Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 148473 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148473 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
Asher stares at the napkin in awe, lips parted. “You have many talents,” he says, his voice low. “You can fold the towels anytime.”
I study the napkin a beat longer. It’s not a bad fan at all. I can’t believe I pulled that off.
Marcus raises his glass. “Impressive,” he says with an approving nod. “You’re full of surprises, Maeve.”
“Thank you,” I say, relaxing into the compliment, proud of my improv skills.
Asher leans in and drops a kiss on my cheek, his lips lingering for just a second longer than necessary. Under the table, his hand finds mine, giving it a light squeeze. It’s subtle, but the warmth of the gesture feels like reassurance—maybe even something more.
And I can’t wait to tell Everly that Asher said “folds” and it wasn’t filthy.
When dinner is over, I’m relieved Asher and I pulled that off. We head outside with the rest of the board, and I turn to Asher, smile politely at the group, and say, “Well, I should head out. The next bus comes in a few minutes.”
The words have barely left my mouth when I catch the strange looks from Lydia, Terrence, and Marcus. Lydia’s brow furrows slightly, and Terrence’s booming laugh is replaced with a confused blink. Marcus tilts his head, his curiosity almost palpable.
“Catch the bus?” Lydia asks, as if the idea is completely foreign.
I freeze. Oh no. They think we live together. As married couples do. My stomach flips in panic.
Before I can sputter out an awkward explanation, Asher smoothly steps in. “Honey,” he says with a grin, sliding his arm around my waist. “You’re still getting used to living with me. It’s adorable.”
He loops an arm around my waist, says goodbye, then steers me toward his car, opening the passenger door like a perfect gentleman. “I was going to drive you home anyway.”
“I’m sorry,” I say.
He turns to me. “Don’t be. You were amazing. You saved me with that swan fan.”
“And you saved me with the ride,” I say.
“We saved each other,” he says, then backs up and cruises toward my home in Hayes Valley, and the whole time I’m wondering what it would be like if we were really going to his place.
27
A BIG COMPLICATION
Asher
It’s weird pulling up to her apartment now. Weird because I want to walk her upstairs. Weird because I want to take her home. Weird, too, because we’re lying.
I’m supposed to be driving her to our home. Not her little apartment.
Since there are no parking spots out front, I pull down a tiny side street, past a park that’s closed at night, then cut the engine.
But I don’t make a move to go. I should. “I think we pulled it off,” I say.
“Thanks to me! For a while there I thought you were tanking us with your swan comment,” she says.
I’m still impressed. “How did you pull that off?”
“YouTube, honey,” she says, using a term of endearment. I don’t mind it at all.
“Very impressive, honey. Too bad Eleanor didn’t see us. She didn’t even see that photo I posted the other day with the bridge behind us,” I point out.
“If a hockey player posts a kissing photo online and no one sees it, did the kiss even exist?” she asks, going all faux philosophical.
“Good question,” I say.
“How do you know?”
Well, that’s an opening if I ever spotted one. I lift a hand and run it down her hair. She trembles as I touch her, and that drives me on. That, and the feel of her soft strands—god, I fucking love her hair. I drop a kiss to her forehead, lingering there.
It’s innocent as far as kisses go. But I don’t feel innocent when I touch her. I feel…powerless to resist her. “No one can see us now,” I murmur, pulling back and gesturing to the tinted windows in my car.
Her breath hitches. “No one saw us in the hotel room either,” she points out, like she’s taking stock of the kisses that weren’t for show. That weren’t for the public or for performance.
The kisses just for us. I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. I really shouldn’t do this. We have a no-touching rule and I’m definitely breaking it right now. But I think of those napkin fans that looked like swans to me. The way she pulled that off. Her dress. Her. Just her. “Good thing no one saw us in the hotel room when you had that screaming orgasm.”
“And you still haven’t dry-humped me in return. Shame,” she says, adding an eye roll, like she’s making light of it.
My dick isn’t thinking light of it though. My dick likes that idea too much. But is she hinting at something? Or is that only wishful thinking on my part? I glance around. We’re in my car, parked on a street, at night. But then again, no one can see inside.