“What? Too slutty? Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think,” she said, challenge in her eyes.

He didn’t flinch. “You know that’s not what I’m saying. This isn’t about the sex. As dirty as you want to get, I’m here for it. Believe me. But it’s about the rest of you. Your makeup is smudged like you’ve been crying, your whole body is stiff like you’re trying to hold yourself together, and most importantly, you haven’t eaten yet.”

Her lips parted in surprise.

“Hungry trumps horny, right?” he asked with a small smile. “My Kincaid file is thick, detailed, and up-to-date. And though I realize I’m enormously irresistible and no woman can look at me long without dropping to her knees and offering sexual favors, I get the strong sense you’re doing this because you want to avoid talking about something.”

She rolled her lips together, her gaze sliding away.

“So talk to me,” he said gently. “Then afterward, if you want to worship at the altar of Ashton, you’re more than welcome to suck me off as long as your pretty little self desires.”

She snorted at that. “The altar of Ashton? Please tell me you’ve never said that aloud to a woman.”

He smiled, relieved to see some of her real self peeking through. “Of course not. Their mouths are always too full.”

She rolled her eyes, and he let go of her wrists. She let out a sigh and sat back on her calves, her shoulders dipping. “You know, you suck at letting a woman distract you. I brought my A game.”

He gave her a grim look. “Don’t be fooled. You’re enormously distracting. I’m about to pass out from the restraint this is requiring. You’re wearing a thong, for Christ’s sake,” he said, breathless from the sight. “The teenage Ashton that still lives somewhere inside me just had a heart attack and died.”

She tilted her head, eyes narrowing. “Teenage Ashton wanted to see me in a thong?”

Shit. “Teenage Ashton wanted to see any woman in a thong, but he’s not our concern right now. He’s dead. You’ve killed him. Tell me what’s up with you.”

She groaned and tipped her face toward the ceiling. “Ugh, fine.” She closed her eyes. “In the short time span since I’ve seen you, I’ve managed to lose my job and my house. It’s been a superfun day.”

Ash sat down hard on the floor. “What?”

“Yeah,” she said, a bitter edge to her voice. “Mr. Yeehaw Cowboy from the bar went to my broker and told him that I offered him a better deal on a house in exchange for sex.”

The words were like a thunderclap in Ash’s head. “He did what?”

“Yep. As if I would have to trade favors for sex with him. Are you kidding me? He pursued me, was like a damn dog on the hunt. And he told my broker we hooked up during the transaction, which is a lie. Not that I can prove that. A fact my broker had to point out.”