Page 48 of Pure Abandon

“You have no idea.” He leans back on his heels. “You really should wear fuck-me shoes more often.”

“These are not fuck-me shoes and they’re not mine. Asher, I am a marr—”

“Married woman, I know.” There he goes, finishing my sentences again. “You know, just because you’re married doesn’t mean you can’t get spicy like this every now and then. It’s a good look for you.”

The air outside is cool, yet I can feel my skin heat up. Standing under the street lamps, Asher looks divine. The shadows highlight his square jaw and perfectly formed nose. His hair glistens and his eyes light on fire. Even in my five-inch heels, I feel small compared to him. He commands attention, and I can’t help but give it to him.

“Enjoying the view?” He teases my line back at me.

I blush in embarrassment. Was I really just gawking at him in public?

“It’s the lighting. New York City streets at night make people look so…” What’s the word?

“Angelic.”

That’s it. How did he know?

“You look divine standing there in the light. Pure,” he says before getting a very serious look on his face. “I meant it when I said you looked beautiful tonight.”

“You never said I looked beautiful.”

“I was thinking it.” Asher steps toward me, and I am vaguely aware that a black SUV has driven up alongside me. “Your husband is a lucky man.”

Asher steps around me and opens the back passenger door. “Devon will take you home.”

I open my mouth in protest, but he puts his finger over my lips.

“Devon takes you home and that’s final. I have some company upstairs to entertain, so I won’t be leaving for a while. He’s all yours.”

“Thank you, Alex.”

“Alex? What happened to Asher?”

“I only call you that when I’m mad.”

“Well then, let’s hope I stay on your good side. I like it when you say my name. Knowing our track record, I’ll do something to have you calling me Asher by morning.”

“Good night, Asher.”

“Already?” He laughs.

“Why wait ‘til morning? If it’s a given, I might as well just call you as you are.” I walk over to the open door, about to get into the car as Asher holds the door behind me.

“Savory or sweet?” he asks, causing me to turn around.

“Excuse me?”

“Breakfast. Do you like savory or sweet?”

It’s an odd question, but he is an odd man.

“Pancakes.”

Asher seems to find this answer acceptable.

“Sweet dreams, Gray.”

“Enjoy your Twinkie.” I climb into the backseat and he closes the door of the car.