Page 5 of Flirt
“Hey,” a voice whispered in his ear. “Nice shoes. Wanna fuck?”
Asher glanced down at the pointed toes of his leather boots and grinned. “Does that line ever actually work?”
A slender man with light-brown hair, freckled skin, and smirking lips sidled around him to slide onto the empty stool to his right. “Not yet, but I figure the law of averages says it’s bound to eventually.” He batted his thicklashes as he leaned back against the bar. “So, who are you waiting for?”
Asher jerked. “No one.”
“Right, because you always stalk the door like this. Come on, Ash.”
“Luke,” he growled in warning.
“Asher,” Luke sang right back. “Tell me.”
Unfortunately, the object of his—okay,obsession—chose that moment to stroll through the door. Asher inhaled deeply, his nostrils flared, and every ounce of blood in his body drained right to his dick. None of which went unnoticed by Luke.
Spinning around, he scanned the crowd near the entrance, and Asher knew the moment his gaze landed on Cameron. “Oh, he’s nice. What’s his name?”
Asher furrowed his brow but bit the inside of his cheek to hold back the words on his tongue. Luke McKibbon might be his best friend—his only friend—but he didn’t like the way the asshole’s whole damn body lit up while he talked about Cameron. Moreover, he was stupidly angry about Luke’s description. Cameron was far more thannice.
Raking his fingers through his hair, Asher leaned back against the bar and groaned. What the hell was wrong with him? He didn’t know Cameron from the man in the moon, and judging by their single interaction, he would probably have more luck talking the latter into his bed.
What is it about this guy?
Smaller than average, Cameron stood nearly a head shorter than Asher’s own six-feet-three, but his sleek frame was all hard lines and lean muscles. Fuck, everything about him was a contradiction. His jaw was sharp enough to cut glass, but his lips looked so soft and plump and…bitable. He kept his chocolate-brown locks styled conservatively—just a little longer on top and parted smartly to one side—which matched his stuffy, buttoned-up appearance, but there was nothing proper about those eyes.
Fuck, those eyes.
Irises that icy blue should feel cold and distant, not as if they could pierce into his soul and scorch him from the inside out with one fleeting glance. Cameron Stone was a goddamn walking, talking mystery, and one Asher needed to unravel if he hoped to maintain his sanity.
“Ash?” Luke asked, clearly unaware of his internal meltdown.
“Cameron,” he answered grudgingly. “Cameron Stone.”
Luke nodded but didn’t look at him. “Where’d you meet him?”
“My place.” True enough, even if he’d withheld a few crucial details.
That caught Luke’s attention, and when he turned, his lips had curved into a triumphant grin. “Does that mean you’re finished with him?”
Not trusting himself to say anything remotely casual or even smart, Asher stayed silent.
“What’s he do?” Luke’s smile faded, and his expression melted into something a little more contemplative. “He looks like an accountant.”
Asher snorted. His friend’s description wasn’t far from the mark. Swerve didn’t have a dress code, which most patrons assumed meant wearing as little as possible. Even Asher’s tight jeans and tighter black T-shirt could be considered overdressed for the club. With his pressed slacks, starched button-down in a boring shade of gray, and shiny black loafers, Cameron might as well have hung a sign around his neck that announced him as fresh meat.
“I didn’t stop to get his credentials,” he answered Luke with a shrug. There, that sounded like something he would say, even if he really wanted to know the answer himself.
“Who’s he with?”
Until that moment, Asher hadn’t even noticed the man standing next to Cameron, but he should have. Hell, the guy practically stood on top of him, his hand resting on Cameron’s shoulder with a familiarity that made Asher’s stomach burn.
Jesus, calm the fuck down, Ash. You don’t even know this guy.
Great, now he was talking to himself. In second person. Wonderful.
“Hold up.” Luke cocked his head to the side, a frown tugging at his mouth. “Why are you waiting for him? Everyone knows you don’t do seconds.”
“I’m not waiting for him.”
