Chapter 21
Kassi
Warmth envelops me first—his body curved against mine, arm heavy across my waist, breath steady on my shoulder. For a moment, I wonder if I dreamed last night, him carrying me down the hall, our bodies finding each other in the dark.
Then I shift, and his hold tightens. His palm spreads against my stomach, anchoring me to the bed.
I blink into the dim light. Through half-drawn curtains, morning slips in—soft gold bars across rumpled sheets.
Keeping myself still, I lie with my cheek pressed to the pillow that smells like him. Leather, sandalwood, and clean soap. It's a dangerous kind of comfort, the sort that makes a woman think she could belong here.
Though I mean to slip out of bed before he wakes, his lips touch the back of my neck, light, testing. My breath catches before I can stop it.
"Asher," I whisper, not sure if it's a protest or a prayer.
His lips press firmer against my skin, trailing to the sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulder. A rush of heat floods my body, pooling low in my belly where his fingers now trace lazy circles.
"Morning," he murmurs, voice rough with sleep, the vibration of his words against my skin sending shivers down my spine.
I should leave. I should make some excuse about needing coffee or checking my phone. Instead, I find myself arching back against him, my body betraying what my mind knows is smart.
"I didn't think you'd still be here," he says, nuzzling my hair aside to access more of my neck.
"I didn't plan to be," I admit, my voice sounding foreign to my own ears—too breathless, too wanting.
"You sleep okay?" he asks, lips moving to that sensitive spot below my ear.
"Better than I have in months," I admit, the confession slipping out before I can catch it.
He hums, pleased, the vibration of his chest against my back making me melt. His fingers continue their lazy exploration between my thighs, finding me already soaked for him.
"Jesus," he breathes. "Already?"
I turn my face into the pillow, embarrassed by how readily my body responds to him. But he grasps my chin, turns my head until I meet his eyes—dark blue in the morning light, pupils blown wide.
"Don't hide from me," he says. "Not after last night."
The memory of last night crashes over me. Heat crawls up my neck, and I know he can see it in the flush spreading across my chest.
"What we did..." I start, but the words tangle on my tongue when his thumb rubs over my clit. My thoughts dissolve into nothing as he increases the pressure, circling slowly. I bite back a moan, my hips moving against his hand without permission.
"What we did was fucking incredible," he finishes for me, his voice dropping to that gravelly register that makes my stomach clench. "And I want to do it again. Right now."
His other hand slides up to cup my breast, thumb brushing over my nipple until it peaks. The dual sensations make my back bow, pressing me harder against the solid warmth of his chest.
"You're so fucking responsive," he murmurs, his breath hot on my neck. "Makes me want to keep you in this bed all day, see how many times I can make you come apart."
My pulse hammers against my throat. I can hear the ranch coming alive. Anyone could hear.
"Asher, we can't—"
"Can't what?" His fingers still their movement, and I nearly whimper at the loss. "Can't finish what we started? Can't let me make you come the way you deserve?"
He rolls me beneath him in one smooth motion, settling between my thighs.
My breath catches as his weight settles over me, his eyes dark with intent. The morning light catches the sharp angles of his jaw, stubbled and masculine, and I'm struck again by how beautiful he is—dangerous in the way that makes smart women stupid.
"Look at me," he says, voice low and commanding. When I meet his gaze, something electric passes between us. "Do you want this?"
"Yes," I whisper, the word hanging in the golden morning air. "God, yes."
His smile is slow, predatory. He lowers his head, brushing his lips against mine in a kiss that starts gently but quickly turns hungry.
"I can't get enough of you," he murmurs against my lips. "Thought about you for weeks before last night."
His confession sends a thrill through me. I thread my fingers through his hair, feeling the silky strands catch between my knuckles as I pull him closer.
"Prove it," I challenge, surprising myself with my boldness.
Asher's eyes darken. "Oh, sweetheart. You have no idea what you're asking for. I want to take my time with you, but this needs to be quick."
His lips crash down on mine, and I moan into his mouth as his hands grip my hips. The sheet slips away, cool morning air kissing my skin before his body covers mine completely.
"Need to be inside you," he growls against my mouth.
I gasp as he positions himself, the blunt head of him pressing against my entrance. My legs fall open wider, inviting him in as my hands scramble for purchase against his broad shoulders.
"You want it?" he asks, his voice strained with restraint. His eyes hold mine, intense and searching.
"Yes," I breathe, lifting my hips in silent plea. "Please, Asher."
He enters me in one smooth thrust, filling me. I cry out, my nails digging into his skin as my body stretches to accommodate him. The sensation is overwhelming—too much and not enough all at once.
"Fuck," he hisses, holding still inside me. "You feel even better than last night."
I can't form words, can only arch beneath him as my body adjusts to the exquisite fullness. Every nerve ending seems to spark to life where we're joined, and I feel myself clench around him involuntarily.
"Christ, you're tight," he groans, his forehead dropping to rest against mine. "Need you to relax for me, sweetheart."
I try to breathe and let the tension ease from my muscles, but it's impossible when he feels this good inside me. When I finally manage to relax, he begins to move, with slow, deliberate strokes that make my toes curl.
"That's it," he murmurs, his voice rough with need. "Just like that."
The praise sends heat spiraling through me, and I find myself meeting his thrusts, our bodies finding a rhythm that feels ancient and inevitable.
"Look at you," he says, pulling back to watch my face. "So fucking beautiful like this."
His words send a flush of heat through me that has nothing to do with the physical act itself. I've been called beautiful before, but never with this raw honesty, never with eyes that see all of me—flaws and fears included.
"Asher," I gasp, my legs wrapping around his hips, urging him closer, deeper.
"Say it again," he commands, his voice strained. "Say my name."
"Asher," I repeat, louder this time, not caring who hears. "God, Asher, please."
He groans, burying his face in my neck, his breath hot against my skin. One hand slides between our bodies, fingers finding that sensitive bundle of nerves, circling with just enough pressure to make my vision blur.
"I want to feel you come around me while I'm inside you. Need to feel you fall apart," he says.
His fingers work against my clit in tight circles, and I feel myself climbing toward something that feels too big, too consuming.
"I can't—" I start, but he cuts me off with a kiss that tastes of possession.
"You can," he murmurs against my lips, his hips driving deeper. "Let go for me."
The combination of his words and the relentless pressure of his fingers sends me over the edge. I cry out, my back arching off the bed as waves of pleasure crash through me. My body clenches around him, and I hear him curse, his rhythm faltering.
"That's it, sweetheart," he groans, his voice tight with restraint. "Fuck, I can feel you."
He watches my face as I come undone, his eyes burning into mine with an intensity that makes me feel both seen and exposed. I can't look away even as my body trembles, even as I gasp his name again and again. The vulnerability terrifies me, but there's tenderness in his gaze that keeps me anchored.
"Don't close your eyes," he commands softly. "Stay with me."
My walls continue to pulse around him as he drives deeper, his rhythm growing erratic. I feel the exact moment he loses control—his muscles tense, his breathing ragged against my ear.
"Fuck, I need to pull out," he groans, his voice strained.
I tighten my legs around him, my hands gripping his sweat-slicked back. "I'm on the pill," I whisper, surprising myself with how badly I want to feel him finish inside me.
He searches my face for confirmation, and when I nod, something primal flashes in his eyes.
His hips slam against mine once, twice more before he buries himself deep with a guttural groan that reverberates through my chest. The feel of him pulsing inside me triggers another wave of pleasure, smaller but no less intense, and I whimper against his throat.
We lie there afterward, breathing hard, his weight pressing me into the mattress in a way that should feel suffocating but doesn't. His heart hammers against my chest, matching the frantic rhythm of my own.
"Well, good morning," he murmurs, voice rough and low with a hint of a smile.
"You call this morning?" My voice is wrecked, a shaky laugh hidden inside it.
"Best one I've ever had." He kisses me, slower this time.
The intimacy of it makes my chest tighten in ways that have nothing to do with the physical act we just shared. His thumb traces my jawline as he pulls back, studying my face with an expression I can't quite read.
The sunlight finds his shoulders where the sheet slips, gilding the powerful line of them. He looks carved from the light itself, more beautiful in this quiet than any man has a right to be.
And that's when it hits me. The bliss. The guilt. The way they tangle until I don't know which one will choke me first.
I close my eyes, trying to breathe around the knot in my chest. I know this can't stay hidden forever. The secrecy, the sneaking, the stolen hours. He deserves better. Emma deserves better. I deserve better.