CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
Kaia
The cab ride to Asher’s place passed in a blur, broken only by quick flashes of clarity—him texting his friends, me texting Alba so no one worried. The rest was heat: his hand wrapped around mine, his mouth brushing my jaw, my lips.
We didn’t talk. Words would’ve ruined it. They would’ve made me think when I only wanted to feel. To sink into his nearness, even if I regretted it by morning.
The taxi stopped in front of a high-rise downtown. Asher paid, got out, and held the door for me.
The second my feet hit the sidewalk, he laced his fingers through mine and led me inside.
On the elevator, silence pressed close. My insides buzzed with nerves. He reached over, tucking a strand behind my ear. His fingertips lingered on my cheek as his gaze traced my face. Then the shiny gray doors slid open.
“Come on,” he murmured.
Once more, I slipped my hand into his. We walked to the mahogany door on the right. He let go to fumble with his keys. The tip kept missing the lock, and he muttered a curse.
“Bad aim?” I teased.
That smirk—the one I’d spent two years trying to forget—tugged at his mouth. “You never complained, peque.”
Finally, the lock clicked. He motioned me in first, then followed.
The space smelled like him. He reached for the light switch, but I pressed my hand over his. “Don’t. Come here.”
Conflict flickered across his face, right and wrong pulling at him.
But I needed him. For once, I wanted to take what I needed—and give him what I knew he wanted too.
“Kaia,” he rasped, voice low and rough. “Maybe we should—”
I pressed my fingers to his lips. “No. Please, not now.”
He kissed each fingertip, then my palm, lingering over the ink on my wrist. I shrugged off my jacket; he let his fall too.
I reached for him, gripping his shoulders and kissing him like I was parched and he was water.
He lifted me, his hands firm on my thighs as I wrapped around his hips. His mouth stayed on mine—nipping, gliding, taking.
He walked us backward through a dark hallway, then reached behind him to open a door.
City lights spilled through a floor-to-ceiling window, casting a gold glow over the king-sized bed draped in white linen. I glanced at it, and that damn smirk returned, heat blazing in his eyes.
“I bought it thinking about everything I’d do to you in it.”
My core clenched.
Asher pressed his thumb to my lower lip, sliding it down my chin, my throat, to my chest. He found my nipple through the thin fabric and circled it, watching me like I was something rare. My grip on his shoulders tightened, my breath coming faster the longer he touched me.
Then he stopped.
He set me on the edge of the bed and sank to his knees. His thumb brushed the button of my jeans, then stilled.
“I haven’t been with anyone since our first time,” he said.
My breath quivered at his admission. He’d waited two years?
I swallowed the knot rising in my throat. “Ash, I—”
He shook his head, undoing the button. “Don’t say anything. If you’d moved on, that would’ve been on me for letting you go.”
He tugged my jeans down, his gaze smoldering, and I lifted off the bed. We could talk later. Right now, I just wanted his touch.
He slid the denim off inch by inch, kissing each strip of skin he uncovered. Heat pooled low in my belly when his mouth traced the inside of my thigh.
I hadn’t thought I’d ever feel his lips on me again. Now that I did, I savored every second, trembling with lust and impatience.
Asher gripped the hem of his black tee and yanked it up.
Somehow, in the time we’d been apart, he’d grown even more chiseled.
Harder. Rougher. He tossed the shirt aside, peeled off my socks, and added them to the pile of clothes.
His thumb circled my ankle bone as he lifted my leg to his shoulder, then did the same with the other.
Desire throbbed through me. He curled his fingers into the band of my panties. If he touched them, he’d know how soaked I already was. It never took much with him. Maybe because I’d discovered what I liked in his hands, and he knew my body like it was his own.
He dragged the satin down my legs, eyes fixed on me. For a moment his gaze locked with mine—then he lifted my legs back to his shoulders and leaned in, his mouth level with my sex.
“I missed this,” he murmured, lips brushing me. The first lick made me collapse onto the bed.
“Ash.” His name tore from me with every slow stroke of his tongue. He spread me open with his thumbs, teasing my clit in steady flicks, back and forth, faster, until I quivered, gasping.
“Too much, mi amor?” he asked, sliding a finger inside me.
My love. I tried not to think—about the words, about anything—and rocked against his mouth as pleasure built. It magnified when he found the spot inside me, rubbing while his lips pulled at my clit.
“Quiero que te corras,” he whispered. I want you to come.
As if I could stop it.
A helpless moan broke from my throat. He kept the rhythm, coaxing me higher with each lick, each caress. The first ripple of release spread through me, and when I glanced down, there was pride in his eyes—like watching me fall apart beneath him undid him too.
The ripple swelled into a crashing wave, a tsunami that tore through me as he hummed against my sex. My cries filled the room. Sweat slicked my skin.
I shoved my top up with shaky hands, desperate to strip off the rest.
Asher rose to his full height, watching me with hunger that spurred me on. I knelt on the bed, unclasped my bra, and slid the straps down slowly, teasing him.
One look at the strain in his jeans told me it worked.
I tossed the bra aside and hooked my fingers into his belt loops, tugging him closer until he couldn’t go anywhere else. I eased the zipper down and pushed at his pants. My palm pressed against his erection, and he hissed through his teeth.
“Kaia.”
I slipped my hand under the hem of his boxer briefs and curled my fingers around him. Hot, heavy, pulsing. I pushed the fabric down and slid my fingertips along his length, from the base to the swollen head slick with precum.
Asher tipped his head back, throat working with a swallow. “It’s always wrecked me—every touch. Just you looking at me like that.”
“What about this?” I asked, brushing my thumb over his tip.
He gave a pained laugh. “What do you think, mi amor?”
That word again. He used to mean it, and the possibility he still did warmed me from the inside out. I leaned forward, lips level with him.
Asher cupped my jaw, the lust in his eyes clearing. “No.”
The rejection stabbed through me. He wanted this, so why wouldn’t he let me give it?
His gaze softened. “I don’t trust myself not to come the second you touch me.”
Relief loosened my chest. He pressed a knee into the mattress, nudging me back until I lay down.
Then he hovered above me, lowering onto his forearms, strong body caging mine.
“Open for me,” he murmured, eyes on my mouth.
I parted my lips, and he claimed them in a deep, scorching kiss.
His tongue tangled with mine, and he moaned, like he couldn’t believe this was real.
One hand cupped my breast, teasing the nipple I ached for him to kiss.
As if reading my mind, he trailed his mouth down and sucked one peak, then the other.
His palm slid up my thigh, fingers brushing my slit—testing. Ready. He slipped inside easily, dragging the moisture up to circle my clit.
“Ash,” I whispered. “I’m ready.”
He kissed me slow, then reached into the nightstand and tore open a new box of condoms.
Like the first time, I watched him roll one down his length. He cradled my face, searching my expression, then pressed me open with his weight. I shivered at the mix of lust and nerves.
His tip grazed me before he thrust in, filling me deep.
His forehead dropped to my collarbone, lips scattering wet kisses across my skin as his breath stuttered. I lifted my hips, pressing closer, taking him deeper.
My fingers skimmed down his spine to the curve of his ass. Quiet settled between us until he started moving—slow, steady rolls of his hips. Not just easing me in. Making me remember.
I hooked a leg around him, rocking with him, while his mouth found my neck, then my ear.
“I missed you. So fucking much.”
My eyes burned. I couldn’t cry now. I missed him too, but what if we couldn’t go back to what we’d been?
I shoved the thought away, clinging to the rhythm of him sliding in and out, building exactly how I needed.
He bent to close his mouth around my breast. The wet heat of it paired with his thrusts wound the pressure tight inside me. My fingers dug into the hard muscle of his ass as I surrendered to the sensation of him everywhere.
He hit the spot that made sparks explode inside me. Again. And again. My breaths came shallow, my body clenching around him.
“Like this?” He licked my nipple.
All I could manage was a broken whimper.
He hummed approval and drove into me with deliberate strokes until I begged for more.
Then he slammed harder, faster, his body straining under my hands, his tongue lavishing my breasts. My cry echoed in the dark room, met by his groan.
I shattered seconds before he did, clutching his hot, sweaty body like I couldn’t survive without it.
Asher wrapped me close, his chest heaving against my ear, breath ragged.
When he slipped out, I felt hollow, but he kissed my forehead, pulled a duvet over us, and folded me into his arms.
I shut my eyes, pretending the last two years hadn’t existed.
***
I woke to soft morning light spilling across the room. Beyond the window stretched the marina—yachts rocking in the mist.
But the view in bed was better. Asher lay on his stomach, facing me. His lips parted slightly, dark lashes shadowing his cheekbones. He’d always been handsome, but age had sharpened his features, made him breathtaking.