Page 50 of Asher

She smoothed her palm over his warm belly, loving the brush of crisp curly hairs against her skin. Spreading her fingers, she wondered what he’d taste like. He smelled of soap and clean sheets. Of course, he’d probably been bathed after surgery and maybe earlier today too. Would he taste like that elusive male scent that was uniquely Asher Downey?

Just because she could, she pressed her lips to his neck and planted a kiss there. Then another. Then a lick. Her nostrils flared at the intimate flavor bursting over her tongue. She’d never kissed a man before, certainly not his neck. She hadn’t kissed anyone, and she wouldn’t take advantage of Asher now. Wouldn’t think of going farther. Not while he was asleep. If only he’d open his eyes and then maybe—

Nope. Absolutely not.

Content with the scant mischief she’d accomplished, Marlowe settled her cheek against his chest. Oh, to be brave enough to kiss his lips. To wake him with a kiss. Maybe someday. Not tonight. He needed rest more than her foolish wanderings. Rest and healing.

Her hand was still caught beneath his. Oddly, it felt good there, not caught as much as… connected. That was a better word. She and Asher were inexplicably connected in ways she didn’t understand. It was a frightening, wonderfully new feeling, to be wanted.

Not only wanted but—dare she think it?—treasured? Like Kelsey and Libby were treasured. Marlowe was a fool standing at the edge of the life she’d always wanted, but had never been worthy of. Her toes were curled over the edge of that steep cliff. If she was wrong, if she’d misread Asher, she’d never recover. She would fall straight into despair and sink out of sight.

Somehow, she’d have to find the strength to go back to the only life that had given her a reason to get up each morning. Namely, rescuing vulnerable women. Getting them on helicopters and far away from the Taliban. She certainly couldn’t work with Alex anymore, not if Asher cast her aside. She wasn’t fit for nine-to-five jobs. Society had scraped her off its uppity boot heel and cast her aside a long time ago. She was born trash and, if Asher rejected her, she’d die trash. The only place where she’d ever fit was the last place on earth intelligent people wanted to go. Afghanistan. Maybe she could work for the FBI or CIA, or someone in the same business as Alex. There were other organizations out there that rescued women at risk, weren’t there? The TEAM couldn’t be the only one.

But what if she didn’t fall? What if she flew, if she soared high, like an eagle? What if this uplifting feeling for Asher was real, not her imagination, then…?

Marlowe honestly didn’t know what came next.

She’d never entertained these jumbled-up feelings before. Just thinking about that fairy tale myth called true love made her question herself. What Kelsey had with Alex was real. He adored her. Sure, she was beautiful and Marlowe wasn’t. Looks mattered, but the gentle way that he’d held his wife…

The warm feelings inside the Stewarts’ home…

The way Kelsey melted into Alex when he arrived home…

Those qualities were rare, close to unbelievable. Yet they existed. Marlowe had seen them in action. She knew, she just knew that, even if Kelsey grew warts and had bad breath, Alex would still love her.

Lexie and little Bradley weren’t traumatized. They’d probably never been beaten a day in their lives. Probably never went to bed or to school hungry. Of course, they hadn’t. The man who’d made it his business to end a wicked creature like Jamah wouldn’t mistreat his children. Marlowe hadn’t exactly seen how Alex treated his kids, but she couldn’t imagine him hurting them or not wanting them. He was a good man, and good men took care of everyone. What he had with Kelsey was real. It just might be time to fly. Marlowehadwitnessed true love and of Kelsey, Libby, and Judy could find it, so could she.

Asher groaned in his sleep. His fingers tightened around hers, squeezing them. He arched his back. Marlowe let him hold on as tightly as he needed. Lifting up onto one elbow, she blew gentlyover his face, hoping to distract him from whatever nightmare was troubling him.

Curiously, he turned his head towards her and drew in a full breath. His eyes were still closed. She blew over his face again, pleased that he seemed to enjoy it, despite the cannula in his nose. He inhaled deeper that time. His belly expanded. Still gripping her fingers, his body went limp again. He hadn’t awakened, but he knew she was there.

“I think I might be in love with you,” she whispered into his ear. “I’ve had feelings for you since that day you found me. It’s got to be love, right?” She still wasn’t sure. Was this feeling what happened when you stepped off the edge? Either you fell or you flew? Was this flying?

She eased back under the blanket alongside Asher. Her fingers were still cradled in his palm. She closed her eyes, intending on dreaming about him. After all, she was in bed with him and—

OOOMPH!She was suddenly pressed beneath the full weight of—

Oh my.Her naughty fingertips danced over a very bare and firm, definitely male, butt. Instinctively, her palms flattened on that backside and her mouth went dry. Was he asleep? Awake? Did she care? She had his ass where she wanted it and—

“C-can’t breathe,” he huffed into her neck. “Can’t reach… her. Too far away. Help me. Help her!”

Her? Her who?

His back arched. His body was strung so tight that his spine bowed. She moved her hands from his backside and cupped hisrough, sweaty jaw. “Asher, what’s wrong? You need to lay back down. Your shoulder. You shouldn’t lean—”

“You don’t get it. I can’t reach her. Can you? Help her!” He was on his hands and knees, now, nearly straddling Marlowe. The blanket was gone. He’d shoved it aside. Sweat dripped off his nose. He reached his good arm over her head, straining for something she couldn’t see. “She’s too far away. God, she’s dying. I can’t save her!”

“Honey, I’m here. I’m right here. Look at me,” Marlowe ordered.

“She’s dying, gawddamn it. The bomb… We’re buried. No time! Save yourself!”

“Asher, no. She didn’t die and neither did you. I’ve got you, honey. You’re safe. You’re with me and—”

He collapsed on Marlowe, breathing hard, his heartbeat pounding through his body and hers. He couldn’t seem to catch his breath. Couldn’t stop panting.

“No, God no,” he rasped. “Not you, too.”

And enough.

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