Chapter 274: Penny
I don’t know what shifts first–the night air, or the way he’s looking at me.
One second we’re carrying empty plates back from the lake, brushing shoulders and laughing over the way Max thought teal would be a “sophisticated” guest room color. The next, his hand grazes the small of my back and something in my chest just… melts.
That look is back.
The one that says mine. The one that makes my knees weak even after all these years,
He sets the dishes on the kitchen counter. Doesn’t say a word. Just turns around and leans back against the marble edge, arms crossed, watching me.
I feel it in my stomach. Low. Heavy. Hot.
I clear my throat, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “You’re staring.”
He doesn’t flinch. “I always stare when something’s art.”
My breath catches.
And maybe that’s it. The click.
The moment the air between us snaps tight, heavy with tension.
He moves, slow and deliberate, like he’s sizing me up–not with hunger, not yet. With reverence. As if he’s trying to memorize the way I look in this moment–barefoot, flushed from wine and laughter, with my oversized sweater slipping off one shoulder.
His voice is rough. “Come here.”
God help me, I obey like I always do.
He pulls me into him, one hand slipping under my sweater to rest warm and wide on my lower back. His other hand lifts my chin and tilts my face toward his. There’s no rush. Just his breath fanning over my lips. His eyes locked on mine.
“You still ask those questions,” he murmurs. “That cloud one earlier?”
I blink. “Which part?”
“The part where you told me not to say bubblegum.”
I smile, nervous. “Well, it’s too obvious.
He grins, but it’s laced with something darker. Something that pools low in my stomach.
“I think clouds would taste like cream and salt,” he says quietly. “Something soft. Something you’d melt into.”
And suddenly there’s nothing soft about it.
His hands slide up my back, grip the sides of my sweater, and tug it off over my head. I gasp, but he’s already kissing downt my throat, slow and hot and open–mouthed.
I feel his smile against my skin. “No bra?” he asks.
1 shrug, breathless. “Didn’t feel like it.”
“Perfect,”
He lifts me by the hips and sets me on the kitchen counter like I weigh nothing. The marble is cold against the backs of my thighs, but his hands are warm, and his mouth is on me again, tracing, every part of my collarbone, my shoulders, the curve of my breast.
I whimper.
“Still with me?” he teases against my skin.
Barely,
I reach for the hem of his shirt and tug, and he helps me get it off. My hands run over the warm muscles of his back, the strong line of his shoulders, the familiar dip at his spine. I kiss the scar on his side–the one from his last mission before he came home for good. The one I kissed a hundred times in silence, when words weren’t enough.
Then he’s carrying me again, bridal–style down the hall, and I cling to him, heart racing like I’m nineteen again and falling
for him all over.
He doesn’t toss me on the bed.
No.
He lays me down. Kisses every inch of my bare stomach, my hips, the inside of my thighs. Slowly unbuttons my shorts and peels them down, followed by that soft black lace I chose just for tonight.
His eyes darken.
“You wore this for me?”
I nod.
“Good.”
But he doesn’t take me yet. He slips one arm beneath my back, lifts me like I’m made of air, and carries me straight into
the bathroom.
He sets me down gently on the little stool by the vanity.
“I’m not done,” he says softly. “Tonight’s not about wild.”
I swallow hard.
“What’s it about then?”
He smiles. Turns on the tap, fills the tub. Adds lavender oil. A few of the fizzy cubes I bought at the boutique doentoyh
Then, candles. He lights five, six, seven of them, scattering them around the room until the whole space glows gold and warm. Like firelight. Like love.
He comes back to me and kneels.
“Let me.”
I lift each leg for him as he washes my feet, one at a time. Massages the arch with slow, expert fingers. Kisses my knee, my thigh, the scar on my ankle from a dance fall years ago.
“You always take care of me,” I whisper, voice shaky.
He glances up. “Of course I do.”
He helps me into the tub, one hand supporting my back, and I sink into the hot water with a sigh. My whole body lets go..
Then he steps in behind me.
Naked.
Strong.
Safe.
I melt against his chest, and his arms wrap around me under the water. He kisses my shoulder, brushes wet hair off my neck, whispers my name like a prayer.
His hands are slow, exploring, kneading away tension. Up and down my back. Over my ribs. Soft strokes between my thighs -not to tease, not yet, just to touch.
I arch into him.
“Can I wash your hair?” he asks.
I nod, unable to speak.
He uses my favorite shampoo. Works it in slowly. Fingers in my scalp. Kisses on the nape of my neck. I moan softly, and he groans low in my ear, the sound vibrating through both our chests.
“You have no idea what you do to me,”
“I think I do,” I whisper.
“No. Not fully.”
He rinses my hair with a jug, careful not to get soap in my eyes. Kisses each shoulder, then rests his chin there, arms wrapped around me.
We stay like that.
Just breathing.
The water goes warm, then lukewarm, and still neither of us moves.
Finally he speaks.
“You’re my favorite thing in this world, Penny.”
I turn my head, press my lips to his. “You’re mine.”
And when he finally carries me to bed, wraps me in warm blankets and even warmer skin, we make love again–quiet and slow, under the candlelight, with our hands and our mouths and our hearts.
And in the silence after, I fall asleep tangled in him, safe in the arms of the man I’ll love for the rest of my life.
Asher is Perfection ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤
Thankyou for creating the ultimate man for us to appreciate!
