He pulled me against him, then fell back, dragging me with him. All of me pressed to all of him, and my mind flashed to the hill after racing—our first and only intimate moment.
“I’m ready for more,” I whispered. “With you. I want everything.”
His hand slipped under my shirt, his palm warm on my skin. “Me too.”
“But you’re holding back.”
He chuckled, the sound rumbling through me. “I’m waiting for the moment when I can make it special. I’m not taking your virginity in your father’s house. I won’t leave you alone afterward, wondering if I care. I’ve fucked up plenty of things, but not this. Can you wait a little longer, peque?”
I buried my face in his neck, breathing him in. “Yes. Of course.”
Waiting would be worth it. I couldn’t imagine my first time with anyone else.
Asher turned his head, our gazes locking before he kissed me—slow, his tongue teasing mine. I clutched his black shirt, my grip white-knuckled, and rolled on top of him. His tortured groan vibrated against my lips. “That doesn’t feel like waiting.”
“What does it feel like?”
“El paraíso,” he murmured, sliding his hands over the strip of skin above my jeans. He nipped my bottom lip, swallowing my gasp as the kiss deepened, rougher.
Every nerve lit up, my body aching for more. A moan escaped me, answered by his low curse. One hand tangled in my hair, the other skimmed down to my stomach. His thumb brushed my belly button, and my breath hitched.
Shivers coursed through me as his fingers slipped beneath my jeans, past the thin barrier of my panties.
“Eyes on me,” he whispered, his finger grazing my clit—just as the faint click of the front door shattered the haze.
No.
Asher didn’t stop. His hand slid lower, cupping me, the heel of his palm pressing against my throbbing nerves. “Can you be quiet, peque?”
Could I? The pressure between my legs was unbearable. I needed release—needed more of him. I squeezed my thighs together, and Ash finally granted my wish, his thumb circling my clit in slow, deliberate strokes.
“Next time, it’ll be my mouth.” He dipped his fingers into my wetness, dragging them back up to my clit. A helpless whimper slipped out, and he clapped his palm over my mouth. “If it’s too much, bite. Just don’t make a sound, or we’re fucked.” He eased a finger inside me, his other hand never leaving its steady caress. Pleasure built sharp and hot, my hips grinding against him. Asher shook his head. “We have time. Don’t rush it.”
I lost my mind—maybe he did too—because the risk of being caught didn’t matter. The only thing I feared was him stopping when I was this close. His finger moved faster, deeper. “Look at me,” he rasped.
His eyes burned with hunger, the muscles in his arms flexing as he worked me apart. One flick of his thumb, and the ripple began deep inside, spreading through my core. I bit down on his palm, my body quaking with the most intense release I’d ever felt. A satisfied smile curved his lips.
Footsteps thudded on the stairs. My heart slammed against my throat.
“Te quiero,” Asher whispered, pulling his finger free. He licked it, his smile twisting into a devilish smirk. “Like I said—next time, it’ll be my mouth. Start packing, peque. I’ll help.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Kaia
My bookshelf held gaps where my favorite books had been, and two suitcases waited by the door to be hauled into my father’s trunk. A soft knock broke the stillness. “Come in,” I whispered.
Asher peeked inside, already in his riding gear, a red-wrapped package in hand.
“Ready?” he asked, stepping into the room.
I shook my head, and he pulled me into his arms with a sigh. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll visit as soon as I can.”
I pressed my face into his shoulder. Yesterday, I’d been determined to start over. Today, my courage had vanished. Excitement curdled into dread. I wanted to stay—stay in my room, even if it meant fighting with my father every day.
And there was Asher. On bad days, he was always there, ready to talk, ready to hold me. I’d been close enough to be what he needed, too. Now I wouldn’t be.
If I wanted to come home, I’d rely on my father for a ride. Would he even bother? He could claim he was busy, and I’d be stuck until he decided it looked bad not to see his daughter.
