My chest clenched. It was a casual question, but it was the casualness that made it so intimate. He wasn’t trying to care; he simply did.
I’d been too wound up to appreciate it at the time, but I suddenly remembered how he’d placed the pillow beneath me earlier. It’d gotten shoved to the side during my ministrations, but it helped with the pain that sometimes accompanied sex.
Even in the throes of desire, he’d been thoughtful enough to think of my comfort.
My chest squeezed harder.
“No,” I said honestly. “I feel great.”
I might not in the morning. I hadn’t had sex in ages, so who knew how my body would react later. But that was a problem for another day.
I also had enough wits left to understand there was no turning back after tonight. A kiss was one thing; sex was another, especially the kind of sex we’d just had.
We’d discarded our inhibitions, and we’d have to face the consequences tomorrow.
But right now, as Asher curled his arm around my shoulders and I tucked my head against his chest, I found it hard to care.
Tomorrow would always be there.
Tonight, it was just us, and I was going to enjoy every second of it while it lasted.
CHAPTER 23SCARLETT
I awoke to an empty bed and the scent of sizzling bacon.
The former was normal; the latter was unusual enough to rouse me from the dregs of sleep.
I rarely slept over at anyone’s house, and I rarely let anyone sleep at my house, so where did the bacon come from?
I reluctantly cracked my eyes open. Sunshine streamed through the curtains, gilding the pile of clothes on the floor and the glass of water on the nightstand. The space beside me was still warm, and the sheets smelled like sex and a trace of aftershave.
Sex. Aftershave. Asher.
Fragments of last night finally broke through my early-morning mental fog. The double date with Clive and Ivy, Asher showing up at my door after he’d already dropped me off, and then…
A smile spread before I could stop it.
It was the morning after, aka the day of reckoning. I should be worried, but all I felt were little champagne bubbles of euphoria fizzing in my blood.
I was still in bed, which meant my day technically hadn’t started yet, though bacon and Asher were both tempting draws.
I stretched my limbs. I was sore all over, both in a delicious way and a I’m-going-to-need-extra-Epsom-salts-for-this type of way, but it wasn’t bad enough to take precedence over my hunger.
After a minute of luxuriating in the quiet, I climbed out of bed and threw on the first oversize tee I found. I ducked into the bathroom to brush my teeth and make sure I didn’t look like a gremlin before I padded barefoot to the kitchen.
I stopped in the doorway, my stomach flipping at the sight before me.
Asher manned the stove clad in only boxer briefs. The muscles in his back flexed as he plated the bacon, and my stomach flips morphed into full somersaults.
Forget porn. This was what women wanted.
I soaked in the sight of his tousled hair and tanned skin for an extra beat before I made my presence known.
“Making yourself at home, I see,” I teased. I entered the kitchen and slid onto one of the island counter stools.
Asher turned, his face breaking into a smile when he saw me. “I figured you’d be less likely to kick me out if I bribed you with bacon, eggs, and sausage.”
A hint of sleep roughened his voice, which really added to the ambiance, in my opinion. I could get used to waking up like this.
He slid a plate and silverware toward me. I accepted it gratefully, my mouth watering at the heap of food. He’d cooked the bacon exactly the way I liked it—crispy but not too crispy, with just enough fat to stave off unappealing dryness. The strips glistened next to two pieces of perfectly seared sausage and a small mound of scrambled eggs.
“If you hadn’t forgotten the tea, I would’ve thought you were psychic,” I quipped. “You cooked everything perfectly. Thank you.”
“Ah, the tea.” Asher snapped his fingers. “How could I forget the drink of the gods?”
He grabbed a mug off the counter and placed it in front of me. Black tea with a dash of milk and sugar on the side. Perfect.
“Never mind. You are psychic.” I reached for the mug but stopped when he stared at me, his brow furrowing. Self-consciousness prickled my skin. “What?”
Had my bleary eyes deceived me in the bathroom mirror? Did I have a giant pillow crease marring my cheek or a line of dried drool at the corner of my mouth?
“Your shirt.” Asher’s mouth twitched. “Are you talking about the planet or the dog?”
I glanced down, confused, until I realized I was wearing my Justice for Pluto T-shirt. Carina had gifted it to me after I bought her a stuffed penguin from the Bronx Zoo Store during my holiday in New York.
My shoulders relaxed. “The planet. You see?” I pointed my fork at him, my breakfast temporarily forgotten. “You called it a planet. That’s because it is a planet. I’ll never forgive the IAU for demoting Pluto to a dwarf planet.”
