Page 40 of Defending What's Mine

“Do I live up to the fantasy?” I whisper, tipping my head back slightly.

His hands tighten around my waist, pulling me flush against him. “More than live up to it,” he breathes into my lips. “You have no idea how often I’ve… thought about this.”

I reach up, fingers fanning across his chest, savoring the muscle beneath. “Tell me.” My voice is silk edged with challenge. “Tell me how often you’ve thought about me.”

He tilts his head, lips brushing my ear as he whispers, “Every second since the moment I met you.”

A tremor of joy and desire catches in my throat. I lean back to meet his gaze, truth shimmering there. “Same.”

He doesn’t hesitate. His mouth captures mine in a fierce, hungry kiss—strong and possessive, yet feather-light in his tenderness. Our lips mold together, tongues exploring in a dance I’ve dreamed of but never believed would really happen. I cling to him, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck, as though holding on for dear life—and he is, for me, my lifeline.

The kiss deepens, and he guides us toward the bed. Each movement is synchronized, a wordless conversation of need and promises.

He lowers himself onto the edge of the mattress, and I straddle him, knees on either side, heat pooling deliciously beneath me. His hands rest on my hips, thumbs stroking small circles that make my breath hitch.

“This goes against every protocol,” Asher whispers, his gray eyes dark with desire and conflict. “I shouldn’t be doing this.”

“But you are,” I reply, voice soft but steady. I lean forward, resting my forehead against his. “And I’m so glad you are.”

He smiles at me—slow, grateful, as though this moment is more gift than indulgence—and captures my lips again. The kiss becomes urgent, frantic almost as his grip on me tightens.

He flips me in one quick movement, and my back slams against the mattress. Asher’s on top of me in a flash, his eyes boring into mine with an undeniable hunger and need. “I’m going to show you exactly what I’ve been dreaming about. I’m going to make you succumb to every single desire I’ve had.”

“Do it,” I tell him as he pins me to the mattress.

“Charlotte, I’ve wanted you so badly. So fucking much. I probably won’t be able to be gentle. Heard?”

I quickly blink up at him. “Fine, okay.”

He trails a hand up my side, his body already taut with desire. “You look absolutely irresistible in this,” he murmurs, voice low and rough. “Which makes it such a shame…”

I arch an eyebrow. “A shame what?”

His lips curve into a wicked smile. “That I’m going to ruin it.” Without warning, he grips the waistband of my panties andyanks them free in one swift motion. The fabric slides away, and I laugh—breathy and delighted.

“Asher,” I tease, “I could have taken that off myself.”

He leans in, eyes dark with promise. “Maybe,” he whispers against my skin, “but it’s so much hotter this way.”

I have to agree, but instead I tug him closer, wanting his lips on me. “Kiss me,” I whisper, and he indulges me.

He deepens the kiss, his body rocking against me. “Fuck,” he says, unzipping his jeans. “I need all this clothing off. Now.” He quickly stands by the edge of the bed, and removes his clothing in seconds flat. He arches a brow at me. “That means you too, Charlotte. I want to see skin. More of it.”

I sit up, arching my back as I lift the lingerie and fling it across the room.

Asher catches it effortlessly, his smirk slow and knowing. He dips his head, studying me like I’m some prized possession. “That’s perfect,” he rasps, voice raw with need. “I love it when you do exactly as I say.”

I trace the curve of my breast. “Then, sir,” I murmur, pressing the title between my lips, “give me another command.”

The instant I finish that last syllable, his eyes blaze. He strides to the bed with deliberate power, each footstep heavy, echoing in the hush. His heat washes over me as he hovers on the edge, chest rising and falling with controlled breaths.

I lift a brow, smiling up at him. “Sir,” I repeat softly, the word curling around us like an invitation.

He leans in, fingers grazing my hip, sending bright sparks through my veins. His voice is a low growl. “You will obey me. Do you understand?”

My pulse drums in my ears as I nod, the word almost slipping past my lips in a breathless rush. “Yes… sir.”

He draws back just enough to admire me, that fierce intensity in his gaze melting into a slow, predatory grin. “Good girl,” he whispers, and the promise in his voice ignites something deep within me.

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