Chapter Twenty Six

She had on one of those pajama sets that his mother always bought his cousins for Christmas, but had never seen any of theirs in that shade of pale pink, or that sheer.

Her nipples pressed against the fabric in tight little points, and the only way any male wouldn’t have noticed was if he were dead. And Asher wasn’t dead. He definitely wasn't, judging by the way his cock twitched as he stared at her.

They were the color of cinnamon, the exact color they had been in his dreams, which made him wonder if everything else about his dreams would be the same, and they were showcased beautifully by the shimmering pastel fabric. Asher blinked past the impulse to take his gaze lower.

"Hi" she said. She toyed absently with the circular charm of her necklace. The movement drew his eye to her breasts. He might have thought she was teasing him on purpose, except for the genuine confusion in her voice. Her hands dropped.

"Hi" he replied. "Are you alright?" he asked her.