Page 95 of Take Me Home

“Do you have any idea how good it feels for me to do that to you? To see you like that?” He groaned like he was remembering, feeling it all over again, and kissed her. Staying in close, he said, “When you’re like that, I’m like that, too, I promise. I’m just as turned on. More, probably.”

When she didn’t speak, still embarrassed at how greedily she’d rocked herself against his mouth, he pressed his hips into hers, and she felt the hard length of him. The warm firmness of his body molded to hers made the tension in her own body give a little. He was a weighted blanket in human form. And yet, under the calm that emanated from him, the feel of him still hard and pressed to her and the open desire in his words stirred her own need back up.

“As for the feelings part…” He tipped his head back just enough to look her in the eye and smoothed her hair back from her face. “I’m ahead of you there, too. I meant what I said. It’s been a long time.”

Earlier, when he’d admitted he’d been jealous of Justin, even back in high school, her reaction surprised her. She didn’t feel trapped. It made her feel secure. Safe.

“I didn’t even really know you then,” he said. “Not like I do now.”

“And now you’re wondering what you were thinking?” she said on a watery laugh.

One finger swiped affectionately across her eyebrow and down to her jaw. “Pretty sure I’m falling for you.” A half shrug, a little shake of his head. “Don’t panic, okay?”

The swelling in her chest was different from the clawing, needy sensation that had made her pull away, the ache in her throat replaced by a stretch in her cheeks, a smile she couldn’t tamp down. And the tears that sprang back to her eyes were of an entirely different kind. “I won’t panic.”

“Good.”

If he hoped she’d say she was falling for him, too, he left no room for her to fumble over the words, covering her mouth with his. It was there, on the tip of her tongue. Something small.Me,too. But instead of breaking away to let her say it, Ash deepened the kiss, hands slipping down to her hips and flexing there, and soon she was following his backward shuffle to the bed.

She lay on the soft flannel bedspread and watched Ash toe off his shoes, loosen his tie, unbutton the collar of his shirt, and pull it over his head. She shimmied out of her skirt while he yanked off his belt. Once they were both in nothing more than their underwear, he sat by her hip and traced a finger across the top of her bra, over the swell of one breast, into the dip of her cleavage, and over the other. His hand continued around to her back, and she arched for him to unclasp her bra. This time, he managed it on the first attempt instead of desperately tugging it down. He gave her a victorious grin that made her giggle, giddy with affection for him as she lifted her arms to let him slide her bra off.

The grin vanished as soon as he got a full look at her. Thank God they’d turned on the bedside lamp because otherwise she would have missed that dark hunger in his eyes. That look could power a whole city block.I want to touch more of you than I did in the barn,he’d told her earlier.

Her nipples pinched into little peaks, aching for contact. “Touch me.”

He didn’t need any more invitation than that, covering one breast with his palm. She fumbled for his hips, tugging him to lie atop her, and he settled between her legs, pressing his erection right up against her. “You need me close? Right here?”

She wanted him even closer than this, but every point of their bodies that could be in contact already was, especially when he dropped his mouth to her neck. She nodded, then realized he couldn’t see it. “Yes.”

He was everywhere. Just when she got used to one sensation, he switched to another kind of touch, another part of her body.His palm slipped into the back of her underwear, squeezing a handful of ass cheek and lifting her up against him, before he ducked to capture her breast with his mouth, teeth grazing her nipple, then closing his lips around it and sucking hard. He shifted his body back up to meet her again with a slow, hard grind.

She couldn’t believe they both still had their underwear on. They were dry humping like teenagers. But God, it felt good. She could come like this, without even getting to feel him where she wanted him. The muscles in his arms and shoulders were threaded taut from supporting his weight, as if he didn’t understand she wanted him to crush her. “Closer,” she said. “You can come closer.”

“I want to be inside you.” The way he said it seemed to encompass more than just sex, like he had the same strange desire she did, to burrow through his skin, to curl up inside his chest.

She pushed his boxer briefs halfway down his ass, loving the hard muscles there, which flexed as he ground himself against her. When she didn’t finish the task, he made an impatient sound in the back of his throat and pushed off her until she focused enough to shove his underwear the rest of the way and wriggle out of her own.

He was beautiful, stretched out above her to open the nightstand drawer, all lean muscle, long lines, and smooth planes. She ran her fingers down the ridges of his abs, making his stomach clench. His shaky laugh cut off into a deep groan as she wrapped her fingers around him and slid down and back up his length. He was in the middle of tearing a condom open but dropped his forehead to her shoulder, apparently too caught up to do anything else with it, so she took it and rolled it onto him. She slid her hands up his sides and urged him closer until his chest pressed firmly against hers, and he positioned himself at her entrance.

Instead of pushing into her, though, he lifted his face to look at her. His breathing was labored, the tendons in his neck strained tight, but the kiss he pressed to her lips was tender. He reached between them, and she jerked, surprised by his fingers on her again. Dear God, was he really going to keep teasing her? She would combust.

“Asher,” she said sharply. “Get in me.”

And then, with an amused huff, he did.

She wanted to cry from the relief of finally having him there, from the pressure and stretch of the welcome intrusion. He pushed in slowly. Too slow. She whined when he retreated, but he came back, pushed deep inside her. They both released shuddering exhales, husks of sound scraping through the silence.

Hazel was about to beg him tomovewhen he began to rock into her, back muscles flexing under her palms, mouth open against her neck. “Goddamn, Haze,” he said, both strain and awe in his voice. The pace was slow at first. She felt everything, every movement like shoreline waves crashing in and dragging out. Under her hands, his shoulders began to tremble—“You’re shaking,” she marveled—and he snapped his hips harder into hers, giving in to some needier drive.

She understood now what he’d been trying to tell her, that seeing her on the edge of losing it turned him on. She pulled his face up so she could see it again, that wild hunger, and when she did, when his impossibly dark, desperate gaze met hers, and she took in his kiss-swollen mouth, the tense crease between his eyebrows, the ragged sound of his breath, something snapped inside her.

She didn’t know how he understood immediately what she was doing and maneuvered them, but quickly they were sitting upright, and she was straddling his hips. His head tipped back,letting her hold his face and kiss him hard as she rolled against him, staying deep, getting the pressure she needed. His hands hovered at her waist and then gripped tight enough to leave a mark. The thought of it, his fingerprints on her skin after, quickly morphed from a curiosity to a need.

“Fuck, I’m—”

She knew already. He was bucking up into her, giving her hips an extra pull every time she rocked against him. She was right there, too, tried to say as much, to assure him he could let go, that maybe she needed his release to get to her own.

“Haze,” he panted. “Come with me.”

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