Asher chuckles and hovers his mouth to my ear. “I love watching him squirm.” He kisses my temple then turns back to the table and faces Liam. “Didn’t realize you wanted to lose so badly.”
I’m stunned, my feet cemented to the floor. Was Asher going to take me into a bedroom? What would happen then? Would we kiss? Would he test his boundaries, even with no one around? Better question, do I want him to?
Liam smirks and rotates both ping pong balls in his palm. “I’m just getting warmed up.”
“Easy there, killer.” Asher’s hands settle on my waist. They’re like fire against my skin, sending a heatwave throughout my body.
I, apparently, am what he calls a lightweight, because after two mini beers my head felt lighter. After the third, I couldn’t stop smiling. I may be the worst beer pong player in the history of the game but, by that point, I didn’t care. Before long, Asher and I had two cups left on Liam’s side of the table. All courtesy of Asher’s killer skills. I landed my ball into the target once tonight. Go me!
Liam, of course, made his ball into the last cup on our side of the table, which meant he won. I took that cup about three minutes ago, beer number four, and now the world moves a half-second slower than my brain.
I turn my head to the left and giggle as I watch the room catch up to me. I’m the fucking Flash, faster than everyone else in the house. I speed from the patio to the kitchen in less than a second, then watch as everyone tries to catch up.
“Up you go.”
The floor separates from my feet and I’m suspended in the air. I’m not flying, although if drinking could make that happen I’d be fucking drunk all day every day.
Asher’s fingers grip my sides as he sets me on the counter. He rests his hands on my knees and pulls my legs apart to stand between them. “Are you good?”
“I’m fucking fabulous.”
Asher’s brows knit together. He’s cute like this, all pouty and protective. I tap him on the cheek and notice how baby smooth his skin feels under my fingers. I bet it would be even smoother if I licked him.
I refrain, laughing at my ridiculous thoughts, and say, “You’re adorable. You know that?”
His lips lift into a delicate smile. Such a nice smile! “You need water.”
“Nooo.” I pout, reaching for Asher’s hand and holding it in both of mine. “Don’t leave me. I’ll be lonely when you go.”
“I’m just walking to the fridge.” He shakes free of my grasp and rounds the counter. I watch as he opens the fridge and procures a water bottle. My jaw falls open in amazement. How did Asher know there would be water in there? He crosses the kitchen again and returns to his place between my legs. He twists the cap off, then hands the bottle to me. “See. I’m still here.”
“You know...” I tip the bottle but miss my mouth. Cold water spills down my shirt. Normally, I’d be freaking out. I hate being dirty or wet, always have. Don’t get me started on sand. The tiny grains sticking to my skin...ugh. It’s the main reason I don’t like the beach, but beer does funny things. I find that I don’t care if my shirt is wet and laugh.
“You’re drunk.”
“Am not.” I giggle. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but that’s something else I don’t care about right now.
“What are we, eight again?” Asher is trying to sound mad but I think he finds me amusing. His lips twitch, like he's fighting a smile and his
hands are on my knees.
My skin tingles. The sensation climbs up my thighs and into my stomach. If I thought there was an inkling of attraction between us at the house before, it’s been magnified tenfold. I blame the beer, but just like everything else I don’t care. Asher is hot. No, he’s sexy. I should be able to appreciate all the sexiness my fake boyfriend has to offer.
I smile and shrug, taking a sip of water, this time finding my mouth. The cold liquid slithering down my throat feels better than I anticipated. I’m suddenly aware of how hot I am and pour some of the cold water down the back of my neck.
“You’re a hot mess tonight.” Asher sighs and shakes his head. “Give me your phone.”
“Oh, are we taking a picture?” I shift onto one hip and pull it out of my back pocket. I like pictures, although I never seem to take any. What’s up with that? Freshman year, my iPhone had so many pictures on it, Mom had to buy additional cloud storage. I can’t remember the last picture I’ve taken this year.
Asher holds his hand out. Palm up. “Sure, after it unlocks.”
I give Asher my iPhone and he lifts the camera to my face. I smile but I realize this wasn’t a photo op. He was using facial recognition to unlock it.
Asher twists the screen back towards him. His thumbs tap against the glass for a few moments, and then he turns around. His back presses against my chest and for a moment, I don’t know what to do. There’s a churning at the bottom of my stomach that is not harmless butterflies. It’s pure desire, something I have no business feeling for Asher, but it’s there whether or not I want it to be.
“Smile for the camera.”
I push my doubts away, drape my arms over Asher’s shoulders, and grin. Liam hated taking pictures with me. He’s always making some excuse to get out of it or he’ll pull someone else into the shot. The photo sitting on my desk is the only one I have of the two of us that’s even remotely recent.