Chapter Sixty-Two
Asher
“Let’s go to bed.” Raine’s palm molds to my cheek, fingertips lightly skimming the stubble. Fear still lingers in the depths of her brown eyes, but anticipation layers over heat, and I follow her without hesitation.
In twelve hours, she’ll be alone. And I’ll be walking into a battle with no guarantee of the outcome.
The city glows through the bedroom window. Privacy glass keeps us hidden from view, but exposes how little of the world around us has fallen into sleep.
For a moment, we stand next to the bed, close enough to touch, but still, as if the first person to break will simply disappear.
Until she reaches for me.
Her fingers curl around the soft fabric of my Henley. The kiss is tender. There’s no panic to it. No desperation. Only certainty.
Raine presses closer. She’s all soft curves and hard angles. Still too thin, too depleted, but her mind—and her resolve—are stronger than ever.
Her hands skim down my torso, exploring, mapping terrain she’s worried she’ll lose. “I want you,” she murmurs against my lips. “All of you.”
Want.
The weight of that single word is more than I can bear. She doesn’t use it casually.
Slowly, she traces the shape of my shoulders, down my arms, over my back. I let her lead, one hand at her waist, the other cupping her neck with the lightest pressure.
My lips find hers, and as she parts for me, I almost forget about tomorrow. There’s only her body, the soft silk of her hair brushing my fingers, and the tiny moan vibrating in her throat.
Only us.
Her fingers curl around the hem of my shirt, tugging it up and over my head before letting it fall to the floor.
Kisses feather over my jaw, down to my collarbone, across my chest. I don’t trust my voice, so I answer the only way I can.
By letting my body respond to each sensation.
Every press of her lips. Every place her fingers meet skin.
Tender heat. The lightest of touches. The way my heart matches hers in rhythm.
I’ve done nothing in my life to deserve this woman. That she’s here, that she’s choosing this—choosing me—is the closest thing to a miracle I’ve ever experienced.
“Fuuuuck,” I manage as she flicks my nipple with her tongue.
Raine stops, her eyes snapping to mine before she gives me the smallest nod, permission offered without a word.
I unzip her hoodie, sliding the soft fabric down her arms, careful of her shoulder. A single kiss to the curve of her neck—far enough away from the bruises and the fading reddish burn from a hood tied too tight for too long not to spook her.
She shudders, her breath catching once, and her hands move to my ass.
Her shirt is next, landing next to mine.
For a long moment, I let my gaze drink her in.
The reality of this—of her choosing me—settles deep in my chest. I’ll hold onto that miracle for the rest of my life, whether that’s only one more day or many, many years.
And through every moment of what tomorrow brings.
My hands settle at her waist as I dip my head, my lips pressing to her left shoulder. Following the lines of her body, I draw her closer without urgency, memorizing the warmth of her against me.
If this is our last night together, the last quiet moments we ever have, I want the memories burned so deep, no one and nothing can ever erase them. They’ll carry me through fear and isolation and pain. Through every moment I’m not sure I’ll make it back to her.
“Asher…” She tries to undo the button on my jeans, but her fingers tremble and it slips from her grasp.
I catch her hands gently, pressing a kiss to her knuckles before stepping back and stripping down to my briefs.
She uses the pause in contact to unhook her bra and shimmy out of her black leggings. By the time I close the distance, pulling her against me again, there’s nothing left between us but air and the quiet music drifting in from the other room.
I sink down onto the bed with her in my arms. She adjusts by inches, wrapping her legs around me, trusting me to support her as I kiss a line down the column of her throat to her breasts.
Learning her body should have been an obsession. If I’d known it would come down to this—to one last night—I would have spent every hour memorizing the way she moves. Instead, I’m still discovering her piece by piece.
I shift to lay her down, stretching out next to her so I can wrap my lips around one of her nipples. The tight bud rises in answer, and she arches her back with a tiny whimper.
Every touch is proof she’s real. That we’re real. That I haven’t lost her. And maybe…I won’t.
The soft sounds of arousal fill the room. My fingers skate over her stomach, down to the brown curls covering her mound.
She sucks in a breath.
Shit.
“Raine? Can I taste you?”
Her lips part, chest stuttering for a beat before she nods. “Y-yes. But…I need to see you. Please…”
Drawing the pillows closer, I help her move by inches, ensuring she’s supported before settling between her thighs, never losing eye contact. “If this is too much, we stop.”
She watches me, her breathing still too fast, but there’s a fragile steadiness to her now. One I’ll do anything to protect. “You won’t hurt me,” she says softly. “My heart knows that. But…”
I run a hand up and down her thigh. “You’re in control. Always.”
Raine tightens her fingers in the sheet as I press a kiss to her mound. She smells like the ocean after a storm. The first stroke of my tongue through her folds is like coming home.
She shudders, her heels pressing into the mattress. “Okay?” I ask, my gaze lifting to hers.
“Uh-huh.” Her eyes are half glazed over. Hearing Raine reduced to soft, breathless sounds rather than carefully measured words sends all the blood in my body rushing to my dick.
I rest my fingers lightly over her lower lips, parting her folds enough for my tongue to lap at her clit. With each stroke, her muscles coil tighter.
Tiny whimpers spill over one another until her entire body strains, her back arches, and she lets out a keening cry. The climax shudders through her like a tidal wave, and I gentle my strokes as her breathing steadies, then move back up to her side.
She fits against me like we were destined to be together like this.
“I choose you,” I whisper, my lips right next to her ear. “Always.”
Her hands slide up to my shoulders, fingers digging hard enough into my muscles that I hope I’ll carry the marks with me into tomorrow. When she shifts, guiding me onto my back, I let her take control. Because she’s choosing me, too.
I’m already leaking, and I snag the condom from the nightstand, tear the foil, and roll it over my aching length.
Her hair tickles my chest as she climbs on top of me. The way she looks at me, fiercely present, trusting without conditions, shatters every wall I’ve ever built around my heart, breaking me wide open, and love spills through the wreckage until I’m drowning in it.
I hold Raine’s hips, my thumbs brushing along her sides, memorizing the shape of her as she sets the rhythm. Every touch, every glance, every thrust is a promise that we’ll have the life we only dared let ourselves imagine tonight.
If—no—when I come back.
I’d choose Raine in any timeline. Take any amount of pain to spare her even a second of it.
GSD can do whatever they want to me if it keeps her safe and free long enough to build that future she never knew she wanted.
I cup her breast with one hand, the other steady at the small of her back.
Her eyelids flutter, her channel gripping me tighter with each roll of her hips.
And for one perfect moment, there is no tomorrow.
No uncertainty. No fear. Just the quiet conviction that we’ve found what we never knew we were missing.
“Touch me,” she whispers, leaning down to kiss me, then capturing my lower lip between her teeth.
I find her clit with my thumb. It only takes a few strokes before she cries out, and my own release carries me with her.
Raine collapses against me, curling under my arm, her face tucked against my chest. I press my lips to her hair, memorizing the scent of her shampoo, the warmth of her body, the way her breath catches as she comes down.
Until I feel her tears soaking into my skin. The small, steady tremors she’s trying to hide.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper, pulling her closer and skimming my palm up and down her back. I know her tells now. What calms her. What sends her spiraling. And this…this steadies us both.
The urge to confess my feelings for her is dangerously close to the surface. But if I say the words now, it will make tomorrow that much harder for both of us.
I stare at the ceiling, memorizing the sound of her breathing, the weight of her against me, the scent of us filling the room.
I’ll survive this. Not because I’m strong or determined or lucky. But because there is no other option.
I will make it back to her.