Page 45 of The Best Men
It’s like my world has turned inside out as I kiss Asher St. James on a hot, sweaty dance floor in South Beach, music thrumming though my bones, pleasure humming in my cells.
And the best part of all this is that I know he wants this too. That I’m not fucking up too badly. The way his hands roam up my arms, strong and confident, says he wants what I have to give. The way he kisses me back, fevered and hungry, drives me on.
So do his hands that travel to my ass, curling over my cheeks as he jerks me against him. All my nerve endings fire at once in a loudsnap-snap, pop-popin my head. There is just too much happening in my body at once. It’s a complete overload of the senses as we kiss harder, more desperately, our cocks pressing against each other.
I can’t get enough of his mouth. His body. And I need so much more. The kiss grows more urgent, hotter, hungrier as our tongues skate together.
Nothing about the way he kisses me says there is a single thing wrong with my lack of experience.
Everything about his touch says he wants to experience more of me.
As he deepens the kiss, my hands rope through his shampoo model hair that I want to tug and yank, then let go of while I travel down his body.
And just like that, I’m ready.
I wrench apart, panting, horny, and dead set on the next thing on my list.
2A.
“Let’s get out of here.”
We leave in seconds flat.
16
ARE MY LIPS STILL STUPID?
ASHER
You know that saying:It’s always the quiet ones?Yeah, that. To my utter delight, Mister Spreadsheets is the best kind of sex fiend.
The eager kind.All that heat in the club, the way we rushed through the door, how we stumbled into my bedroom, kicked off our shoes, we are both raring to go.
At the edge of the bed, I jerk him against me, intent on dropping my mouth to his in a slow, languid kiss since I plan to show him just how fantastic my teasing can truly be.
From kissing to everything else.
But I stop, because I’ve wanted to dothisfor a long time. I reach for his glasses, gently remove them, set them on the nightstand.
Wow.
Mark without glasses is sexy in a whole new way. Those eyes shimmer with lust, and a touch of vulnerability.
Wait. No.Nerves.
But I know how to ease those, so I grab at the collar of his awful polo. “Of all the colors in the world, you chose gray? I hate this shirt,” I say, with a grin, returning to our favorite way to communicate.
“Those are pretty intense feelings for a shirt, St. James,” he fires back at me.
I have a lot of intense feelings right now. Most of them involve getting him naked. “But I bet I don't hate the way you lookoutof it. I liked what I saw tonight.”
“At the club or at the pool?”
“Both, Banks. Both.”
His grin is stupidly adorable. “Just take it off.”
Tugging at the waistband, my fingers travel under the fabric.
