Page 63 of The Consequence of You
Taking hold of his hands, I turn them over and examine his knuckles.
“We both need to get clean.” He helps me up, and I’m fully expecting his rejection again. Except he pulls his shirt off one handed. Then he undoes his trousers and stands in front of me in just his boxers. That’s when I see the purple bruising on his torso. I must wince because Asher tips my chin up and whispers,
“It’s not as bad as it looks.”
I gently trace his mottled skin as he carefully unbuttons my top, before pulling it over my head. He unbuttons my jeans and peels them down my legs. I step out of them, steadying myself by leaning on him.
The thought of him being hurt scares me in a way I wasn’t expecting. I was afraid for myself, but when Asher got there, all I could think about was that if he got hurt, I would never forgive myself. I would be upset if anyonegot hurt trying to protect me, but it was more than that. It was the thought ofAsherbeing hurt.
A lump forms in my throat, and no matter how hard I swallow, it doesn’t go away.
He leads me to the now full bath and I strip off my underwear under his soft gaze. He turns off the tap and tests the temperature before holding my hand as I step in.
I scoot forward and he peels off his boxer shorts before climbing in behind me. There’s more than enough room for both of us in the huge tub, and for the first time, I appreciate the extravagance of my bathroom. He widens his legs, and I nestle back into his embrace. Exhaling, I realise how on edge I’ve been.
For a few minutes, we just lie silently, both lost in our own thoughts.
Asher reaches for a soft cloth. Slowly, reverently, and methodically, he cleans my skin, showing me a tenderness he keeps hidden from the rest of the world.
Usually, when we touch each other, it’s frantic and hurried. This is new for us, and it’s got me feeling things I’ve never felt before.
Once he’s finished cleaning the rest of my body, Asher dabs delicately at the cut across my throat before moving to the purpling bruise where Carlo sunk his teeth into my shoulder. At the same time, he gently runs his other hand across my bare shoulder and plants soft kisses on my neck, and despite the warm water, it makes me shiver.
He’s being so careful, but truthfully, the couple of painkillers I swallowed down in the car have taken the edge off the pain. Maybe it’ll be worse tomorrow but, right now, all I can feel are his pillowy lips caressing my skin.
Once he’s satisfied I’m thoroughly clean, he drops the cloth, replacing it with his hands. His fingers follow thesame path, gently exploring and methodically mapping my body, never getting to the places I want him most, though. He avoids them, each time getting closer until I’m squirming. The more I squirm, the more I feel him react.
He stiffens behind me, and I take pleasure in knowing I’m not the only one affected. I wriggle again and he groans.
“Fuck… I’m trying to be a gentleman, but you’re making it so goddamn hard.”
Lifting his hands, I place them on my breasts, squeezing my hands over his.
“The gentlemanly thing to do would be to distract me. To remove any memory of that man’s touch by replacing it with yours.” Tipping my head back to look at him, I bite my lip. “Please?”
That’s all it takes, because he stands, lifting me with him. Water sloshes over the sides of the bath, and I expect him to carry me straight to the bedroom. But he doesn’t move at the pace I’m used to. Instead, he places me on the floor and grabs a warm towel and gently dries me off. Not even reaching for his own towel, he stands dripping while he makes sure I’m dry. Only then does he wrap a towel around his own waist.
He leads me to the bedroom, and I sit on the edge of the bed. He disappears back into the bathroom and comes back with a jar of my moisturiser.
I lie down and he kneels on the bed next to me. He scoops out some of the cream, warming it in his hands before he does the same thing he did in the bath, stroking and teasing me until I’m a ball of wanton desire. His restraint is admirable, but his dick looks like it’s pitching a tent under his towel, so it’s definitely not just me whowants this. Seems like I’m going to have to take matters into my own hands.
“Asher…” I plead, gently tugging the hem of his towel. He shuts his eyes for a couple of seconds, but when he opens them again, he fixes me with a heated stare.
“Fuck it.” He yanks his towel off and drops it to the floor. He kneels next to me on the bed, in all his naked glory. They should build statues of this guy. He is perfection.
There’s still a gleam of damp from the bath, and his wet hair falls messily in damp waves. And he’s staring at me. Me - the loner. The recluse. The misfit. On paper, we are so utterly unlikely, and yet, here we are. It’s safe to say neither of us could have predicted this thing between us. At this moment, I don’t care to explain it, I just want more of it.
His eyes are hungry, and his gaze makes my skin burn for him.
“Fuck, Callie. You have never looked more beautiful, laid out here for me. All mine.”
My pulse stutters and there’s a slow, delicious flip low in my tummy when he uses the shortened version of my name. Biting the inside of my cheek to suppress my smile, I know I shouldn’t want his words. I shouldn’t need them, but I do. This was only ever supposed to be physical, but hearing him say my name with such reverence, describing me as beautiful, andhis, I can’t deny it feels like so much more. For months I told myself I was safe from falling for this man.
How utterly wrong I was.
He leans down and kisses me. Parting my lips, our tongues tangle together, every movement slow andmeasured. We devour each other as if we need one another to breathe, to survive,to exist.
Wrapping my legs around him, I draw his hard body closer to mine. My nipples are sharp enough to cut glass as our chests collide. My skin throbs for him. All the teasing has me so on edge I wonder if I could come just from the way he’s kissing me.
