Billionaire Romance Boxed Set 2(164)

I didn’t wait for him to reply. Instead, I nuzzled closer. I eased him back onto the bed, from his side to laying down. Putting my head on his shoulder and my arm across his chest, I pressed my nose against his cheek.

“Maybe,” he said.

“It’s just cuddling, Asher. It’s nothing serious.”

“Right. I have nothing against the cuddling.”

I sighed, content. This was wonderful and perfect and even if we never had sex, I liked that we could be close. Cuddling, sleeping in the same bed, talking. Small, inconsequential pillow talk, fun and flighty. And…#p#分页标题#e#

“Jessika,” he said. “One thing, quickly. No middle of the night blowjobs anymore, please.”

My eyes widened and I stared at him in horror. “I thought you were sleeping!”

“Well, I was sleeping, but it was difficult to remain sleeping for fairly obvious reasons.”

“I’m so sorry,” I murmured, the words running together into one jumbled mess.

He laughed. “It’s alright,” he said. “I mean, it’s not exactly alright, but it’s kind of a fantasy, you know? I think every guy thinks about that. It’s exciting to think about getting a blowjob in your sleep. Maybe waking up to it? Half asleep and drowsy with your dreams and reality mixing together. It…”

“Did you like it?” I asked; a whisper. “I won’t do it again, I swear, but did you like it?”

He patted my head and brushed my hair between his fingers. “It was exciting,” he said. “I shouldn’t say this, but I thought about it when, you know, tonight. The TV thing. Honestly, I’m just—I don’t know why I’m saying this—but last night, that was indescribable. It was really amazing.”

“But don’t do it again,” I said.

“No,” he said. “Seriously, it was really good, but don’t do it again.”

A pause, minutes of nighttime passing us by. “Asher,” I said, reserved. I felt awkward, but I needed to ask him this. If he was open with me, I felt like I should be able to do the same with him.

“Yes?”

“If Beatrice agrees with the child, the surrogacy and everything, do you think that—and I understand if you don’t like this idea, but I just want to ask it—would it be alright if I visited sometimes? I wouldn’t tell the child or act like a mother or anything, but I’d like it if I could come visit. Just to see.”

He kissed my forehead. A light, simple kiss. “I think that’s alright,” he said. “You could probably babysit if you wanted. During the days, or after school. Now that I think about it, it’d be easier. If you want to, that is. I’d pay for your services, of course. Please don’t take offense to that. I’m not trying to cheapen it or anything, but I feel like if you did that then I’d like to pay you. Even if it was something simple, like letting you stay…”

He trailed off, but only for a moment.

“This is an idea, and purely logical and unemotional. I want to preface it with that. But, if you stayed in the guest house, everything would be easier. You can do whatever you like, and I could hire another babysitter if you want to have an ordinary job. I’m all for woman’s independence. You don’t even have to do this if you don’t want to. If you like, since it would make it easier for breastfeeding and everything like that, you could stay in the guest house, though. A live in nanny of sorts. I mean that in the most empowering of ways.” He sighed, defeated. “I sound like a horrible chauvinist, don’t I?”

“No,” I said, kissing his cheek. “You sound like a caring, thoughtful person. You sound like you’re thinking about what’s best for your child and you’re offering someone something very nice and wonderful, even though that someone only asked you for a simple request that you didn’t even have to agree with. You’re offering a choice, and women’s independence is all about choices, right?”

“So you’re saying I’m a great example of a feminist?” he asked, teasing.

“I don’t know if I’d go that far, but I don’t think you’re a misogynist or a chauvinist by any stretch.”

“Oh, good. I was worried for a second.”

We lay in silence, thinking. About each other, maybe, or not that at all. I thought about Asher, at least, and I imagined at least a little part of him thought about me. Dazing, dreaming, closing my eyes, I cuddled with him and imagined possibilities.



…



When I woke up in the morning, Asher was gone. I yawned, stretching, and looked towards the bathroom, thinking I might see him there shaving, showering, or something. But, no, he was gone. Downstairs, perhaps? Making breakfast? Any moment now, after a knock on the door, he would swoop in while carrying a tray of food. Eggs, bacon, sausage, diced fruit with toast, pancakes?