How sexy is that? His confidence just does something to me.
I reach up and run a hand through his hair.
He sighs happily.
Kissing the back of his neck again, I tick through my options. I could wake him up in the most time-honored way. With a blow job, of course.
Or I could just . . . not. As sexy as Mark’s naked body feels pressed to mine, it’s comfortable to lie here beside him. It washes away the aggravation. With him right here, I can feel my own annoyance drifting out to sea till it’s gone.
My mouth comes to rest against his shoulder, and I take a slow taste of his skin. The soundtrack of the night is his steady breathing.
My heart rate slows. This is nice too.
Nice. It’s not something I thought I was looking for. I don’t seduce men with the goal of cuddling them at midnight while the bay laps against the beach.
But it’s hard to deny the pleasure of this moment. I haven’t had a night like this since Garrett—
And, yup. There’s a lesson learned. I’m not the kind of guy who can pull off the nice, domestic couple stuff. I’m shit at it.
This is just a stolen moment. An oasis in the disco desert.
I lay my head on the pillow beside Mark’s and curl an arm around his waist.
Flip’s voice pops back into my head. What are you doing?
Shut up, I tell my inner Flip. He can keep his opinions to himself. I’m not bruising Mark’s heart. I’m not bruising any part of him. (Unless he asks me to. And these days, the good handcuffs are padded.)
I’m a gentleman.
And I’m going to be somebody’s godfather. Maybe that’s Flip’s way of nudging me toward his style of adulthood.
Maybe his comments were more about his big life changes than my shortcomings.
That must be it.
On that thought, I fall asleep snuggled up to Mark Banks.
30
GOOD COP, BAD COP
FRIDAY
MARK
The sun mocks me.
I mock me.
An hour after the string quartet visit, I’m still kicking myself. Spoiler alert?their instruments are tuned and they’re ready to play Pachelbel’s Canon in D tomorrow.
Hannah's wedding kicks off in twenty-four hours. Another day has been checked off the calendar. And what do I have to show for it? A whole damn night squandered.
“I’m officially putting myself in the doghouse,” I tell Asher even as Ramon calls us over to the tent, eager to show us his finished work.
“For being such a naughty dog?” Asher asks with a dirty wink as we walk.
“No, for wasting a night,” I mutter again.
“You’re still beating yourself up about that?”
“Yes. This is why I can’t have nice things,” I tell him as we march to the tent.
“Ahh, but who says last night wasn’t nice?” He flashes me a look that’s not . . . sexy at all.
It’s devastating.
His hazel eyes are all dreamy, like he means every single word. My body heats up like the sun, but it’s not from desire this time.
“You should have poked me till I woke up,” I hiss, trying to escape the way I feel when he looks at me like that—like I can’t breathe.
Asher cracks up. “Sleeping babe, even my fire pole wasn’t getting you up last night. And, like I said, it was still nice.”
Nice.
Such a simple, throwaway word.
A word we use for the weather, of all things.
Maybe that’s the right usage, since there’s a storm brewing inside me from that word and the way he delivers it, like that’s all he wanted from me last night.
But possibilities of nice are doing all sorts of crazy things to my head, so I slam the drawer on those when we reach Ramon, and he shows us around the tent.
“It’s the tent of our dreams,” Asher declares after the brief tour.
“Perfect,” Ramon says, then tells him the final price.
And it’s a bit too high. I’m positive that’s not the number Asher agreed to before, though.
I nudge Asher. Just a little. His eyes flick to mine as he chews his lip.
“So, uh, you quoted us a number about ten percent less, man. I could find the email,” I say.
Ramon stops. He frowns slightly. And Asher opens his mouth, probably to tell him that it’s fine. That it doesn’t matter. “We’re going to need ten percent off that,” he says instead, leaving no room to argue.
“But . . .” Ramon begins.
Asher straightens his spine. “That’s what we agreed to, Ramon. This stunning, beautiful tent we’re going to post pictures of and rave about . . . at a slightly lower price.”
And just like that, Ramon smiles and nods. “Yes, of course. I’ll make the correction.”
When the man heads off to grab his tablet, I put a hand on Asher’s back. “You know what? Negotiation turns me on too.”
“Does it now?” he asks in a silky voice. “I think you’re rubbing off on me.”