Chapter Seven - Addison
I watched Asher’s strong back muscles ripple and wave with each spoonful of the ice cream he dished out. Miraculously he already had all of the necessary condiments available and I planned to pile the toppings on in hasty amounts.
I was a sugar addict like my Aunt Sydney, after all.
When he finished putting away the carton back into his freezer, I took a moment to stare at his chest. The muscles of his pectorals and abdomen were all well-defined and taut. Asher was a man that clearly worked out and took care of his body.
While he had tattoos spiraling up and down both of his arms, his chest and back were bare except for a winged design along his lower pelvis. The way he had his jeans barely sitting on his hips, the V I loved and the wings pointed me in the direction he wanted my attention. I wasn’t even sure if he did it intentionally. But I couldn’t help but stare at what I now knew for certain lurched behind his denim. It was a monster alright, but the good kind. The kind I’d read about in some of my taboo romance novels.
“Want to take it in there?” he asked and my eyes jerked up to meet his, where I noticed his waiting smirk. He absolutely knew that I’d been staring at his cock. . .again.
“Take what, where?” I asked, my cheeks heating in embarrassment.
Instead of responding, Asher held up his bowl of ice cream with the heaping topping of whipped cream and chocolate syrup and jerked his head to the right.
“Oh. Yeah. That sounds nice.”
“It’s a little chilly, but we can turn on the heater in the solarium if you’d like.”
“Yes, please,” I eagerly agreed. As we stepped into the space, Asher flipped a switch and a slew of fairy lights glimmered along the frames of the glass panes. I’d been dreaming of stepping foot in this room since I saw it years ago when visiting the original owner’s home.
“Holy shit. This is beautiful. I am never leaving.”
“Okay,” Asher whispered as he came up behind me and placed a kiss on my cheek. I watched as he moved toward a small settee that I was certain would buckle under his weight, but it catered to him just fine. The inanimate object was probably thrilled to have Asher’s ass on its seat.
He grabbed a remote from the small table next to the sofa and flicked on an electric fireplace against the exposed brick wall.
“Come sit.” He gestured with his hand to the space next to him.
I followed his command and scooted as close to him as possible. Despite the glass panes, the impending fall night sneaking in on us was still chilly in the room.
From out of the blue, Asher settled a navy chenille blanket on my lap and I snuggled into the soft material.
“This is really nice,” I told him as I slipped the first spoonful of ice cream into my mouth. From below my lashes, I could see that his gaze was locked on my lips.
Slowly I scooped another spoonful and tried to be as seductive as possible as I lifted it to my mouth and maneuvered it toward my mouth. Except I was as graceful as an elephant. The melting mess dribbled from the edge of the spoon, splattering on my chin. I’d like to say that was the only casualty, but the cold liquid startled me enough that I ended up hitting my tooth with the metal utensil.
“Oh my gosh,” I said, turning away from Asher as I tried to wipe away the mess with my hand.
God, I was such a klutz. There was a reason my mom never let me help her sew any of her mock-ups. The first time I tried to use her sewing machine, I ended up stitching my own clothing into the material.
I shifted to set the bowl of ice cream on the table next to me, but of course, the spoon flung out of the bowl into the middle of the floor, splattering ice cream remnants across the floor.
Just as I dove my head into my hands, Asher stood and murmured that he’d be right back. A minute passed, and when he returned, he was carrying a plastic bag and an entire roll of paper towels.
“Can I help clean up?” I asked hesitantly. I felt so bad for making a mess out of the nice dessert we’d shared.
“I’ve got it,” he said, gathering our bowls and placing them on the floor next to the paper towels.
When I peered up from beneath my hands, Asher was kneeling back on his heels, an expectant look on his face.
“What?” I asked, confusion and curiosity getting the better of me.
“Lie back,” Asher commanded, his voice deep and husky. That was my favorite tone of voice from him. Whenever he sang a ballad that way, I got chills down my spine. Just like I did then.
I couldn’t deny him if I tried.
Just as I started to twist on the sofa, he stopped me.