"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.