Page 65 of The Best Men
And Ishouldknow how to do this. This is a negotiation, after all. But I have no clue howthisworks.
Something else nags at me, though. I don’t know exactly what I want in bed either when it comes to . . .
So I’m quiet because I don’t want to say the wrong thing.
Maybe sensing I need him to handle the conversational reins, he takes them and speaks again. “Let me help you. Do you want to know if I’ll top or bottom?”
Just hearing him ask the question fuels me. Ihaveto know. I have to say those words to him. “Well? Will you?”
He strips away the teasing from his tone. “Like I said yesterday, I’m good with anything. What about you? Do you want to fuck me or do you want me to fuck you?”
Images of us tangled together flash before my eyes. I drag a hand along the back of my neck. I am lava. “All of the above. I think.”
He brandishes the box of protection. “Then we really should buy these right now. And some top-shelf lube.”
“We should,” I agree, as he reaches for a bottle. There’s an issue though. “Trouble is, I don’t think I can move for a while.”
He smiles slyly. “So you really do like my big charm?”
I like it so much, it’s frying my brain cells. I’m a starving man at an incredible feast. Asher’s offering me everything and anything, and I can pick and choose at the buffet of his body.
“Sometimes,” I say, lying and he knows it.
He leans in and I expect him to sayall the time. But he doesn’t. Instead, he whispers, “Je te veux tellement.”
I don’t know French. But I have a feeling that means something likeI want you.
It also means he’s figured out his French turns me on.
“Same,” I mutter.
He brushes his lips along my jaw, stopping at my ear, taking his time with each word, letting them last. “Alors, prends-moi et fais de moi ce que tu veux . . .”
What the hell did he just say? I try to repeat it in my head, to make it stick.
I pull back. “What was that?”
His eyes glimmer with taunts. “Bet you’d like to know.”
I simmer. “You multilingual fucker.”
His gaze drifts down my body again. “Je te l’ai déjà dit, Banks. Tu peux me faire tout ce dont tu as envie.”
Once more, I try to press the words into my brain. Memorize them.
Then he waggles condoms and lube. “I’ll buy these, and you can meet me at the car.”
Asher turns and walks away, leaving me with my erection, my filthy thoughts, and my white-hot desire for the other best man.
A minute later—who am I kidding? It takes five for my dick to settle to walkable levels—I make it to the car.
Aviator shades on, Asher leans against the hood, cool and casual, tossing the keys in his palm. “Want me to take the wheel?”
“Yes.”
I spend the rest of the drive in Google translate, ignoring messages and notifications, desperately trying to unlock the puzzle of what he said.
I plug in every possible combination of sounds and words, and finally, when we pull up at the house, I’m pretty sure I’ve got it.
