I was crying softly before, broken for the little boys who were so lost, but now I’m full-out sobbing—gasping for air, choking on my spit, and blubbering out my response. I know he doesn’t understand my words. Even to my own ears, they’re nothing but gibberish. I wipe at my face, wishing I weren’t making such a mess of this.
“Hold on,” I weep, untangling myself from his arms and the sheets, running to the bathroom to clean myself up.
His arms close around me while I’m bent over the sink, washing my face. His lips climb up my exposed back, kissing each bump of my spine. His lips blaze a trail of fire until he reaches the base of my neck, stopping to breathe me in. His strong arms wrap protectively around my body. I straighten and meet his eyes in the mirror. My head comes to his collarbone, his striking, blue eyes gazing into my brown ones—begging me silently to let him in. I break our connection and trace the line of his arms to where they are lying against my stomach, his tan hands standing out against my fair skin. He cradles my bump—my child—within his strong hold. He holds me within his strong arms. And it’s painfully clear to me that if I don’t act on this, don’t let him and his strength in, I will live each day regretting it.
I turn, bringing my hands up his arms, and curl them around his neck. His hands move from my stomach when I turn and lie heavily against my hips, his fingers digging in when I move to stand on my toes, gaining as much height as I can to reach his lips.
“I need you,” I whisper against his lips, loving the way his eyes flash and his face goes soft seconds before he claims my mouth.
And with that kiss, that claiming of my soul, I know without a shadow of a doubt that I’m forever ruined for anyone else.
With that one kiss, that one moment in time, it feels as if I’ve come home.
CHAPTER 17
Asher
Her lips are the drug I’ve been craving.
The feel of her body against mine, the heat that is coming off her smooth skin when I trail my hands up her back, drags me under, and it’s like everything around us just vanishes.
I’ve never, in all of my thirty-three years, known a feeling like this before. I’m a complete stranger when it comes to relationships; the one time I tried was a disaster of epic proportions. But every instinct I have is telling me to hold on to this woman and never let go.
I knew before that I needed to make her mine, but right now, in this moment, I know I could never let her go.
As corny as it sounds, as much of a pussy as it makes me, I need her.
She moans and it’s like I’ve been shocked. My balls tighten and my cock throbs.
Fuck me, I can smell how much she wants me.
I pull back, a feral smile curling my lips when I see how dazed she is by our kiss. Her skin is flushed, her breathing is rushed, and her eyes are barely open. She just stands there and continues to play with my hair. Her fingers run through the longer pieces I’ve been too lazy to go get shaped up at the barber, and I make a note to keep it longer if she loves it. Fuck, it feels good.
“Sunshine,” I murmur, “once I take you—make you mine—I won’t ever let you go. You’re mine, baby. This body, this heart, and damn sure this pussy. I won’t take you until I know you understand what I’m saying to you.”
“I thought you didn’t do relationships, Ash?” she mocks.
“I didn’t. You’re a game changer.”
“So what are you saying? I’m your girlfriend?” Her thin brows crease, and I bring my hand off her hip and slowly rub the skin above her nose that has one hell of a cute wrinkle.
“Call it whatever you need to, Chelcie, but just know you are mine.”
She’s silent for a while. I move my hand and curl it around her neck, adding a little pressure so she knows to come closer. My lips kiss her forehead, her eyes, her nose, and finally, her mouth.
“I won’t share you. I wouldn’t be able to handle seeing you with one of those sluts, Asher. If we’re going to do this, I need to know that, if I give myself to you, you’re doing the same. I need complete trust and honesty.”
“And it’s yours,” I whisper against her lips.
Her eyes flash, the need that I feel burning through my body shining through those remarkable eyes of hers. This close, I can see the amber color that usually only shows when she’s mad overtaking the brown.
Burning for me.
“There’s no turning back,” I reiterate.
“One-way street, baby.”
I close my eyes and let that word, that endearment, wash over me. I’ve never had that. My mother damn sure never called us anything other than shit. And the only other attempt at a relationship never produced anything like that.