Something wakes me with a terrible shiver. I open my eyes, finding it still dark outside. I don’t think it was a person or a nightmare that woke me so much as my heavy conscience. These days it’s been much heavier than usual.

Once I take in my surroundings—nothing more than mere shadows of furniture visible from a light shining through a set of double hung widows—I can’t remember who’s bed I’m in. When I pat the mattress at my side, finding my cell phone rather than a warm body, I let out a relieved breath. At least come morning there won’t be any awkward moments where I can’t remember some random guy’s name. Not that it happens a lot, but it wouldn’t be the first time, and the day before is one big blur of memories.

Pushing the home button on my phone, I wince when the glowing blue light blasts my face and a sudden headache rips through my skull with the force of a chainsaw. I swipe my thumb over the screen to enter my password. Over the picture of the devastatingly handsome man I can’t seem to let go, the current temperature for New York is displayed and everything clicks into place.

Oh shit, that’s right. Braden brought me back to Nolan and Sofia’s.

The reality that I’m still stuck in New York for a couple more days brings an unexpected rush of tears. Seeing my siblings doing exceptionally well, living in gorgeous homes while madly in love and starting little families, has been the equivalent of hanging around in the nine circles of Hell. It was already enough that my career has taken a major dive downward and the man I was sure I’d marry left me for a younger model. I didn’t need a glaring reminder of the degree to which my life has begun to suck.

For what feels like hours I toss and turn, unable to escape my misery. Blurry-eyed, I finally rise from the bed, discovering I’d passed out in my underwear. I throw on the blouse I wore to the church the day before, and start for the bathroom in search of a pain reliever. Dim lights running along the floor show a hallway filled with identical doors. Between my apparent confusion and the layout of Sofia and Nolan’s ridiculously large carriage house, I find myself standing in one of the other four guest bedrooms.

Staring at a dark-haired man sprawled out on a bed, stomach down.

Naked.

I suck in a deep breath as pleasure zings through my body.

Despite the late hour, there’s still enough moonlight cast through the windows to reveal favorable features of the massive body covered in colorful ink. I’m normally not one to go for a guy with tattoos and actually prefer my men lean, wearing tailored suits. But hot damn those thick muscular arms and that beautifully sculpted ass are not something you’d find on a businessman who spends his days sitting in a multi-million dollar skyscraper. The body can only belong to someone who sees it as a temple and puts in overtime to keep it in prime shape.

Something pinches in my chest when I imagine myself worshipping every inch of the man, running my tongue along his smooth back while my fingertips take their time exploring every glorious dip and bend. I imagine someone like him would be wild and commanding in the sack, unlike the quiet and reserved lovers I’ve become accustomed to.

I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt this unequivocally turned on.

My fingers slip down my stomach and past the lace of my panties, ready to relieve the tension building between my legs. I practically jump in surprise. What the hell am I doing? What if someone sees me? Then again, what if I’m still asleep, having an erotic dream? Admittedly my head’s a little messed up, and it’s been far too long since I’ve been touched by anyone else.

The beautiful man squirms around on the mattress before his head lifts. The whites of two eyes stare back at me.

“Angie?” Before I can clear the lump in my throat to answer, he’s springing to his feet, primed for action. Only I don’t think it’s the kind of action I’m fantasizing over. He looks more likely to kick someone’s ass. “What’s wrong?”

As he’s far beyond the point of modesty, there’s no stopping my eyes from dragging down his fine form to the impressively large cock thickening right before my eyes. I bite down on my lips, having been with enough men to know someone that size is a rarity. Not necessarily too long to be uncomfortable, but the right amount of girth to provide serious pleasure.

Realizing that I’m spending far too much time staring at his growing hard-on, my eyes flip back upward to meet his. Embarrassment floods my warm cheeks once my brain catches up with my throbbing libido.

I’ve been ogling Asher.

As James’s best friend, he spent a lot of time hanging out at the farm when we were growing up. Not only that, but he was only three grades below me in our painfully small school, so I knew him fairly well. Too well to openly stare at his naked body, no matter how impressively gorgeous it may be.

Even though he’s smirking, apparently amused by my gawking, his eyes still seem heavy with concern. “Are you still feeling sick?”

“I…just have a…uh…headache.” I look over my shoulder into the hallway, wishing it could swallow me up and save me from this nightmare. “I must’ve been half asleep when I was looking for the bathroom.”

When I turn back, his eyes are slowly running down my bare legs. There’s no missing the desire thick in his expression, especially when I glance down to see he’s become rock hard. I’m pretty sure he was hard while we were dancing at the reception, and I’ll admit it was kind of hot. The insane urge to jump into his bulging arms and let him do bad things to my body has me biting down on my bottom lip so hard that I expect to taste blood.

Our eyes meet again, and he frowns with apparent annoyance. “Let me throw some shorts on and I’ll whip up something down in the kitchen so you don’t have to deal with a shit hangover in the morning.”

I pull in a deep breath, ready to tell him my misery isn’t alcohol-related, but decide it’d be nice to have his company since I won’t be sleeping anytime soon.

“Oh right,” I reply. “James mentioned you’re bartending at Roadrunners.”

Eyes flickering to the ceiling, he shrugs. “It’s just a temporary thing until something better comes along.”

When he turns away, starting for a duffle bag on an armchair in the corner of the room, I’m given another prime view of his tight ass. A sigh slips from my lips before I can stop it. Next thing I know, he’s chuckling.

“There are other ways we could burn off the alcohol in your system. Two good looking people like us could have a lot of fun together.” As he’s stepping into a pair of boxers, he throws me a wide-eyed look over his shoulder as if waiting for an answer.

I’m not normally timid or easily embarrassed, but I nearly faint with the invitation. The desire shining in his eyes licks between my legs like a forked tongue. He’s a big, gorgeous hunk of a man, and he’s clearly not joking.

It’d be easy to give in and ask him to fuck me senseless. He’d probably be okay with keeping it a casual thing, meaning there wouldn’t be any pressure to stay in touch once I’ve left for Florida. There’s no doubting that I want him to have his way with me again and again until I’m raw. I could really use a little reason to smile. Strike that. More like a big reason—namely the one that just disappeared inside his boxers.

So why does it seem impossible to let the thought of John go, and have a little fun with another man?

Trapped by my indecisiveness, I’m unable to move a muscle as he saunters over to me. All at once I’m light-headed, and waver on my feet.

I fall.

* * *

I’m floating along in a cocoon of hard muscles and the most divine scent that reminds me of my favorite little swanky restaurant in downtown Miami—a blend of smoky embers and intrigue. When I move my butt, I realize I’m being carried and held against a warm, thick body. The skin-on-skin contact shoots warm tingles down my limbs.

My eyelids flip up, finding Asher above me. Holy Hannah, the man’s dark green eyes—surrounded by thick lashes, filled with silvery flakes that catch in the hallway light—are simply breathtaking. And he has the kind of undeniably strong, masculine features that turn heads. Square jaw, strong nose, wide cheekbones. Don’t even get me started on that thick, tousled hair calling to my fingers.

Though I’ve worked with dozens of male models, none of them had the natural charm or allure of Asher. In the chaos of the wedding festivities and my refusal to stay completely in the moment, I somehow missed how truly gorgeous he’s become.

But why am I suddenly attracted to a small-town bartender? I spent 18 years of my life counting down the seconds until I could leave rural Minnesota for something bigger. No way in hell I’m getting involved with someone who’s stuck there.

“You passed out,” he tells me, his voice just barely above a whisper. “I’m taking you downstairs to make you something to eat.”

“I passed out?” My voice comes out pinched as a knot of fear stirs in my belly. “I don’t think I’ve done that since high school.” When it was straight up booze involved and not a cocktail of prescription meds. My face turns cold when remembering all the fights with John that revolved around my party habits. By all rights I should hate him for some of the hurtful things he said to me the night he kicked me out.

Asher’s dark brows furrow. “You look a little pale. Maybe I should take you to the ER.”

I shake my head vigorously. With my luck, they’d want to pump my stomach and send me to rehab. “No, I’m fine. Probably just dehydrated.”

I’m thankful when the kitchen’s cedar ceiling comes into view and he sets my butt down on a stool. After giving me a once-over, his lips quirk with a grin. “You gonna be okay to sit here by yourself?”

“It was a fluke thing,” I insist. “I can’t imagine it will happen again.”

Asher looks reluctant when he leaves me to poke around in the 2-doored industrial refrigerator across the room. I can’t imagine why my sister and Nolan could possibly need that much cold storage space. Then again, John lived alone in a mansion with two home theaters and seven bedrooms, so I guess there’s no questioning the filthy rich.

“Scrambled eggs okay?” Asher calls over his shoulder.

“You really don’t have to make anything for me. I probably just need a glass of water.”

I’m so busy appreciating his tight body that I almost miss the carton of eggs cradled in his arms as he starts for the professional stove that I know for a fact costs more than my car. Sofia ordered it one afternoon while I was here visiting my nephew for the first time. It’s almost gross how people with that kind of money can spend obscene amounts without batting an eye. If Charlie and Nolan weren’t so kind-hearted and good to my sisters, I wouldn’t want anything to do with them. Between James’s fighting career and Sharlo’s inheritance, they aren’t too far behind.

“Angie.”

Asher stands in front of me with a glass of water in one hand and orange pills in the other. I blink heavily before taking them.

“Is everything all right with you?” he asks, watching me side-eyed as I gulp the water down. “James told me you were seeing some rich guy that took you sailing around the world. I know a lot has changed since we spent any real time together at your folks’ place, but for someone living that kind of high-life, you seem…I don’t know.” Setting his hands on the island behind me, he leans in closer. Close enough to kiss. Then his beautiful eyes flip back and forth between mine. “Miserable.”

Encased by his hulking body, my breaths come out in short little bursts, filling with his scent that’s all man. With any other guy I might feel threatened—trapped even—but somehow Asher makes me feel safe. And desired.

His breaths become heavier when his gaze drops down to my lips. Stomach in knots, I consider asking him to kiss me and do dirty things to my body that would erase all the sordid memories of John. My nipples become painfully tight in anticipation, reminding me I’m not wearing a bra. And he’s not wearing a shirt. We’re already half naked. It would only take a single slip of material if we both gave in.

The Asher hovering over me is no longer my little brother’s mildly annoying friend who liked to play practical jokes on me and Sofia. He’s a total gentleman, waiting behind those sinfully sick lashes for permission to make his move. And I imagine it would feel amazing to grip his hot buns of steel in my hands while he’s doing it.

“John and I aren’t together anymore,” I blurt, immediately ready to kick myself for being so transparent. Lowering my chin, I grimace. “So…there’s that.”

“Did this guy hurt you?” he snaps. “So help me, if he did something to you, I’ll hunt the fucker down myself and kick his ass.”

The imagery of someone Asher’s size pummeling someone like John Mathers, who can’t even carry his own luggage, strikes a funny bone. I burst out laughing uncontrollably, holding my stomach with tears of hysteria filling my eyes. It’s uncharacteristic of me, but for some reason I can’t stop.

Asher backs away from me, scowling. “I’m not joking.” His words come out like a raw, dangerous growl. “You deserve better than some rich fuckwad who’s dumb enough to let the perfect woman slip through his fingers.”

Taking a deep stuttering breath, I’m able to assert some control. “I’m far from perfect,” I say, dabbing my eyes with a finger.

“Not from where I’m standing.”

When I look into his eyes, a smaller bubble of laughter escapes me. “Nice line. Sounds like something from a chick flick. All the ladies back home must be tripping over themselves to get with you.”

“Maybe a few.” His serious demeanor finally breaks, giving way to a crooked, boyish smile.

God, he’s beyond gorgeous. Why am I just noticing this now, and why do I feel a blush coming on?

A light in the attached living room flips on and Asher steps back just as Nolan shuffles into the room wearing boxers and a t-shirt. “Thought I heard something.” While scratching his head, he looks over to the stove. “That smells awesome.”

“Angie needed something to soak up the booze,” Asher tells him, returning to the stove. He throws me a look over his shoulder that I’m not completely sure how to take, except I think I catch a glimmer of regret for being interrupted.

I’m admittedly annoyed with my brother-in-law for walking in and ruining what had the potential to be a fantastic time, but I’m also relieved that I won’t have to deal with the emotional aftermath that would follow a fling with my brother’s best friend.

I won’t be in the city much longer anyway, and don’t need any more complications in my already messed up life.