.
Sleek and shiny, their bodies gleamed in the harsh, florescent light, practically screaming to be touched and stroked like a new lover. They alternated black and white down the row, the symmetry oddly pleasing.
Black ’65 Ford Mustang with red racing stripes. White ’69 Dodge Charger. Black ’58 Chevy Corvette convertible. White ’66 Shelby 427 Cobra. Black ’61 Ferrari California Spyder.
All gorgeous vehicles, but it was the car on the end nearest the doors that completely took Cameron’s breath away.
“Holy shit,” he muttered, sliding out of the Lexus and hurrying across the garage to get a better look. “This is amazing.”
Thisbeing a 1972 Pontiac Firebird in a blinding shade of white with its namesake emblazoned on the hood in bold and varying shades of blue. He didn’t know whether to be giddy or green with envy, but as he circled the vehicle,he settled somewhere halfway between both. God, he’d pined after this car since high school, but it had never been a practical choice. No one bought a car like that to drive back and forth to a desk job. The commute alone would cost him a fortune in gas, not to mention the upkeep on parts and services from a brand that no longer existed.
“This is amazing,” he repeated, tracing his fingertips down the hood.
Hands stuffed in his pockets, Asher sauntered closer with a shrug. “I thought it was pretty.”
Cameron jerked upright. “You bought it because you thought it waspretty?” Building himself up to go on a long and detailed rant about appreciating the exquisite work of art, he sucked in a deep breath, but paused when he noticed the spark of mischief in Asher’s eyes. “You’re fucking with me.”
“Maybe a little.” He shrugged again. “Are you done orgasming over my cars so we can go inside? Or do you need a minute?”
His entire night had been a roller coaster of ups and down, but he was more than happy with where it had led him. “I’m ready.” Before he lost his nerve, he walked right into Asher’s personal space and arched his neck to press their lips together. “Thank you,” he breathed. “I’m glad I’m here.”
Jaw clenched, eyes dark, Asher nodded. They stood that way for a long time, both staring, neither moving. Justwhen he thought Asher would pull away, strong fingers tangled in his hair and jerked him into a kiss that seared him right down to his bones. It wasn’t sweet or hesitant, no more testing the waters or finding their way.
Asher kissed him like a man starving, eating at his mouth with lips, teeth, and tongue, leaving no crevice unexplored. It was heated and frenzied, urgent in a way Cameron had never experienced, and he never wanted it to end.
Too soon, Asher pulled away, his smile confident, his breathing only slightly uneven. “I’m glad you’re here, too.” Hell, even his voice sounded unruffled. At first glance, he appeared completely unfazed, but the sizeable swelling behind his zipper indicated otherwise. “Are you ready?”
Hard and aching, gasping for air, Cameron couldn’t hope to feign the same level of detachment, but he did manage a dignified nod. “Lead the way.”
Because he was starting to realize that wherever the man led, he would follow.
