Page 53 of Asher

“Don’t you dare. Oh, my gosh, am I…?” Marlowe pulled the blanket up and peered down at herself.

“No, you’re not naked. Yet,” he breathed into the top of her head. “So talk to me. Where’s your beanie?”

A beautiful blush splashed up her neck and over her cheeks, Asher hoped because of his naked comment. “Yeah, about that” —she lifted her arm and ran a hand over her head— “Judy gave me, umm, a more feminine thing to wear. A headband, only I don’t know where it is right now and” —she shrugged both shoulders— “turns out I don’t need it.”

She leaned in, her lips wet and ready, and Asher was a goner. He closed the inches between them and finally, at last, he…. Kissed. Marlowe. Softly at first, but the instant the tip of her tongueswept timidly over his lips, he took control. She was a novice. Tentative. Inexperienced. But willing.

Asher turned on his uninjured side to face her, instantly pressured by his damaged shoulder to knock off any and all moving. Not yet. No way. Not with this woman as close as she was. He swept his good hand down her arm to her hip. She responded in kind, her fingers sliding up his neck into his hair. The feel of those ten little digits on his scalp sent shivers over his belly. Every fiber in his body screamed more, more, more. This was not the place or the time. When he took her to bed, it would not be in a hospital. If he could even do what he wanted when the opportunity arose.

After a thorough, wet kiss that left her breathless, Asher pulled Marlowe in close and just held her. She’d changed, didn’t fight back, didn’t turn him down, or shove away. She seemed to be enjoying the moment. Had they turned a corner in their on-and-off again relationship? He was shaking. She was trembling. But what a relief to finally kiss the woman of his dreams.

“We need to slow down,” he breathed. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’ve never been with a man before, have you?”

She shook her head. “Not till now. But I’m with you, aren’t I?”

Asher beamed at her total lack of experience. “Yes, but I meant intimate, you know, with a guy.”

“Oh, you mean sex. Yeah” —she shook her head— “that. No. I’ve been busy. You know, saving the world, keeping my cover, trying not to get dead.”

Asher leaned in and took her mouth hungrily. Desperately. He’d suspected she was inexperienced, but hearing it and knowing it was all the confirmation he needed.

“Wow,” she breathed when he eased up.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“Me, too. But you’re handsome, and I’ve been ugly for so—”

“You’re not ugly.” He reared back far enough to glare down at her. And damn, that tweaked his injured shoulder. But shit if he cared. “You’re beautiful, Marlowe. Yeah, you hide behind one helluva right hook, and you can cuss like a sailor, but you” —he leaned in and kissed her full on her obstinate little mouth— “are beautiful, inside and out. Trust me. I know.”

She swallowed hard. “You’re just saying that.”

How could she doubt him? Asher was fully into proving just how much he adored her when, damn it, Doc Fitz knocked, and he had to play nice. While Marlowe scrambled to sit up, he rolled to his back and ran a hand over his head. Frazzled, like some frat boy who’d just scored first base. No doubt about it, he needed to take this woman home with him.

“Good morning,” Doc Fitz said cheerfully. She walked straight to his bedside and looked down at him. “Feeling better this morning?”

Asher couldn’t hold back his smile. She knew what he was feeling. “Yes, ma’am. When can I check out?”

“Not happening anytime soon. Not until you can walk down the hall and finish the safe room at your place. Ready for breakfast?” she had the nerve to ask while injecting a hypo of something into his IV.

Oh, yeah, the safe room Alex had ordered every agent to add to their homes. Alex was paying for it, but Asher’s was a work in progress. Slow progress.

“More pain meds?” He hoped not. That crap put him to sleep.

“No, it’s the last dose of your antibiotic. I’d like to get you up on your feet this morning. Last time we tried you didn’t handle it very well. You up for another try?”

“I’ll help,” Marlowe piped up.

“If you can. This man’s stubborn. Reminds me of Beau.”

“Beau?”

Uh-oh. Asher locked eyes with Marlowe. He’d heard the what-the-hell tone in her question.Might as well meet this one head on. “Yes, Beau. He’s Doc Fitz’s husband. He was with me the day we saved you.”

“We?” Heavy sarcasm laced that single syllable.

Here we go. “Yes, we, honey. Beau covered our backs when we exfilled. If not for him, we wouldn’t have made it to the helo.”

“Yeah, but he—”

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