Page 24 of Pretty Poison

“Were you looking for me?” Rocky asked before he noticed the bulky bag in Asher’s hand.

“Uh,” Asher said, then cleared his throat. “I was going to drop my bag in your guest room. Dinner should be here any minute.”

“That’s quick.”

Asher smirked. “Not really. You were in there for at least twenty-five minutes.”

They lapsed into an awkward silence as they stared at one another. The narrow hallway walls seemed to close in on them like one of those fun houses at a carnival. Rocky hadn’t liked them as a kid, and he liked them even less as an adult.

Rocky said, “Well, I—” at the same time Asher tilted his head toward the guest bedroom door and said, “I should—”

Their stumbling words only made Rocky’s discomfort grow. This was so unlike them. They’d been in tune from the very start, but now…Rocky smiled, hoping to reduce Asher’s apprehension. The doorbell rang before Asher could respond.

“I’ll get the door so you can drop your stuff in the guest room,” Rocky offered.

“Dressed like that?” Asher growled.

Rocky looked down at the towel riding low on his hips. He’d been so caught up in this weird conversation he had forgotten about his state of undress. “Yeah, maybe not. Give me your bag, and I’ll drop it in the room.”

Asher accepted Rocky’s offer and held it out to him. Rocky took the duffel bag and laughed when the weight of it jerked him slightly off-balance. Christ. It felt even heavier than it used to.

“What do you have in here? A dead body?”

Asher scoffed and waved him off before pivoting and walking away. “Get dressed and let’s eat,” he tossed over his shoulder.

Rocky quickly dumped the duffel in the spare bedroom and retreated to his own. He found a pair of ratty gym shorts and an old Braves T-shirt that was a decade past its prime. They were a perfect way to prove he wasn’t trying to impress anyone.

By the time he joined Asher in the living room, he’d separated the meals and had plopped his ass into Rocky’s recliner and dug into his food. The Braves game was playing quietly in the background. His husband narrowed his eyes and studied Rocky intently as he made his way across the room.

“Did you run out of clean clothes?” Asher asked.

“No, why?”

Asher continued to study every inch of him, and Rocky’s skin tingled anywhere Asher’s gaze landed until it felt like an army of ants marched under his flesh.

“Hmmm,” Asher said after a moment. What the hell kind of answer was that? He tucked into his meal, and Rocky’s clothes were all but forgotten. “This is damn good.”

“I know,” Rocky said smugly as he dropped into the club chair on the opposite side of the couch from where Asher lounged in his recliner.

“You don’t find food like this in Vegas,” Asher said after a few bites of ribs, macaroni and cheese, and green beans. “I could definitely get used to this.”

“Your waistline will too.”

Asher lowered his fork and glared at Rocky. “Are you calling me fat?”

“Not yet.”

“I’ll add extra reps with the weights and longer bouts of cardio to keep me in proper form.”

“For fighting?” Rocky asked, then nearly kicked his own ass for opening this can of worms.

Asher quirked a brow. “Yeah, for fighting, although the stamina sure comes in handy at other times.”

Rocky’s face flushed as image after image of Asher dominating him in bed flashed in his brain. His husband had a sex drive and endurance like he’d never witnessed before. Whenever Rocky erroneously allowed his mind to go there, he’d transition to wondering who was satisfying Asher’s needs in his absence. The mere thought of Asher touching anyone else sparked a fire deep in his belly.

“Ford.”

Asher’s firm voice yanked him back from the brink. Rocky blinked a few times to refocus his eyes and realized he’d been staring at his husband’s crotch.