He looks up, his eyes dark as they gaze into mine. I try to read his expression, but this man is a master at hiding them. He takes my chin in his palm, lifting his head to capture my mouth. He kisses me slowly, like he’s savoring me. His tongue is soft, his lips warm, his hand gentle as he cups my neck and deepens our connection, his body pressing against mine.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he rasps when we break for air.
I taste of pancake. There’s a cut behind my ear and my hair is dripping water from my shower. And yet this man makes me feel like I’m the center of the universe.
Like I’m his.
He picks me up without warning, setting me on the kitchen counter like I weigh nothing. The cool granite against my bare thighs makes me shiver.
“Tell me if you’re sore,” he murmurs, kissing along my collarbone.
“From your fingers?” I ask breathlessly. “No. They’re not that big.”
His eyes flash, wicked heat sparking behind them. “Not exactly the words any man wants to hear,” he says, but he’s grinning.
I laugh, soft and warm, but there’s something fluttering in my chest. I wrap my legs around his waist and touch his cheek, tracing the stubble along his jaw.
He leans into me, putting his weight against me, and for a moment, the playful tension shifts into something deeper. Something real. I swallow hard, the heaviness of it pressing on my chest as much as his body.
“Asher…”
He tips his head to the side, like the way I say his name does something to him.
I take a deep breath. “I’m not… I don’t…” Well this is excruciating. “I’m not as experienced as you are.”
He watches me like I just handed him something priceless.
“Are you a virgin?” There’s a softness to his voice. Like he’s only now finding out something he should have known all along.
I shake my head. “No. But I haven’t… done it often. And it’s been a long time.” I swallow, feeling suddenly vulnerable. “I just need you to know.”
He lifts his hands to cup my face. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” he says.
“Oh god, no. I want to,” I say so quickly my words stumble over each other. “I really want to. I’m just worried I might not please you.”
He looks at me silently. Like he’s assessing me. Then his thumbs stroke my cheeks, his gaze on mine. “Francie,” he says, low and rough. “You please me just by looking at me the way you do. You saw me come apart just by touching myself. That was due to you. All of you. You might not have been touching me, but every part of my body could feel you.”
He presses his brow to mine. “You’ve been the only thing I could think about all week. The only person that got me through my days. I couldn’t fucking wait to get home and watch you.” He takes a breath, like his confession is making him just as vulnerable. “You say you’re inexperienced, but I am too. In this. In being obsessed by something other than work.” He shakes his head. “You have no idea what you do to me, do you?”
The way the hard ridge of him presses against me, I’m starting to figure that one out.
“If you need gentle,” he murmurs, kissing my neck. “I’ll be so fucking gentle it’ll make you sigh.”
I drag my fingers through his hair, his lips against my throat making me shiver.
“I don’t want gentle,” I whisper. “I want you. All of you. Everywhere. I want you inside of me, fucking me. Making me come so hard I forget my own name.”
He smiles against my skin, lifting his head. Food forgotten, his hands slide around my waist as he hitches me up, my legs wrapping around his waist like an overexcited monkey, carrying me back to the bedroom.
The bed is unmade, the sheets kicked to the floor, but I don’t care. He lays me down like I’m precious, then straightensupright, his eyes locked on mine as he unbuttons his shirt – slowly and deliberately – like he knows he’s baring a masterpiece and wants me to admire every stroke.
I pull my tank over my head and shimmy out of my shorts, my breath catching at the way he watches me. Like I’m a piece of art he’s outbid everybody in the room on.
“Francie,” he says hoarsely, stripping off the last of his clothes. My eyes drop, and I swear I forget how to breathe. The thick ridge of him strains against his shorts. Every part of me clenches in nervous anticipation. I’ve never had anyone this big. I’m not even sure we’ll fit together.
But how I want to try.
“Yes?”
