Page 64 of Defending What's Mine

"Very distracted," I confess, my voice softening as he approaches. My pulse kicks into a higher gear, every nerve suddenly alive with anticipation. "You're entirely too distracting."

Asher chuckles lowly, the rich sound sending heat spiraling deep in my belly. "I'll take responsibility."

He climbs onto the bed, careful not to jostle my bruises, settling beside me, propped up on one elbow. The proximity ignites something electric between us, tension humming in the air. My breath catches again when his fingers gently tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch tender yet charged.

"You feeling okay?" he asks softly, his thumb stroking lightly along my cheekbone.

"Better," I whisper, turning my face slightly into his palm. "Especially now."

He leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of my mouth. I instinctively turn toward him, chasing the heat of his lips. He pauses, his gaze searching mine for any sign ofhesitation. Finding none, he dips his head again, this time claiming my mouth completely.

The kiss begins slow—warm and exploratory, his lips soft yet firm as they move against mine. But it quickly deepens, becoming something raw and utterly consuming. My fingers thread through his thick hair, pulling him even closer as he angles his head, deepening the contact.

I part my lips with a soft moan, and Asher immediately responds, his tongue sliding into my mouth, warm and demanding. Desire pools within me, burning away the exhaustion, chasing away the shadows left by Wade and all the darkness we’ve endured. All that matters now is him… his taste, his scent, the heat of his body pressed firmly against mine.

He shifts his weight carefully, still mindful of my bruises, hovering just slightly above me, a gentle hand sliding down to rest on my waist. His thumb strokes a slow, tantalizing circle just beneath the edge of my pajama top, setting every nerve ending alight.

I gasp against his mouth, arching into his touch, craving more.So much more. More of his strength, more of his tenderness, more of the thrilling sensation he awakens in me. Asher pulls back for a moment, his eyes dark and intent, his voice rough with need. "Charlotte, we don't have to?—"

"I want to," I interrupt breathlessly, gripping the front of his shirt, tugging him back down to me. "I need you, Asher. I need this."

He groans softly, surrendering to the hunger between us. His lips find mine again with renewed passion, devouring every sound, every breath. His hand slips beneath the thin fabric of mytop, exploring gently, fingertips tracing slow, scorching patterns across my bare skin. Each touch ignites sparks that ripple outward, leaving me trembling beneath him.

My own hands wander, sliding beneath his T-shirt, exploring the warm, solid planes of his chest. His heart pounds beneath my palm, matching the fierce rhythm of my own. I savor the way his muscles tense and shift under my touch, the soft hiss of breath he draws in as I drag my nails gently across his skin.

"Asher," I whisper, breaking the kiss to press my mouth against the rough stubble along his jawline. "I love you. More than I ever thought possible."

He exhales sharply, capturing my mouth again in another searing kiss, deep and hungry, his body pressed against mine in ways that make it clear he feels exactly the same. "Charlotte," he growls against my lips, his voice thick with emotion. "I love you so damn much."

The declaration sends shivers racing through me, and I cling to him desperately, needing him closer. I slide my leg around his hip, pulling him firmly against me, craving more contact, more heat, more of everything he has to offer.

Asher groans deeply, his hands tightening on my waist as he gently pins me beneath him, mindful of every bruise, every ache. The warmth of his body against mine feels impossibly good—protective yet possessive, gentle yet fiercely passionate. His kisses trail along my throat, hot and lingering, igniting fires that race through every cell in my body.

His voice is rough when he speaks, his lips brushing the hollow at the base of my throat. "You have no idea what you do to me."

My breath hitches again, my fingers tangling in his hair as I pull him back up, desperate to see his face. His eyes are dark and filled with intensity, the emotion raw and unguarded. "Show me," I whisper, almost pleading. "Show me how much you love me."

Asher captures my mouth again, deepening the kiss, his tongue sliding expertly against mine, drawing me deeper into a state of heated bliss. His hands roam freely, touching and teasing, exploring every inch of me, careful yet confident, igniting a heat that blazes brighter with every stroke of his fingertips.

Each touch, each kiss, each whispered word of love chips away at the last remnants of fear and pain. For the first time in my life, I feel truly safe—truly cherished. In his arms, there’s no pretense, no façade—just Asher and me, our hearts beating in perfect rhythm, our bodies moving instinctively together, driven by pure desire and profound love.

He moves inside me, pushing deeper inside me. I suck in a breath, thanking my lucky stars I’ve found this man. He thrusts his hips, diving deeper inside me. I spread my legs, accepting more of him. Deeper. Harder. Together we find a balance.

“I’m so close,” I whisper.

“Come for me, Charlotte. Come all over me.”

My body comes alive, knowing this man loves me is all it takes to have a kaleidoscope of colors bursting behind my eyelids as my orgasm crashes down around me. Wave after wave washes over me as my body calms.

“You’re beautiful, do you know that?”

My eyes meet his, and he leans closer, kissing along my jaw.

“You’re mine.”

I nod. “I’m yours.”

I can tell the moment he loses control, and his orgasm crashes over him. He groans out as he continues to pump his hips. “Fuck, baby,” he whispers as he rides out the last of his orgasm.

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