Chapter 20 #2
Once the belt is gone, she reaches for my shirt and let her push it off my shoulders, her palms mapping the planes of my chest, tracing old scars from ranch work and rodeo spills. When her thumb brushes over a particularly jagged line near my collarbone, I catch her wrist.
"That one's from a bull named Widow Maker," I murmur. "Caught his horn when I was nineteen, when I thought I was invincible."
"And this one?" Her finger trails along my ribs.
"Barbed wire. Last spring." I lean into her touch. "You asking for my whole history?"
"Maybe." Her smile is soft, intimate. "I like knowing the stories that made you."
Something shifts in my chest at that admission. I've had women touch me before, but none who wanted to know the why behind every mark, every piece of my past. The intimacy of it catches me off guard.
"You want stories?" I press my forehead against hers, breathing her in. "I'll give you every damn one if it means you keep looking at me like that."
She wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me closer until there's no space left between us. "What if I can't give you the same? What if my stories are too complicated?"
"Then we'll untangle them together." I kiss her again, deeper this time, tasting the sweetness of her surrender. Her body melts against mine, all soft curves and heated skin.
I slide my hands down her sides, feeling the way she shivers under my touch. "Tell me what you want, Kassi."
She bites her lower lip, eyes searching mine. "I want you to touch me like you mean it."
"Baby, every touch means something." The endearment slips out before I can stop it, and I watch her pupils dilate in response. "Every damn one."
"Take me to your bed, Asher," she whispers.
I don't need to be asked twice. I lift her from the counter, her arms wound tight around my neck, legs still locked around my waist. She's lighter than I expected, but solid and real in my arms as I carry her down the hallway.
Her mouth finds my neck, tongue flicking against my pulse point, and I nearly stumble.
I kick the bedroom door open with my boot, unwilling to set her down for even a second.
The moonlight spills through the half-drawn curtains, painting silver streaks across her skin.
When I lay her on my bed the reality of it hits me like a physical blow.
Kassi, here, her hair fanning out across my pillow, her eyes dark and hungry.
"You sure about this?" I ask, voice barely above a growl as I brace myself above her.
Her answer is to reach up and pull me down to her, her kiss fierce and demanding. I groan into her mouth, tasting sweetness and need. My hand slides up her thigh, feeling the heat of her through the denim, tracing the curve of her hip, the dip of her waist.
"I want these off," she murmurs against my lips, tugging at my belt loops.
I straighten enough to strip off my jeans, watching as she does the same, shimmying out of hers with a grace that makes my mouth go dry
When we remove the last of our clothes, and the last barrier between us falls away, I pause, drinking her in. She's flushed and trembling, her chest rising and falling rapidly. I press my palm flat against her stomach, feeling her muscles flutter under my touch.
"You're shaking," I murmur, concerned.
"Good shaking," she breathes, eyes never leaving mine. "The kind that means I want something so badly I can barely think straight."
I trace my fingers along her collarbone, feeling her pulse jump beneath my touch. "And what is it you want so badly?"
"You." The word comes out raw, honest. "All of you. I'm tired of being careful, tired of second-guessing everything."
I lean down, pressing my lips to the hollow of her throat, tasting salty sweetness. "Then stop thinking," I murmur against her skin. "Just feel."
Reaching into the nightstand, I grab a condom. She watches me, her breath hitching as I tear the wrapper with my teeth.
"Let me," she whispers, reaching for me. Her fingers are warm and sure as she takes the condom, rolling it on with a tenderness that nearly undoes me completely.
I settle between her thighs, feeling the heat of her against me. "Kassi," I breathe her name like a prayer, like a promise. "Look at me."
Her eyes find mine, wide and trusting, and I see everything there—the want, the vulnerability, the leap of faith she's taking with me. I brush a strand of hair from her face, thumb tracing her cheekbone.
"I've got you," I murmur, and then I'm sinking into her, slowly and carefully, watching her face for any sign of discomfort.
She gasps, her back arching as I fill her. The sound echoes in my chest like thunder, and I have to hold perfectly still for a moment, overwhelmed by the sensation of her surrounding me.
"You okay?" I whisper against her temple, tasting the salt of the sweat beginning to bead there.
"More than okay," she breathes, shifting her hips in a way that makes stars explode behind my eyes. "Don't stop."
I begin to move, setting a slow rhythm that has her eyes fluttering closed. "Look at me," I murmur again. "I want to see you."
Her gaze locks with mine, vulnerable and fierce all at once. There's something raw about being watched like this, being seen so completely. I've never felt more exposed than I do with her eyes on me, reading every emotion that crosses my face.
I slide my hand beneath her, lifting her hips to change the angle, and her mouth falls open in a silent cry. Her nails rake down my back, leaving marks I'll feel tomorrow. I don't care. I want to be marked by her, want the reminder that this wasn't just another dream.
"You feel so good," I whisper against her ear, my voice strained with the effort of maintaining control. "So perfect."
Her fingers dig into my shoulders, body arching beneath me like a drawn bow. The way she moves with me, her body meeting each thrust, tells me she's close. Sliding a hand between us, I find that sensitive bundle of nerves with my thumb, circling slow and steady.
"Asher," she gasps, the sound of my name on her lips almost undoing me completely. "Oh god..."
"That's it," I encourage, watching her face as pleasure washes over her. "Let go for me, beautiful."
Her thighs tighten around my hips, her body tensing beneath me. I feel the exact moment she breaks, her inner muscles clenching around me in rhythmic pulses. The sight of her coming undone—head thrown back, lips parted, eyes locked with mine—pushes me right to the edge.
"Kassi," I groan, my rhythm faltering as my own release builds. "I'm close."
"Don't stop," she whispers, still riding the aftershocks of her own pleasure. Her hands frame my face, thumbs stroking my cheekbones with unexpected tenderness. "I want to feel you."
That does it. I let out a harsh groan as my release crashes through me, every muscle in my body going taut as I spill into her.
My vision goes white at the edges, and for a moment, there's nothing but the feeling of her body beneath mine, the sound of her breathing, the scent of us mingled together.
I collapse against her, trying to catch my breath, my face buried in the curve of her neck. Her fingers run through my hair, soothing, familiar, and the feeling in my chest goes deeper than the physical satisfaction still humming through my veins.
"Jesus," I breathe against her skin, pressing a soft kiss to her collarbone.
She hums in agreement, her body still trembling slightly beneath mine. I lift my head to look at her, taking in the flush across her cheeks, the satisfied curve of her lips. She looks different like this—softer, more open. Like she's let down walls I didn't even know she'd built.
I roll to my side after cleaning up, pulling her against me so her back curves into my chest. The fit is perfect, it’s as if she were made to be held by me. I brush her hair away from her neck, pressing soft kisses there.
"Stay," I murmur against her skin. The word hangs between us in the darkness, heavier than I intended. Her body goes still against mine, and I feel the shift immediately—the way her breathing changes, becomes more deliberate.
"Asher..." she starts, and I hear the conflict in her voice before she even continues.
"Just until morning," I say quickly, hating how desperate I sound. "I'm not asking for promises."
But even as I say it, I know I'm lying. I want more than one night, more than stolen moments when no one's watching. I want mornings with her hair spread across my pillow. I want to make her coffee and watch her drink it while Emma chatters about her dreams. I want things I have no right to want.
"Okay," she whispers.
The word settles in my chest like a brand. I kiss the back of her shoulder and pull the blanket higher. She fits against me more easily than breathing. Her hand finds mine where it rests at her waist, and our fingers lock, instinctive as muscle memory.
I listen as her breathing evens out. Out past the window a nightbird calls, and the pasture answers with a soft stir of leaves.
My house has never been this quiet or this full.
I think about the way she watched Emma brush Midnight, the way she looked at me when I steadied her on the bleachers.
I think about coffee in the morning and small feet on my porch, and how simple it felt to lift a little girl out of a crowd and make sure she did not fall.
Candy has Emma tonight. We have a few hours that belong only to us. I’m not wasting them worrying. I tuck her closer and let the weight of her anchor me to this bed and this room and this choice.
I don’t say the words out loud. Instead, I hold her and admit it to myself in the dark.
I am in love with her. Not with the idea of her.
Not with the fight. With her. With the woman who tells me the hard thing, even when her voice shakes.
With the mother who counts the cost and still laughs when her girl wins a small victory.
With the quiet person in my arms who is not trying to be anything, except be here.
Morning will come. There will be calls to make and lines to hold and brothers to face and men in suits who think a ranch is only dirt with a price tag. That’s fine. I was born for the heavy work. I can carry weight.
Tonight, I carry her. I press my mouth to her hair and close my eyes and let the truth settle. I am not asking for promises. But I’m making one. If she lets me, I will keep her safe and the ground under her steady. I will give her coffee, quiet, and a place to land.
She sighs in her sleep and turns toward me, one knee hooking over my leg, careless and sure. It knocks the last of the air from my chest. I smile into the dark like a fool and hold on.