Page 95 of Proposal Play

“Long enough to know what you like.”

“I like this.” But that’s a lie. This is more than like. I’m absolutely enchanted by the way his hand shuttles along his erection, by the punch of his hips, by the rippling of his muscles.

“Good,” he mutters as his dark green eyes tour my body like I’m the only one he’s ever gotten off to. “So fucking good.”

His big shoulders shake. His hand grips tighter. I’m so jealous of that hand. I want that hand to be mine. To be my mouth. To be my body.

I’m obscenely wet. My panties are a waterpark as Asher slaps his other palm on the glass shower door. “You like to watch.”

It’s a statement not a question, but still, I nod. “I do.”

“You want me to finish?”

“Yes, please,” I say, and it’s like I’m begging.

Because I am.

With hard eyes and choppy breath, he fucks his fist. And when I say fuck, I mean fuck. His hips jerk, sharp and fast. And powerful too.

He fucks into his hand, his jaw tightening, his chest heaving, his filthy gaze locked on me.

The object of his desire.

Another pump.

His eyes squeeze shut.

One more.

Then, his whole body jerks as he tips his head back and groans a long, guttural, “Maeve.”

Did I just come in my panties?

Almost. Fucking almost.

Because that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, ever heard, ever experienced—Asher spilling his release all over his hand as he grunts my name. It takes every ounce of self-restraint not to shove my hand inside my panties and rub my aching clit till I come too.

But this is a show. This is a game. This is some kind of negotiation. And the man is in charge.

I don’t know who’s supposed to make the next move in this friendship-with-benefits game we’re playing, so I wait till his breathing slows, his chest stops heaving, and he opens his eyes. He tips his chin to the door. “Go wait in bed, Maeve.”

And I fly out of there, the memory of his pleasure seared forever on my brain. Along with the question—did he want me to walk in on him? He was warned by my friends to lock the door after all.

33

COUNT FOR ME

Asher

After I drag a towel through my hair and halfway dry off my body, I cinch it around my waist, not caring that droplets of water slide down my chest.

Only one thing is on my mind—the gift I bought her.

I leave the steamy bathroom and return to the bedroom where the sight of Maeve steals my breath. She’s so fucking obedient. Maeve’s lying on the bed, propped up on a mountain of pillows. Waiting eagerly for instructions.

Her expressive hazel eyes flicker with obvious excitement. No, there’s downright dirty glee in them. I stride over to the foot of the bed, press my palms on the mattress, and meet her gaze. “Nothing physical, right? Those are the rules?”

Her brow knits. She’s clearly confused as she asks, “Um, yes?”