And he’s not the kind of guy who would be threatened by me calling him that either. He’s secure enough in his masculinity to just take the compliment, probably give me one back, and go about his day.
His features are perfectly balanced, elegant and aristocratic, and his hair is the most gorgeous shade of rich, chestnut brown. His lips are full and eminently kissable. But what’s making me want to devour him right now isn’t his lips, but the way he’s staring at me.
He looks… overwhelmed. Grateful.
And so fucking hungry.
“Are you sure, Elle?” he whispers, moving his head forward just slightly so our noses brush together. “God, I’ve wanted you for so long. But I can wait. If you need more time…”
I don’t.
I appreciate every bit of time he’s given me, the fact that he and the others have waited while I figured my shit out and worked my way through some of my stupid fears and doubts.
And I may not have all my shit figured out yet, but I am one hundred percent certain about what I want right now. I want Asher’s lips on mine. His body surrounding mine, inside mine.
Even though I know it’ll change everything.
He’s not the kind of guy who could do something like this and not have it mean something big. But what I’m ready to give him is big.
It’s way bigger than my body, way bigger than just sex, and it’s filling this room with something so achingly sweet I can’t even stand it.
So I whisper, “I’m sure,” because I know he needs to hear the words, at the same I grind down against him, working my clit against the swelling bulge beneath me.
We both gasp and groan at the same time, and the sound gets muffled as our lips finally meet in another kiss.
He shudders, his hands leaving my face to move over my body, trailing up and down my back before sliding beneath my shirt. His fingertips on my bare skin send little trails of fire racing through me, and I stroke my tongue harder against his. Oh, yes, please.
I’m still holding onto his face, and even though I want to touch his body everywhere, to slip my fingers under his clothes and explore every ridge of hard muscle hidden beneath, I can’t seem to let go. It’s like I need an anchor, need to keep my hold on the strong line of his jaw as he kisses me or I’ll be swept away.
He kisses like he always does, in a way that’s thorough, consuming, and unhurried—as if he’s got all the time in the world.
Well, he might, but I don’t.
My breaths are coming faster and faster, and every time I rock against him, my clit throbs harder.
Shit, I’m about to come from dry humping, like a horny teenager in the back of a Toyota.
Jesus. How does he do this to me?
I attack his mouth even harder, kissing him with more desperation, as if that’ll hold off the impending orgasm. But then his hands settle on the curve of my ass and he hitches me against him harder, pressing me closer as his hips buck up toward mine, and it’s all over.
My body convulses, my thighs squeezing tight around his hips as my release floods through me. I tear my lips from his, moaning his name as I bury my face in the crook of his shoulder, tasting his skin and inhaling his clean, warm scent. His arms are still wrapped around me, and he presses kisses to my hair as his chest rises and falls beneath mine.
I have a vague feeling that maybe I should be a little embarrassed I came so quickly, so easily. But I’m not.
Partly because it’s Asher, and I trust him, and partly because I know we’re not done yet.
Not by a long shot.
When my breathing is a little more under control, I lift my head from his shoulder, biting my lip as I gaze down at him. “Thanks, sailor. I think I needed that.”
He grins at me, soft and sweet and hot. Then he slides his hands under my thighs and lifts me with him as he stands. I wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck as he carries me over to his bed.
My back hits the mattress softly, and I scoot backward, propping myself up on my elbows to watch him strip his shirt off. I’ve seen him shirtless plenty of times before—kind of hard