His Curvy Gift

by Erin Havoc

  07

  * * *

  HAILEE

  Curling my fingers around the glass of wine, I bring it to my lips to conceal my amusement.

  “That was a smart move of your part, Asher.”

  “Ah, I definitely agree, for every move of mine is smart. But what do you mean?”

  “Doing the cooking part while I’m here. If I had arrived to find the food already served, I’d be sure you just ordered a takeaway.”

  He laughs, throwing his head back and shaking his shoulders as he finishes up some kind of sauce on a pan.

  The dinner with his parents is tomorrow and he’s decided it would be odd if they asked about some detail on his place and I told them I’ve never been here. So he invited me in and promised he would cook me some pasta to go along with wine.

  I know Asher. I know he’s detail-oriented and he wants to be sure everything goes smoothly. If we nail the acting, his mother won’t bother for some time, or so he believes. Anyway, he’s invested in making her get off his case.

  So I shouldn’t be enchanted with him taking me stargazing, or inviting me in to his place. I shouldn’t be overthinking watching this man cooking us dinner while I sip expensive wine.

  I definitely shouldn’t be drooling over the pink and red roses tied with a scarlet ribbon he’s given me.

  But here’s my heart, beating out of rhythm. It’s so natural to talk to him as he cooks that I have to remind myself of the nature of this fake-date over and over.

  It’s a job. He’s not in this for real.

  He doesn’t do feelings.

  And I shouldn’t be staring at his wide shoulders and strong back as if I could have anything with him.

  “Tell me more about your family,” I ask him, steering the subject away from us.

  He goes on about how he was raised by a strict mother and strict tutors, and I laugh on how that’s the reason he’s so hard on his employees. He agrees as he serves us and we clink our glasses and eat the delicious pasta.

  Asher tells me about his brother, Benjamin, and how they used to be close when they were younger, all the way to the first years of adulthood. How similar their voices sounded, so much so that they’d develop complex tricks on one another. How he’d call the girl Benjamin liked and confess in his place, and how that actually made the two start to date. How Benjamin would call in sick in place of Asher, and Asher would show up and confuse everyone. There’s a nostalgic glint to his face as he tells me such stories.

  Mid-dinner, he sighs and tells me about his brother’s heartbreak and how he moved into an isolated area and developed an almost hatred toward humans of any kind. Asher warns me of his ruggedness, and his mother’s rudeness and his father’s prejudices.

  I hear him out, and he tells me everything. I know he’s telling me way more than it’s necessary, way more than it’s needed for a fake-date. But I let him pour his heart out and I sink on his history because I want more.

  I want it all with this man. And this is the best I can do to feel like I’m a part of his life.

  A couple of hours later, after the family subject is long gone and we’re a little tipsy and making fun of one another again, I tell him I’m ready to go home. He walks me to his door, and even if I’m joking, he’s not laughing. His face is deadly serious.

  “Everything okay?” I ask, cocking my head to look up at him.

  He nods, “Yeah. Just thinking about tomorrow.”

  “I’m sure we’ll be alright. We’ve had an intensive. We’ll nail this.” I have this sudden will to hug him, but I hold it back. The wine is numbing my critical brain. I nod once, sharply. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “There’s one last thing,” he stretches a hand and stops me on the door.

  Asher bends until his face is hovering inches above mine.

  Times slows down and I'm not sure how to react to this. I'm not sure why he's this close, but I can taste the wine he had been sipping on the tip of my tongue. My throat dries at the same time my mouth waters, and I need to taste him.

  Just a little. Just on the tip of my tongue.

  I watch him swallow, his throat bobbing.

  “There's something else I think we should do. For the sake of believability.”

  I cock my head to the other side, but I don't move away. I don't want this spell to break.

  “What is it?” I lick my lips, and I watch his gaze running along, following the movement of my tongue.

  This is the very first time I let hope flicker in my heart. The way he's been watching me tonight, the way his eyes have been following me, and the heat? I don't smother that hope. I let it burn, though weakly.

  I want to believe he's feeling the same for me as I've been feeling for him. Even if it's just for an ephemeral moment.

  One of his hands come to my face and his fingers burn me. Bright and stark as a flame. “Would they believe a couple that has never kissed?”

  I frown, my brows dropping low over my nose. Well, it's the truth, they wouldn't believe in a couple that has never kissed, but I don't see why they would ask this. Unless they expect us to kiss in public all the time…

  My thoughts turn to smoke as I notice how much closer he has gotten.

  Asher presses his lips against mine in a soft kiss. Soft and quiet and calm, nothing like his personality. Nothing like the fire burning bright inside me at this moment.

  I'm taken aback at first, but I recover before it gets awkward. My heart hammering inside my chest, my eyelids flutter shut as he pries my mouth open with his tongue.

  He tastes like wine but I feel like I'm drinking whiskey. Each time I swallow his taste, it burns its way down my throat. It lights up my insides. The sweep of his tongue is smooth and thorough as if he wants to explore every corner and every inch of me before he lets me go.

  It's such an intense kiss, demanding as he takes the lead and guides my face to a side, lifting his hands to cradle the back of my head and devour my mouth, that my knees are soon trembling under his heat. I grip his hips, holding myself upright and almost dropping my bouquet, pressing my body against his.

  Any doubts I had about his feelings vanish as I press my body against his, and find a very real, very hard length against my belly. I gasp and he devours the sound, curling his fingers around my hair and pulling my head back.

  Sucking on my lower lip, I'm a complete mess as he abandons my mouth. My face warm, my hair tangled, I stumble back against the door. Asher's lips are bruised and swollen and there's a beautiful, awkward expression on his face.

  We stare, as if I have left him speechless.

  I lick the corner of my lip, where there’s still some of his saliva. It sends an immediate jolt of pleasure to the apex of my thighs. To the place I suddenly need him.

  Because I need him. Hard. Now.

  "Eight sharp then," his voice rings so loud in my ears it's like he's yelling. I blink up at him, understanding he means the dinner by the next day. "You'll give me a ride?"

  I nod, trying to swallow a lump in my throat. This man. I can't begin to understand him. The hard-on against me tells me he was enjoying the kiss as much as I was… So why then?

  Before I can ask, before I start to think too much and regret every choice I've ever made in my life, I whisper a "good night", twirl around and leave, the words I wanted to tell him stuck behind my teeth.

  It was merely a test and his hard-on merely a natural reaction. Nothing to overthink here. Nothing.

  This is not right. I've let myself get carried away. Covering my heart as I leave the building, I will it to calm down. It was just a kiss. It meant nothing much.

  It cannot mean anything more than that. Calm down, dear heart. This thing — whatever this is — is almost over.

  08

  * * *

  ASHER

  The taste of her lips on mine still linger.

  The feel of her soft skin under my fingers, and her heat against my body is still burning in me like a scar. I’m starving for her, my b
ody unable to forget the drawing of her curves against my hard press.

  And the way she pressed herself against me as she felt my hard length against her? I wanted to take her at that very moment. This woman, this glorious, smart, hot as hell woman that drives me insane every time she flickers her heated gaze my way.

  There are no doubts any longer. She wants me, and that just made it all the more difficult.

  I care not. I’ve never been a man to give up on challenges. And I make myself a promise. I’m having this woman tonight.

  Last night, I took a step back and a deep breath in and I watched her go. I wouldn’t press her, taking her by surprise like that. This feeling between us, how easy it is to be around her, and how hot I feel just to look at her. This is not a drill.

  I’m in love with Hailee. This is the first and the last time I fall in love with someone. And when I claim her, it won’t be a quickie against the door. No, I’ll take my time.

  So I draw my plans carefully as I get dressed. This whole thing with my parents now seems ridiculous. All I want is to tell Hailee everything, and kiss those plump lips, and claim that body.

  Hailee will be mine forever, and tonight is barely the first night.

  She picks me up on time, and we drive to the restaurant my mother chose. Hailee is dressed in an impossibly beautiful red dress that marks her curves and leaves me drooling. Accidentally, I matched her in a red tie and pocket square, and she grins at me as she pats my chest.

  “This was a nice touch. What a coincidence. This way we will look like a couple.”

  “Looks like one of us is a mind reader,” I tell her, staring unabashedly at her perfect profile. She’s painted her lips red, and I can’t stop wondering how the color will look once smeared on my cock.

  “Um,” she tuts, pouting her lower lip. “It’s definitely me. If it were you, you’d be horrified with what goes on in my head.”

  Her words give me an instant hard-on. “Please, do share.”

  She shoots me a side-smile. “Why would you want to be horrified?”

  “I honestly, from the bottom of my heart,” I cover my chest in emphasis, “doubt you can horrify me.”

  Her smile softens, and as she drives, I remind her of some last details — mainly my parents’ names and what they do for a living. Basic stuff.

  I can’t care less about what they’ll think of her or of us together now. I am narrow-minded and focused on the moment we leave, and I drive her to my place, and tell her everything.

  To the moment I claim her.

  I haven’t even put my hands under her dress yet, and my erection is killing me. Crossing my legs, I try to be discreet as she parks skillfully a couple of blocks away from the restaurant.

  “Is here fine?” She voices, tilting a brow up.

  I nod, “Yeah. My mom is obsessed with reading into people’s property. If we don’t arrive in a limo, she’ll have complaints.”

  “And if we’re too far away, she won’t be able to see it.” She giggles, “Smart. Guess you’ve had the time to develop this skill.”

  “That’s true,” I leave the car and Hailee follows me a moment later. Offering her my arm, I smile down at her angelic face as she slips a hand on the crook of my elbow. “Ready?”

  “As ready as you are.”

  With those words, we walk to the restaurant, arm in arm, and I’m counting the seconds to the moment I’m able to leave this place and kiss this woman until she’s gasping my name.

  It’s a Christmas dinner, and I have only one wish.

  And I wish for Hailee to be mine.

  09

  * * *

  HAILEE

  The moment we cross the restaurant’s door, I regret two things.

  One of them is having parked so far off. The first hints of rain drip down my shoulders as we enter. The way back will definitely be wet.

  The second is that I’m terribly under-dressed.

  What kind of place is this?

  And here I thought the place Asher had taken me on that first date was expensive. This one looks like a freaking palace.

  Asher doesn’t seem fazed, which is something I’ve come to love about him. He cares so little about money. It’s just something he happens to have. We’ve gone bowling and eaten old fries, and ate ice cream, and drank expensive wine, and he doesn’t care. He’s clearly in the moment for the experience.

  Side-glancing at his large frame, I awe at this man. How his morals and goals are so clearly set. How he never let money corrupt his soul. The feelings I have harboring for him flare in those moments, and I grip his strong bicep for a second. He gazes down at me and smiles, reassuringly.

  He must be thinking I’m nervous.

  Should I be?

  When I look to where the maître is guiding us, reality first claws on me. I first feel the pang of anxiety.

  His family sits around an elegant table. Not only his parents though — there’s a younger man I’m betting is his brother. Only his mother watches us as we approach, and her gaze is on me. Scrutinizing. Analyzing. Weighting every one of my pounds.

  Thankful for the makeup I’ve put on, I feel my cheeks warm up in a blush. Gripping Asher’s arm, I clench my jaw and steel my spine.

  I’m entering this battlefield, and I’m winning this war.

  When we’re close enough, the men look up at us from their phones.

  “Hello all,” Asher simply says before turning to his brother. “Unexpected to see you here.”

  His brother doesn’t get up but he cocks a brow. He’s definitely a scruffy man, very out of place in this luxurious ambiance. He’s dressed in a dark button-down shirt that marks his strong arms and shoulders, but that’s all. He’s in jeans and boots from what I can see. His beard is long and full.

  “You know how it is. I’m not into this kind of thing.”

  “Tell me about it,” Asher murmurs, low enough so only I can hear him.

  I laugh, catching the others’ attention. Asher motions his hand to the group.

  “My brother, Ben. My parents, Arthur and Lilia Hunt. This is my girlfriend, Hailee Bennett.”

  I should have anticipated it, but his words make my stomach churn. Stretching a smile, I nod to each of them in turn.

  “A pleasure.”

  Ben, Asher’s brother, barely nods back. His father, Arthur, watches me as Asher pulls a chair for me and I sit down.

  “I didn’t know you were dating, Asher,” the older man says.

  My heart hammers inside my chest. I’m facing this as a job interview — a soft smile to my face, a discreet crossing of legs, keeping my hands on my lap. All I need to do is to please his family so they won’t bother him on the subject any longer.

  And then we’re done.

  And then we’re done.

  The idea scares me. It’s been only a fortnight but I have loved every one of our fake-dates. It had all been very real for me. The honest talks and the laughter and the comfortable silence.

  I meet Mrs. Hunt’s gaze. She’s glaring at me. As if my sole presence in this table has offended her. She’s a typical madam — definitely past her sixties, her mouth swollen from lip injections and her forehead straight and stretched. She can still manage a glare though.

  She’s fumbling with a diamond necklace around her neck, her hairdo so complex I’m sure she couldn’t have done it by herself. Though I’ve put makeup on and dressed nicely, I can’t compare to the other ladies in this place.

  Yet, as Asher updates his parents on the status of the Crimson Lotus Company, his gaze drops to me again and again.

  “So where have you two met, Hailee?” His mother asks in a high-pitched voice, her lip curling as a waiter serves us of champagne.

  Asher’s hand immediately drops over mine on my lap. I hold on to his fingers.

  “I work for him, in fact.” I smile, trying to warm my voice the best I can. My blunt attitude will not help me now. “I’m in marketing.”

  “Indeed,” his mother looks at Ash
er with insult playing in her features. As if she asks him how dared he dating someone in marketing. “An employee. How old are you again?”

  “I’m twenty-four, madam.”

  “You’re young,” the older Mr. Hunt cocks a brow, his attention on me. I can see where Asher’s beauty came from, but it’s long gone in this gentleman. “Very young. Wouldn’t you rather date someone your age?”

  “Dad,” Asher hisses. His brother barks a laughter beside me.

  I shake my head, tilting my chin up. “Love knows no age. Between consenting adults, that is.”

  Asher glances at me with nothing short of pride, stretching a smile. His fingers clutch mine yet, and I follow a series of comments and questions about the company, Asher’s daily life and dating my boss.

  I’ve thought of all of this and I’m surprised I don’t need to lie. Every word that comes from my mouth is the truth — I admire him, we got along well since the beginning, we’re very professional when in the job. Asher nods me on and adds small bits on how I’m his best employee, and how he couldn’t imagine losing me because of how he felt.

  His words ring deep within me.

  They sound like the truth.

  “So even if you were risking in having a relationship with a younger woman, your employee, you decided to try it the same way?” His mother presses, lifting a well-groomed brow.

  “Yes,” Asher simply said, his grip on me tightening.

  Though his answer sent a shiver of joy rolling down my body, the way his mother’s face curls in annoyance doesn’t let me savor that for long. His brother and his father are back to their respective phones as the dinner rolls in.

  Asher drops my hand from his, and I keep myself from fumbling for his warmth again. My mouth is dry with how much I want to kiss him, but his mother is already clearly annoyed. I don’t want to make it worse.

  Though my whole body is aflame. I’m drunk on his words. On how the ring of truth clings to them. I want to lean on and whisper on his ear that I’m in love with him, and that all those things have already crossed my mind.