Chapter 7 #2
"You're tired of fighting," he says, but it's more a question than a statement. He takes that moment to reach into his pocket and pull out the key to my chains, immediately freeing me.
"I'm tired of being afraid." That part isn't a lie. "I'm tired of not knowing what's going to happen next. I'm tired of feeling like I'm walking on eggshells every second."
"You don't have to be afraid of me, Sloan." He reaches out slowly, giving me time to pull away, and covers my hand with his. "I would never hurt you. Everything I've done has been to protect you."
His hand is warm and surprisingly gentle. The same hand that killed his brother, that's chained me to this bed, that's stolen my entire life. But right now, in this moment, it just feels like comfort in the middle of all this chaos.
And I hate myself for not pulling away. But at the same time I know I can’t. I have to play the game.
"I know you believe that," I say carefully. "But protection shouldn't feel like imprisonment."
"It's temporary. And this place is a sanctuary." His thumb strokes across my knuckles, and I force myself not to flinch. "You'll see, once you've had time to adjust. Once you understand how perfect this can be."
Perfect. His vision of perfection involves me being completely dependent on him, completely isolated from everyone and everything I've ever known. A pet in a beautiful cage, grateful for whatever scraps of affection he chooses to give me.
The thought makes my stomach turn, but I keep my expression neutral. Interested, even.
"Show me," I say quietly.
"What?"
"Show me how perfect this can be." I turn my hand palm up under his, a gesture of openness that costs me everything. "If this is going to be my life, then I want to understand what that means."
The hope that blooms in his eyes is almost painful to witness. Like I've just granted his deepest wish, given him the one thing he's been desperate for.
"You mean that?" His voice is rough with emotion.
"I'm here, aren't I?" I gesture to the chain that was just around my ankle with my free hand. "I'm not going anywhere. So maybe... maybe we should figure out how to make this work."
The smile that spreads across his face is radiant, transforming his entire appearance. For just a moment, he looks young and vulnerable and almost innocent. Like someone who's never hurt anyone, never destroyed lives, never obsessed over a stranger to the point of kidnapping them.
It's terrifying how appealing this version of him is.
"I knew you'd see reason," he says, lifting my hand to press a soft kiss to my palm. "I knew you were smart enough to understand."
The kiss sends an unwelcome shiver up my arm, and I have to fight not to jerk away. This is the game now. This is survival. I can't afford to react with revulsion when I need him to believe I'm genuinely considering him.
"I understand," I say, injecting just a hint of shyness into my voice.
"Hey." He tilts my chin up with one finger, forcing me to meet his gaze. "I know this is hard. I know you're scared and confused and probably angry. But I need you to trust that I know what's best for us right now."
Us. Like we're a team. Like we're partners in this.
"Okay," I whisper, letting him see the vulnerability I'm actually feeling. "I'll try to be patient."
"That's all I ask." He stands up, but his hand lingers on my cheek for a moment longer.
"Asher," I whisper, his name falling from my lips so softly.
He's standing over me, silhouetted against the light outside, and I can feel the tension radiating from him. The way his shoulders are set, the way his hands clench and unclench silently at his sides—he's holding himself back, barely restraining what’s burning inside him.
"Say it again," he breathes, crawling onto the bed, pushing me onto my back as he towers over me. Even in the dim light I can see the way his pupils have dilated, the way his chest rises and falls just a little too quickly. "Please..."
"Asher." The word comes out throaty and low, thick with want that I can't hide.
"Perfect," he says, voice rough.
His thumb traces my lower lip, and I can't stop the soft gasp that escapes. I lean into his touch, pressing a soft kiss to his palm.
His hands slide down to my shoulders, then lower, skimming my arms until he's holding my hands, pulling them above my head. He never breaks eye contact. "Do you want this?" he asks, voice barely above a whisper. "Because once I start touching you the way I want to, I won't be able to stop."
The words send heat spiraling through me, pooling between my thighs. "I don't want you to stop."
He doesn’t hesitate. His lips crash into mine, claiming them with that depraved mouth. The scent of him overwhelms me, completely shattering what remained of my restraint. Everything about him is intoxicating.
The way his hazel eyes both darken and brighten each time he looks at me.
The way his scent draws me in, making me want to be closer to him.
The way his words threaten to consume me whole.
"Sloan," he breathes between kisses. "Fuck, I've wanted this for so long."
I pull back just enough to look at him, taking in his flushed face, his eyes, the way his lips are already swollen. "Then have it. It’s yours. I’m yours."
His lips trap mine once more, and we’re both panting through each breath. I bring my fingers to the hem of his shirt, tugging on it until he raises his arms for me to bring it over his head.
I stare in awe as he throws his shirt to the floor. He’s fucking perfect. How I could have ever mistaken him for Alex, I don’t know. They’re not the same.
Not even close.
Asher’s lean, toned body holds far more muscle than Alex’s ever would. He’s sculpted by the life he lives. Chopping wood for our fires… Hiking the mountains to track the animals… He’s perfectly suited for this life.
A life on the run, I’m beginning to understand.
Asher groans as he lowers himself to me, reveling in the feeling of his bare skin against me.
The rest of our clothes are off in seconds. We practically rip them off, desperate for more of each other. For nothing to be between us.
He groans against my throat, his arms tightening around me as if he could pull me inside his very soul. "Say my name again. Beg for my cock.”
"Fuck, Asher." I thread my fingers through his hair, holding him close. "I need it. Please."
He lifts his head to look at me, and the emotion in his eyes is overwhelming. It takes my breath away. I’ve never been looked at like this.
"I love you," he says, the words coming out rough and broken. "I love you so much it scares me."
My heart stops, then starts again, beating twice as fast. I don’t say it back. I can’t. It’s not true and I can’t hurt him more than he’s been hurt in his lifetime.
He doesn’t seem to mind because he's kissing me again, pouring his soul and desperation into me.
Time seems to stop as we lose ourselves in each other. Every kiss, every touch. The outside world fades away until there's nothing but us.
His calloused hands worship every curve, every line of my body. When he whispers my name against my skin, I feel like I might shatter.
He looks at me like I’m the only girl in the world. Like I’m the only person who even exists.
There’s only us.
He lines his dick up against my entrance, giving me one last look, waiting for approval before he pushes inside me.
I nod, sucking my bottom lip between my teeth, and he immediately slides the head of his dick into me, giving me time to stretch and adjust to him. A few shallow thrusts, and then he’s completely filling me, making me gasp for air and claw at the sheets below us.
In one swift movement, he withdraws and flips my body over, forcing me onto my stomach. He grabs my hips, hoisting me onto my knees, and then he’s back inside of me, thrusting into me with so much aggression and pent up energy I’m on the edge of screaming.
“Fuck,” I cry out, using every ounce of my strength to keep my body from collapsing.
Asher responds by thrusting into me harder. Deeper. He buries himself into me over and over again, gripping my hips and slapping my ass every few pumps. Our breathing consumes the room, and all I can feel in this moment is lust.
Lust for this fantasy.
The way his dick stretches me.
And how insanely good the weight of him feels over me.
I begin to unravel, stars forming in the corners of my vision.
My walls clamp down on him as I come, squeezing him even tighter.
Asher’s moan rips through the room as he comes with me, and we’re both tipping over the edge into oblivion.
I can’t focus on anything other than how fucking good it feels as I come with him.
I give in, collapsing on the bed, and he follows, letting the entirety of his weight rest over me for a moment.
Fuck.
It was too fucking good.
Too fucking euphoric.
It’ll be too easy to get addicted.