Page 60 of The Last Strike

“You don’t run from things you’re scared of, Abi.” He shook his head. “But I don’t want to burden you so I will change the succession to pass power to my mother,” he went on, his voice laced with disappointment. “Meeting Khalil is not a decision I made lightly, and I am not making it without looking at every detail and possibility. If I am successful, however, this will be the fastest way to win this war with the least amount of lives lost. It will be our last strike against Khalil. If I am unsuccessful ...” He bit his lip, looking away. “At least I will die knowing I was trying to protect my kingdom. It will be an honorable death.”

Abi could see the determination in his eyes, just as she’d seen last night. There was no changing Asher’s mind. So he was right, and she had two options: to support him or not. Neither would change Asher’s mind about going ahead with this. She wanted him to have a clear head, to know he had her full support.

Abi stepped around Asher so she was in front of him. She put a hand on his bare chest and he turned to look at her. Their eyes locked.

“You have my support,” she said. “For the record, I don’t like it, but you have my support.”

She saw the tension visibly melt from his shoulders and his jaw soften. He placed a hand over hers and their fingers threaded together.

“I’m in your corner, Asher. Always,” she said, and his composure cracked. “You don’t need to change the succession. I will stand up and do what’s required,” she said, because he had been right—she’d been resisting out of fear, and that was not who she was. If Asher could learn to do this, she could too.

For a moment she thought he was going to look away, but he must’ve seen the change of heart in her eyes, because he did the opposite. He drew her in and pressed his lips to hers.

Abi sighed, feeling the stress and tension melt from her body as he held her.

Asher rested his forehead on hers, looking into her eyes.

The raw emotion in his gaze took her breath away. She brushed her lips over his and he took a step forward, backing her up against the mirror.

She parted her lips and he took the invitation. His touch felt like a release and she didn’t think it was one way.

“I need you, Abi,” he said, his voice bordering on a groan.

“I need you too, which is why this is so hard. I want to marry you, Asher. I want that more than anything,” she told him.

He pulled back, cupping her face and looking into her eyes, seemingly searching them. “Marry me tomorrow. I don’t even care about the damn flowers,” he said.

Abi chuckled. “It will be a very casual royal wedding,” she warned.

“I don’t care,” Asher said, his lips finding her neck. “Does it look like I care?”

His lips trailed down her neck and over her collarbone. He pulled her shirt up, threw it over her head, and pushed her breasts together, his mouth finding her nipples.

Abi tipped her head back, moaning as she reached for his pants and unbuttoned them.

They dropped to the floor and Asher lifted her into his arms. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he pushed into her.

Asher groaned and a moan fell from her lips.

His mouth was hot, tingling her skin everywhere he kissed her. He rocked into her like he was unleashing the stress of the last few days. It was rough yet tender, painful yet sweet.

“Abi,” Asher groaned, his voice rough like gravel.

He slammed his hips against hers, pounding into her as they kissed wildly.

“Asher, I’m going to—”

Heat exploded through her body and she whimpered, clutching Asher’s shoulders.

He groaned and shuddered, using the mirror to support their weight.

Eventually, Asher straightened, kissed her tenderly, and carried her to the bed, crawling in beside her and pulling the covers over them.

“Let’s never fight like that again,” he said as he traced her cheek with his finger.

Abi nodded. “Promise.”

Asher smiled, threading his fingers through hers. He brought her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles. “Promise.”

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