"Everything about you is worth describing," I murmur.
"Asher..."
"Tell me more," I press, my hand tightening around the phone. "Please."
There's a long pause, then her voice, softer now. "It's one of my old college shirts. Faded. Comfortable. The shorts are cotton. Thin."
I let out a breath, imagining it. "I wish I could see you right now."
"You shouldn't," she says, but her voice trembles, betraying her.
"I keep thinking about last night," I admit. "The way you kissed me. The sound you made when you forgot to be careful."
"Asher." My name comes out as a warning.
"I liked it," I go on. "I liked knowing I could pull you out of your head. Make you lose control, even for a second."
She's quiet for a long beat. Then she whispers, "You're dangerous."
"Maybe. But you like it."
Her laugh is breathless, almost nervous. "Maybe."
I shift on the bed, restless, my body already tight with wanting her. Lowering my voice, I whisper, "Close your eyes, Sunshine."
"What?"
"Do it," I urge softly. "Close them and imagine I'm there."
There's a rustle of sheets, then her quiet reply. "They're closed."
I exhale, picturing her in the dark. "Imagine I'm sitting on the edge of your bed. My hand on your ankle, sliding up your leg slowly. Just enough to make you squirm."
Her breath hitches audibly.
"Imagine I'm leaning over you," I breathe, "kissing your neck, your shoulder, my mouth finding that spot just below your ear that makes you sigh."
"Asher..." Her voice breaks on my name.
"You want me to stop?"
She doesn't answer.
"That's what I thought."
"Asher..." Her voice cracks on my name.
"Do you touch yourself and think of me?"
A gasp, then silence.
"I think about it. I think about you in your bed, your hand between your thighs, whispering my name,” I say.
Her breath comes faster now, uneven.
"Do it for me," I rasp. "Right now. I want to hear you."
There's a long hesitation. Then, the faintest rustle of fabric, and her shaky sigh.