Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
ASHER
She chose me.
I can’t stop replaying it. Not just the words, but the way she said them. That look in her eyes when she walked past safety and ran straight into my arms? It’s burned into me now.
She could’ve stepped forward. Given herself up. They were right there in the lobby—search and rescue, her last shot at being dragged back into the normal world. But she didn’t move.
She stayed.
For me.
That kind of choice rewires a man.
The second we’re back in the motel room, I kick the door shut and crowd her against it.
I don’t say anything. There’s no point in wasting breath on words she already knows.
She feels it—how close I came to losing my mind when she didn’t come back right away.
My hands are shaking from the aftershock, but not from fear.
No, this is hunger.
I’m going to show her what it means to choose a man like me.
She tilts her chin up, that soft, steady fire burning behind her eyes. Her breath hitches as I press my body against hers, pinning her to the door with the weight of all the things I haven’t said.
“You made your choice,” I murmur, my voice thick with heat and disbelief. “Now I’m going to make you feel it.”
Her lips part. “Asher…”
The sound of my name falling from her lips unhooks any restraint I have left.
I claim her mouth with mine, teeth and tongue as I ravage her. She melts against me, fingers in my hair, clawing at my jacket like she needs me deeper already. I yank it off, then pull hers over her head and toss it to the ground. Her shirt follows, then her bra, both gone in a fucking second.
She gasps when my mouth finds her neck, then her collarbone, then the soft swell of her breasts. I don’t just kiss—I bite, suck, mark her like I’m staking a claim on her.
“Mine,” I growl into her skin. “Fucking mine.”
Her moan breaks open something primal in me.
I grab the back of her thighs and lift her.
She wraps around me instantly, legs locked around my waist as I carry her to the bed and drop her onto it.
She bounces once, breathless, and starts to sit up, but I’m already pulling off her pants and panties, baring her inch by inch, slow enough to make her squirm.
She’s soaked. Pink and swollen and dripping just for me.
“You’re already soaked for me,” I growl, dragging a finger through the slick heat between her thighs. “Fuck, look at you. So ready, so fucking perfect. You were made for this.”
Her hips buck into my hand. She nods, breath hitching, that soft little gasp breaking free like a plea.
I lean in close, voice low and rough. “That’s it, baby. Show me how much you need it.”
I kiss her inner thigh, then again, higher this time. She spreads for me without being asked, thighs trembling, hands fisting the sheets like she already knows what’s coming. My tongue drags up her pussy in one long, hungry stroke, and her entire body arches.
I don’t go easy on her.
I eat like a man dying. Mouth greedy, tongue punishing, fingers curling inside her until she’s keening and begging and twitching under my grip. I want her ruined. Shattered. No thoughts, no hesitations. Just her body unraveling because of me.
Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me closer. She doesn’t even realize she’s crying out my name until I slap her thigh hard enough to make her jolt.
“Use your words,” I snarl against her soaked cunt. “What do you want, sweet doe?”
“You,” she gasps. “I want you inside me—please—Asher, please—”
I fucking lose it.
I rip off my shirt, undo my jeans, and line my cock up against her entrance. I’m barely holding on. The sight of her spread out for me, wrecked and needy and whispering my name—it unmans me.
“You wanna feel me inside you?” I growl, dragging my cock along her soaked entrance. “Want me to fill your tight little cunt while you fall apart on it?”
She nods, breathless, eyes fluttering like she’s already there. “Please,” she whispers. “Yes.”
I don’t hesitate. I know she’s on the pill—never misses it, not once. She takes it every morning like clockwork. And fuck, that only makes it easier to give in to the madness clawing inside me.
I grip her hips harder, my voice dropping as I press in deeper. “Good. Because I’m not pulling out. You’re gonna take every drop I give you.”
I slam into her with one brutal thrust, burying myself to the hilt.
Her cry rips through the room.
I stay there for a second, her pussy gripping me so tight I can barely think. Then I start to move, slow at first—grinding in deep, making her feel every fucking inch—before snapping my hips forward, hard enough to shove the bed into the wall.
I fuck her like I’m trying to crawl inside her. Like I want to drown in her.
She clutches at my back, nails dragging down my spine as I growl into her mouth, “Say it again.”
“I’m yours.”
“Again.”
“I’m yours, Asher. Forever.”
That does it.
I hook her knees over my shoulders and slam into her deeper, her scream echoing through the cheap motel room.
Her whole body is shaking. I’m not stopping until she breaks.
Not until she’s sobbing from how good it feels.
Her nails claw at my chest, her back arches, and her pussy clamps down as she comes again—loud, messy, gorgeous.
But I’m not done.
I flip her onto her stomach, pull her hips up, and sink back in from behind. Her whole body jerks as I bury myself to the base again, hands gripping her waist hard enough to bruise.
“Do you feel that?” I rasp, grinding in. “That’s mine. You’re mine. Every part of you.”
“Yes—fuck—please—don’t stop—”
I pound into her, fast and rough, until she’s barely holding herself up.
Her moans turn into sobs, into broken little sounds that hit me right in the fucking chest. I grab a fistful of her hair, yank her head back, and whisper against her ear, “I’ll never let anyone take you from me.
I’ll kill for you. Burn the fucking world if I have to. ”
She shudders. “I know. I want it—I want all of it—”
I lose control completely.
When I come, it’s with a roar, buried deep, hips jerking as I spill inside her. She falls forward, trembling, panting into the mattress while I collapse over her, chest heaving.
I softly press kisses to her shoulder, her spine, and her neck.
“I fucking love you,” I whisper against her damp skin. “You were made for me.”
She doesn’t speak. Doesn’t have to. Her body melts beneath me, ruined and soft, lips parted, lashes fluttering as she comes down from the high I gave her.
“Let’s get you cleaned up.”
I scoop her into my arms, her limbs draped over me like silk, and carry her to the bathroom. The tiles are cracked, the light flickers, and the mirror’s fogged before the water even starts running, but I don’t give a fuck. Right now, it’s just her and me. My future cradled against my chest.
I set her gently on the counter, turn the shower to warm, and step in with her, pulling her into the spray. Her head rests against my chest, eyes half-closed, too fucked-out to speak, but she doesn’t let go of me. Not even for a second.
I lather the soap between my palms, then start at her shoulders.
I wash her slow, reverent. My hands glide down her arms, over her ribs, and between her thighs lightly where I was brutal, gentle where I was greedy.
She lets me. Trusts me. Leans into every touch like it calms whatever storm is still churning inside her.
I drop to my knees.
Water runs over my back, steam curling around us as I look up at her from the floor like she’s the only god I’ve ever knelt for.
I wash her legs one by one, kiss her thighs, lick the water from her skin just to taste her again.
My hands trace every inch of her, not with lust this time, but with something far worse. Or better. Obsession. Devotion.
This is what forever looks like.
This girl, this body, this bruised little heart that still beats for me after everything. She’s mine. She chose me. And I’ll never let her regret it.
She’s never going to have to worry again. Not about where she’ll sleep. Not about who’s looking for her. Not about being alone.
Because I’ve got her now.
My family. My salvation. My sweet fucking doe.
I rise slowly, pressing a kiss to her collarbone before pulling her back into my arms, letting the hot water rinse us both clean.
And I swear if anyone tries to take this from me again, I’ll make the world burn.
She’s asleep now.
Curled up against me, wearing nothing but my shirt, her bare leg slung over mine. Even in sleep, she can’t bear to let go. I trace my fingers through her hair, slow and steady. Not because she’s fragile. Because I am. At least when it comes to her.
She’s not breakable.
She’s wildfire wrapped in soft skin and jagged breath. A storm that could tear me apart—and she fucking chose me anyway.
That truth hits me in the chest like a punch I don’t want to block. It settles deep, anchors me. Purpose. Need. Something almost close to peace, if I believed in that kind of thing.
I ease out of bed, careful not to wake her, and cross to the duffel bag in the corner. The burner’s wedged between a rolled-up hoodie and a stack of cash. I dial. Jesse picks up on the second ring.
Still paranoid. Still useful.
“I need IDs,” I say, voice low. “Two names. Married couple. Keep it clean. No flags.”
“You got the cash?”
“Always.”
He exhales, sharp. “Twenty-four hours.”
“You’ve got twelve.”
Silence. Then a quiet, “Fuck you,” and the line goes dead. I know he’ll get it done.
I drop the phone, start sorting supplies. Credit cards, backup phones, cash. Maps marked with routes I traced months ago—just in case. And here we are. No more just in case.
I’ve been waiting for this life. Living in the shadows, teeth bared and eyes wide, waiting for the moment I could burn it all down and start again with something worth the blood on my hands.
Now I have it.
There’s a cabin in the Northwest woods. Off-grid. Quiet. No neighbors, no questions. Beyond that? Canada, maybe. Alaska. Doesn’t matter. So long as she’s beside me, I’ll create whatever kind of world she needs.
I glance over at the bed.
She’s still there. Asleep. Safe. Her breath steady, mouth slightly open, tangled in the shitty motel sheets like it’s a goddamn throne. Her skin’s still flushed from earlier. Her thigh bruised where I held her down. Mine.
Finally. Fully. Irrevocably.
I slide back in beside her and pull her into me, burying my face in her hair, my hand splayed across her stomach like a brand. She sighs in her sleep, soft and low, her fingers curling around my wrist like she knows on some deep, instinctive level that I’m hers too, and I am.
I close my eyes.
Tomorrow, we run. Burn every trail behind us and disappear.
But tonight?
Tonight I rest with her in my arms and everything I’ve ever wanted finally pressed to my chest.