by T. K. Leigh
“I’m surprised Grams didn’t mind parting with this piano,” I murmur when he pulls away.
“Let’s just say I made her an offer she couldn’t refuse.”
“Is that right?” I ask breathily.
“Not really.” He winks. “I asked. She agreed.”
I roll my eyes. “You certainly drive a…hard bargain.”
“Oh, darlin’…” He presses his body against mine. “You have no idea how…hard I can drive.”
Laughter consumes me. “Oh, darlin’…” I imitate him to the best of my ability, but I still can’t quite copy the amount of soul he exudes. I bring my mouth to his, nibbling on his bottom lip. “I have a pretty good idea,” I murmur. “But maybe you should give me a reminder of exactly how…hard you can drive.”
He thrusts his pelvis against me so I can feel how much he wants me. “As incredible as that sounds, I’ll have to take a raincheck. Because we’re going slow tonight.”
“Slow?”
He nods as he angles toward me. When his lips land on the sensitive flesh of my neck, I moan, my eyes fluttering closed.
“Yes, Isabella. Slow. Torturously so. I need to worship you. Take my time with you. Make love to you.” His tongue traces a line up to my earlobe, swirling a circle before he nibbles. “Dine on you as if you’re the finest delicacy known to man.” When he pulls back, intense brown eyes meet mine as he holds my face in his firm grip. “Because to me, that’s what you are, a rare treat men would travel miles just to have one sample of. Yet you’re all mine.”
“Yours,” I murmur as his mouth finds mine. “Always.”
He breathes into me, causing a flicker in my chest. This isn’t the first time we’ve kissed, yet that’s what it feels like. I’ve let go of my fears. My inadequacies. My apprehensions. Grams was right. True love has a way of finding you, regardless of how far you run. I’m glad it finally found me, knocked some sense into me, made me open my eyes and allow this man to want me, love me…choose me.
“Hold on,” he whispers against my mouth.
With a smile, I wrap my arms around his neck. He picks me up, carrying me up two flights of narrow stairs. When we cross the threshold into the master suite, he sets me down, ensuring I have my footing. I float my gaze around my surroundings, which are in a bit of disarray, as I predicted them to be.
“Sorry,” he offers as he rushes around the room, picking up discarded clothes and tossing them into the hamper in the far corner. “I hadn’t expected company.” He takes a guitar off the impressive four-poster bed, a view of Gramercy Park out of the bay windows directly in front of it. “And my cleaner hasn’t been here yet this week. I think she’s coming Monday.”
In a flurry, he straightens the lines of the duvet, smoothing out the impression from where I imagine he’d lain earlier, strumming his guitar. He shuffles sheets of lined staff paper together, assembling them into a pile, then tosses them onto a nearby reading chair.
“If you’d rather, we can go to one of the guest rooms. Or I’ll book us a suite at whatever hotel you’d like. I—”
I place my hand on his bicep, stopping him from fussing. My lips quirk into a smile as I drag my body closer to his. “It’s fine. Actually, it’s perfect. Messy and chaotic. Like you.”
He blows out a breath. “I guess I…” He licks his lips. “I guess I’m a little nervous. Is that stupid?”
I swallow hard. “I’m nervous, too.”
“It feels different, doesn’t it?” He laughs shakily. “It’s not like either one of us hasn’t had sex before. It’s not like we haven’t had sex with each other. But this time…”
I lift myself onto my toes, attempting to ease his trepidation with a kiss. “It feels different for me, too. It feels…”
“Right.”
“Yeah.” I smile. “Like all the pieces have snapped into place.”
“And this time, I hope the pieces stay where they belong. I hope you stay where you belong.”
“And where’s that?” I ask playfully.
“Here. With me. Always and forever.”
“Always and forever,” I exhale, sealing our promise to each other.
He digs his hands into my hair, holding my head in place, consuming me. The instant his tongue sweeps against mine, I moan, lightheaded. I fist his t-shirt, yanking him as close to me as possible, but it’s not enough, our clothes an unwelcome barrier.
He tears his mouth from mine, wild eyes staring down at me. “I need to get you out of this dress.”
“I think that can be arranged.” I step back, about to reach behind me to lower the zipper when Asher grabs my arm.
“Wait.”
I peer at him, panicked over the idea he’s changed his mind. Then his expression softens and he waggles his brows.
“I’d like the pleasure of undressing you.”
“Is that right?”
He slowly nods, dropping his hold on me. “That’s right.”
Giving him a flirtatious grin, I face away from him. “Get on with it then.”
I stare ahead, expecting to feel him work the zipper within seconds. But I don’t. There’s nothing, the anticipation causing my heart to pound, breathing to increase, muscles to tighten.
Finally, his fingers brush along my nape, pushing my hair over my shoulder. I remain still, waiting for his next touch. It comes in mere seconds, his hand palming my stomach and pulling me into him. I moan as he grinds against me, teasing. The heat of him so close is sweet agony. Blissful torture. Perfect affliction.
“Something wrong?” he asks in a coy voice.
“No,” I exhale, my breathing ragged. I squeeze my thighs together, trying to dull the ache building inside. “Quite the opposite actually.”
“Oh really?” He circles his hips with more intensity, causing me to whimper.
“Really.”
“Good.”
He removes his hand from my stomach, gripping the zipper. His motions languid, he lowers it, each second painful in its anticipation. I’m ready to rip the damn thing off, desperate to feel Asher again. But just when I don’t think I can take it any longer, a chill whispers from my neck all the way down to the top of my panties.
“Turn around.”
I take several measured steps, my heart thundering when my eyes meet his. He pushes my dress down my arms, allowing the material to pool at my feet before I step out of it. Despite the fact I’m standing in front of him in a black, lacy bra and matching panties, his gaze never strays from mine.
“Your turn,” he murmurs.
The heat in his sensual stare prickling along my skin, I reach for the hem of his t-shirt, lifting it over his head. Dropping it to the floor, I take the opportunity to admire his body. I run my hand along the grooves of the tattoo that extends from his back, over his shoulders, and onto his chest.
My fingers continue down his torso, his shoulders rising and falling in a quicker rhythm as I near his waist. I loosen his belt and unbutton his jeans, lowering the zipper. Returning my eyes to his, I push his jeans down his legs, noticing he’s not wearing any briefs.
I quirk a brow. “Commando?”
“Came in useful tonight, didn’t it?”
I palm his erection. “I’d say.”
With a growl, his mouth clamps over mine, his hand forcefully gripping my hip as he backs me against the bed, his kiss leaving me breathless, thoughtless, soulless. He lowers me onto the mattress, his kiss turning from ravenous and eager to respectful and loving.
He cups my cheek in his calloused hand, a stark contradiction to the desperation with which he just kissed me. But this is what I need from him. This is who he is. Gentle, compassionate, benevolent. But also hungry, passionate, salacious. And I’m the lucky woman who gets to experience the many sides of Asher York. And not the Asher York the public fawns and screams over on a nightly basis as he entertains the masses. But my Asher York.
The same Asher York who built a snowman with me when we were snowed in. The same Asher York whose e
yes grew so fevered, so impassioned as I watched him teach a classroom full of at-risk children about the fundamentals of music, his excitement matching their own when they grasped a concept. The same Asher York whose mere smile in the early mornings at Grams’ lake house lit me on fire more than the most intimate of Jessie’s touches. That should have been the only clue I needed to know I was with the wrong man. Then again, maybe this is the path we needed to take. Maybe our journey needed to be fraught with turmoil, heartache, and anguish so when we finally found our way to each other, we wouldn’t take it for granted.
“Make love to me,” I whisper.
“Gladly.” His husky voice hits me deep in my core, my skin tingling with the promise of his touch. And if I know Asher, he won’t leave a single inch of me unexplored. He’ll make love to my mind, my body, my soul, ruining me for any other man. But there isn’t any other man for me.
Hovering over me, his eyes lock with mine. There’s something so vulnerable about his expression. So different from the confident and assured man who takes the stage nearly every night. He brushes a tendril of hair behind my ear, admiring my complexion.
“I love you, Isabella.”
“And I love you.”
He exhales, briefly hanging his head, allowing my words to bathe him in comfort. Then he seals my mouth with his as he brings his arousal up to me and pushes inside.
I close my eyes, reveling in this sensation of fullness. Asher’s always had a unique ability to push my body higher than I thought possible, to make me feel more complete than I thought possible. But that’s nothing compared to the absolute perfection washing over me as he moves so gently, so tenderly, so lovingly.
“I love you,” I repeat, wrapping my arms and legs around his body as he buries his head in the crook of my neck, each thrust hitting me deeper than the last, each push propelling me higher. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”
With each declaration, my heart swells, my body shivers, my eyes spill over with more tears, this moment bigger than I imagined. No matter what happens, one thing is certain. This is where I belong.
Asher is where I belong.
Chapter Thirty-One
Sunlight filters through the bay windows of the luxurious master suite. I sigh, melting farther into the arm draped along my body. When warm lips land on my exposed nape, I moan.
“I can get used to this.”
“Me, too.” Asher circles his hips against me. “Waking up next to a beautiful woman can certainly prove useful. I won’t have to jerk off first thing in the morning anymore.”
I turn over, resting my chin on his chest and peering into his eyes. “You jerk off first thing in the morning?”
“What guy doesn’t? Morning wood isn’t a myth. It’s a real thing.” He waggles his brows, slyly nodding toward his waist.
“Hmm…” I give him a playful smile. “I’ve been working in the science field all my professional life.” I trail my hand down his chest, toying with a few tufts of hair as I revel in the feel of his firm, toned muscles. “Do you want to know one of the things people ingrained into my head?”
“What’s that?”
“To never take anyone’s word without testing. Without running my own…experiments.” I slither down his frame, his pupils dilating as I near his waist.
“And what experiments are you hoping to run?”
“A scientist never reveals her method.” I pause, frowning. “Actually, she does, but that’s irrelevant. Suffice it to say, you don’t need to worry about what experiments I’ll run.” My voice becomes breathy as I shift the duvet covering our bodies, revealing his hard arousal. “I’m confident you’ll find them rather…pleasurable.”
I wrap my fingers around his girth, his throat vibrating with a heady moan. Lowering my lips to him, I trace a circle around his tip with my tongue, and his body jerks.
“Goddamn, baby…”
I peek up, his stomach rolling with his labored breaths.
“You’re killing me.”
“That’s the point.” I slacken my jaw, about to take him into my mouth when the faint echo of a door opening and closing sounds from downstairs, followed by a familiar voice.
“Asher? You up? It’s me.”
“Shit.” A rush of adrenaline shoots through me, my eyes widening, heart pounding. I roll off him, grabbing the duvet to cover my body. If there were a time I wished I had an invisibility cloak like Harry Potter, it’s now.
I look at Asher, expecting him to be as panicked as me. But he’s as cool as a cucumber.
“Asher,” I whisper-shout. “What are you doing? Your brother.”
“What about him?” A smirk tugs on his lips as he leans against the headboard, finding amusement in the anxiety coursing through me.
“He’s downstairs. What if he comes up here?”
“He won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“You may not have grown up with siblings, but it’s an unwritten rule. Never walk into a room, especially a bedroom, unless you’re prepared to witness kinky-ass sex.”
“But still…” I nervously glance at the door, then Asher, then back again. “What if—”
On a long sigh, he presses his lips to mine, stealing my protest. “I’ll go talk to him so he leaves. Okay?” He arches a brow.
I exhale, anxiety rolling off me. “Thank you.”
When he drags his body from the bed, I can’t help but admire how stunning, how breathtaking he is. And he’s all mine.
“There’s just one thing you have to do for me.”
I snap my head up, his eyes dancing with amusement after having caught me ogling his physique. He grabs his jeans and tugs them up his legs.
“What’s that?”
He approaches, his firm grip on my nape forcing my lips to his. The way he holds me so possessively causes my pulse to spike, a delicious shiver trickling down my spine. When he speaks, his tone is seductive, wanton, needy.
“When I get back, I expect you to suck me off. Got it?”
His words are a magic bullet straight to my core, moisture pooling between my legs. “Anything for you,” I answer huskily.
“Ash? You here?” Jessie’s voice cuts through, getting closer.
We both look to the door, staring at it for several seconds. Then Asher crushes his lips to mine, his kiss bruising and scraping. “God, I love this fucking mouth. I’m coming back for it.” He steals one last kiss before slipping out of the bedroom and making his way down the stairs.
I pull my legs into my body, taking a few moments to process the past twenty-four hours. It seems like a dream, like I’ll wake up and be back in my lonely apartment, not in a Gramercy Park townhouse Asher bought to be near me.
“Did you bring a girl home?”
Jessie’s question tears me out of my thoughts. I look toward it, noticing the door is slightly ajar. I slide off the bed, grabbing Asher’s t-shirt off the floor and tugging it over my body, tiptoeing toward the gap.
“What makes you ask?”
“I could be wrong, but I’ve never known you to wear size eight black heels or carry a Michael Kors bag.”
“Shit,” I curse under my breath, heat rushing over my face.
“I met a girl at the club last night,” Asher answers nonchalantly, as if he had that excuse on the tip of his tongue. It’s not a complete lie. We did see each other at the club. “We had a few drinks and hit it off, so I asked her to come home with me.”
“You can’t bring home random girls. There’s more to consider now. You’re no longer a nobody. You’re somebody. A very big somebody. You need to start acting like it. What if some paparazzi figured out you bought this place and were waiting outside?”
“Judging by the fact you didn’t know I’d brought home a girl until now, I assume that isn’t the case.”
“It’s not just the paparazzi. How do you know—”
“There won’t be any PR issues, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Asher interrupts. “She
’s discreet. So, if you’re done trying to intervene and dictate my personal life, is there a reason you stopped by?”
When he doesn’t immediately respond, I inch closer to the gap between the door and frame, wishing I could be a fly on the wall in the living room right now. I’ve never heard Asher talk to Jessie this way. Not with this amount of irritation. Sure, they’ve fought, and I’ve witnessed my fair share of their disagreements, but there’s something else in Asher’s tone.
“I get paid to manage you. That includes your personal life,” Jessie says finally. “You weren’t answering your phone.” His voice lightens. “Now I understand why. As you know, Ma, Dad, and Grams are in town for tonight’s gig. They hoped to do a late lunch before soundcheck. Would that work?”
“Sure. Of course,” Asher replies evenly.
“Okay.” I expect to hear Jessie’s footsteps as he retreats. Instead, he speaks again. “Grams asked if I wouldn’t mind inviting Izzy. I wanted to run it by you first.”
I blink, remaining completely still.
“Doesn’t bother me.”
“Okay. I’ll call her and see if she picks up. It’s been practically impossible lately, but it’s worth a shot.”
“Now?” Asher’s voice rises in pitch.
“Why not?”
I spin around, my eyes searching the bedroom for my phone, not finding it. Then I remember my cell is currently in my purse. Which is downstairs. Which supposedly belongs to the girl Asher brought home.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
I grasp the doorjamb, feeling dizzy. Asher and I haven’t discussed when we’ll tell Jessie, but I’m sure he doesn’t want him to find out like this.
“Wait!” Asher shouts, his demand reverberating against the walls.
“What is it?” Jessie replies.
“Uh… It’s early,” he stammers. “Do you really think she’ll be up?”
“It’s not that early. It’s after ten. If you’re up, she’ll be up.” He lowers his voice. “Ah, here it is.”