Asher (Ashes & Embers Book 6)

by Carian Cole

  Her lip curves up in a smile hearing that.

  “I feel the same. I wanted to see and hear you on stage without you knowing I was there. I felt the connection to you too. Even with all those people in the club, I felt like it was only me and you.”

  I trail my fingers up and down her arm as we stare at each other.

  “It’s always been like that between us.”

  Her chest rises with a deep breath. The silhouette of her breasts is visible beneath the thin white T-shirt. My cock throbs against the soft cotton towel wrapped around me.

  “I called and texted you.” Her voice pitches. “I stayed awake all night. Hoping—” She looks down at the floor and doesn’t finish. When she raises her eyes to my face again, her forehead is creased, her lips pursed.

  The disappointment in her eyes guts me. “I’m sorry. My battery died. I didn’t have any of my stuff.” I decide not to tell her about the mugger. It’ll only upset her. “I needed some time to think, Em. To clear my head. I hate that you were so upset and alone all night. But I was afraid if I went back too soon, we’d fight again, and I just couldn’t. I didn’t want to make things worse.”

  “Where were you all night?”

  Getting wacked in the head and doling out relationship advice to someone named Lucky who’s afraid to be in love with his wife. And I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Not for a second.

  “I ran into someone else having a shitty night. We went and had a drink and talked all night. We slept in his car, and then he drove me home.”

  Her eyes dilate in disbelief.

  “Seriously?” she says. “You slept in a car?”

  “It’s true. I never shoulda left the apartment, Em. Everything about it was perfect.” I let my eyes drift over the curves of her body, then back to her face. “Everything about you is perfect. Your hair, your eyes, your nose, your lips.” I move closer to her. Close enough to smell her perfume—the scent I love on her that smells like vanilla, lavender, and memories. “Your body, the tattoos.” Our eyes lock again. “You. You’re beautiful and perfect inside and out, and I adore every single thing about you.”

  Her eyes drop to my mouth, her lips parting slightly.

  Subtle hints of desire spark between us, weaving in and out of the uncertainty lingering from last night. Moving my hand to cup the back of her neck, I pull her to me, covering her mouth with mine. My mind twists slightly as my lips touch hers—softer, fuller—different, but still Ember.

  Pulling away slightly, I stare down into her eyes, needing to see it’s really her.

  “Asher…” She gently tugs me back to her, pressing her lips softly to mine. “I love you,” she whispers. “I’ve been waiting to say that to you. I needed to believe it was real first.”

  My breath hitches, and my heart leaps around like a baby goat. “Is it? Real?”

  A shy smile curves her lips. “It is. I’m sure it is.”

  “Em…” I breathe, pulling her closer, until there’s no space between us. “I’ve been waiting so long to hear you say that.” I hold her face in my hands. “I love you too.” Leaning down, I kiss the tip of her nose. “So much.”

  Still kissing her, I back her up until her legs hit the bed. She perches on the mattress, leaning her head back to deepen the kiss, opening her mouth to let my tongue entwine with hers.

  Pulling back, I fist her hair, studying her face, searching her eyes, making sure she’s with me. I need her to understand and believe how much I love her. How much I want her. I don’t ever want her to doubt my feelings for her again.

  “I can never get you out of my head. I’ve been going out of my fucking mind thinking about you and wanting you.”

  “You’re sure? You want this me?” Her voice shakes with vulnerability.

  “I’m positive, baby.”

  She grips my shoulder tight as my words sink in.

  “I want you too,” she whispers.

  My pulse goes into overdrive as I bend down and kiss her while lifting her and moving her to the center of the new bed. She watches me with half closed eyes as I crawl on top of her. Grabbing the hem of her white T-shirt, I tug it up until she raises her arms for me to pull it off. I suck in a breath at the sight of her bare breasts—perfect, full, hard pink nipples tantalizing me.

  Mesmerized, I trace my fingertips over the tattoo of a jeweled cross and butterfly that starts over her breastbone, and extends between her breasts, ending a few inches above her belly button. Goose bumps sprinkle over her taut skin, and she arches her body up into my touch. Another matching filigree, butterfly, and jewel design spans across her belly, disappearing over her hips on each side. These are new, as are the ones I saw last night on her arms and legs. Ember’s always loved body art, but her fear of needles and fainting prevented her from getting all the ink she wanted years ago. We picked most of my artwork together, and she came with me to all my tattoo appointments. I always thought she would look beautiful with body art, but that was an understatement.

  She smiles dreamily, and my heart thunders with love for her. Every dream and wish I’ve had over the years is coming true right here, right now. I’m afraid to stop touching her, afraid she might disappear into thin air if I don’t stay physically connected to her in some way.

  “You look absolutely stunning,” I say hoarsely. Her sultry hourglass figure has returned—not by surgery—but with what had to be hardcore work with the proper food and workouts almost nonstop for the past two months. She’s obliterated the visions I had of her wasting away in a trapped sleep, unable to live. Nothing about the woman in front of me is suspended, incapacitated, breakable, or withering away. She doesn’t need me to protect her or do for her anymore.

  She’s a goddess.

  Strong. Determined. Alive. My partner.

  Ready and wanting, to be my wife again in every way.

  Kneeling between her legs, I remove her sweatpants and panties and run my hands over the smooth skin of her thighs. I lower my lips to the watercolor image of flowers, rainbows, and butterflies splashed across her skin.

  “I’m sorry I don’t have the pretty lingerie on like last night,” she whispers, twirling a lock of my hair in her hand.

  I crawl back up her body and plant a kiss firmly on her lips. “You don’t need lingerie, baby. You’re gorgeous exactly as you are.”

  A hint of insecurity still lingers in her eyes.

  “Em, you look fuckin’ incredible. I thought you were gorgeous before, but you’re even more beautiful now. You’re glowing. My insides are shaking just looking at you, being close to you. I feel like I’m fifteen again, and I somehow got the prettiest girl in the world.” She giggles as I rain kisses on her cheeks, her forehead, her nose. “I love you. I love you in jeans and sweatpants and lingerie. It’s all perfect because it’s you.”

  “I think you’re perfect too.”

  My stomach muscles twitch as her fingertips skim over my abs on their way to the hem of the towel wrapped around my hips. I moan against her mouth when she unravels the knot of the towel and throws it to the side.

  Ignited, I skim my hand down the length of her body. Her curves are like a racetrack. I follow the path of my hand with my lips. Nipping. Sucking. Licking. Marking her with tiny love bites in secret places. Her body writhes and twists into mine. Sighs, giggles, and whimpers drift from her lips as I explore her.

  My cock grows harder by the second, my skin searing with heat as my blood pumps faster. Her hands rove across my back, then down my spine, lightly digging her nails in. Wrapping her leg around mine, she moves the arch of her foot up and down my calf. Caressing. Exploring.

  Her lips and thighs part simultaneously, wanting more. She grips my ass, her palms warm and possessive. I caress her sweet folds, gliding my fingers over the silkiness of her delicate skin. A low moan escapes her lips when I slowly slide a finger inside her. She’s so wet, I almost lose my mind. My cock throbs against her leg as I insert a second finger and circle her clit with my thumb, teasing her further.
She pulls me up to her, and I kiss her hungrily as she gasps for breath against my lips.

  Her breath is hot—her pussy is hotter.

  “Asher…” she pants as she grinds against my fingers moving languidly in and out of her. “I want you…please…”

  She reaches for my cock as I push her legs farther apart, guiding me to her. Her pussy is tight as a vise, hot and soaking, as I slowly push into her. She gasps at the first inch and reaches up to clench my shoulders, pulling me down to her waiting lips, pulling me deeper inside her.

  My mind is spinning like a carousel. Wanting to go fast. Wanting to go slow. Wanting to do everything right.

  Wanting to just hold on to this moment forever so it never ends.

  “I love you,” I whisper between kisses, stilling myself. She wraps her legs around my waist, holding me deep inside her.

  I feel owned. Wanted. Loved. Home.

  “I want to stay like this forever,” she whispers back, gently moving her fingers through my hair.

  We kiss. Long. Slow. Deep. Soft. Not moving. Melding together. Our hearts beat against each other. Her walls relax, and I sink farther into her. We rock slowly together, lost in the waves of ecstasy flowing through us.

  She stares up into my eyes, hers shimmering with emotion. “I finally feel home. I finally feel like you’re mine.”

  Echoes of my exact thoughts.

  I brush my fingers across her flushed cheek. “Baby, you’ve always been home. And I’ve always, forever, been yours.”

  I move in and out of her with long, slow strokes, delving deeper each time. She clenches around me and moves her hips in rhythm with mine. It’s a perfect dance. Our bodies and hearts reconnecting.

  Remembering.

  Her eyes close, and her head falls back into the fluffy pillows, a content, beautiful smile on her lips as she rides the waves with me, lost in that euphoric place. I want to capture the moment like a snapshot and cherish it. It’s been too long since I’ve seen her look so incredibly happy and at peace.

  I vow to do whatever I can to make her—us—this happy every day, for the rest of our lives. To never forget how we almost lost it forever.

  Oblivious to my thoughts, she grips my waist, pulling my thrusts deeper and harder into her with new urgency. I dive into her neck, ravenous for her, kissing her, sucking her flesh between my teeth. The scent of her perfume, the sound of her ragged breathing, intoxicates me.

  Crying out, she arches up into me, wanting more. Closer. Harder. Deeper. Witnessing her come undone with me, being buried inside her, drives me wild and right to the brink of my control. We explode together, her name on my lips, mine on hers.

  It’s perfect and cathartic and worth every second of waiting to be with her. I’d have waited a thousand years to make love to my wife again.

  After, when she’s warm and mewing into my neck with sighs of pleasure, I reclaim her soft lips. Our bodies are still melded together, muscles relaxing, heartbeats lulling.

  In a moment, I’ll pull the comforter over us, wrap her in a love burrito, and sing her to sleep.

  But first, I lean up on my elbows and cradle her head in my hands.

  “Open your eyes, baby,” I whisper. “Let me see you.”

  Her lids slowly open, and she smiles. “I love you,” she murmurs dreamily.

  I’ve needed to see my wife looking back at me with love and recognition in her eyes for so fucking long.

  Finally, finally I do.

  I see her.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  I wake with a jolt and a gasp.

  My chest heaves in time with my racing heart.

  Beside me, Asher stirs awake and leans over me to study my face. “Babe? You okay?”

  I put on a smile and summon up my voice. “I think I had a dream.”

  Tightening his arms around me, he nudges his nose along my cheek and kisses my mouth. “I think I’m in a dream,” he murmurs. “Tell me you’re really here, and we just had the most amazing sex ever. Tell me it wasn’t a dream.”

  I smile, feeling safe and warm with my husband under the new soft sheets. “It wasn’t a dream.”

  It was wonderful, loving, sensual, and everything I hoped making love with Asher would be.

  “Thank God,” he breathes, moving his lips down to kiss my throat, his hand moving beneath me to cup my ass, pulling me closer to him. Suddenly, his head pops up. “Are you hungry? I’m starving.”

  His hair is all ruffled up, making him look adorably goofy and sexy. Laughing, I try to comb it with my fingers. “I am a little hungry.”

  “You stay here. I’m gonna run down to the kitchen and get us something to nibble on.”

  “Do you want me to come with you?” I always feel a little spoiled having a man who’s a famous rock star doting on me.

  He kisses my nose, then my forehead. “Nope. I don’t think I ever want you to leave this bed.”

  He climbs out of bed and crosses the room, totally naked, to his new dresser.

  “Did I tell you how much I love the furniture?” He pulls a drawer open. “You didn’t have to put all my stuff away for me. I would’ve done that.”

  “I like doing things for you.”

  My eyes travel all over his body as he pulls on a pair of gray sweats. Lord, the man is so crazy gorgeous. Every inch of him is smooth and hard as a rock. Long, wavy hair cascading over his shoulders like a shampoo commercial. My insides clench, dampening my thighs as I watch him stretch his arms over his head, remembering how it felt to have him moving inside me, staring into my eyes.

  Turning back toward the bed, he catches me watching him and winks at me. “I’ll be right back, babe.” He points to Teddy on the floor and says to him playfully, “You stay outta my spot while I’m gone. I’m not sharing her today.”

  While Asher’s downstairs, I freshen up in the bathroom and find my panties and T-shirt. Sporadic memories of the dream I had while napping earlier linger in my mind. Over the past month, I’ve had the same recurring dream, and it always leaves me feeling unsettled.

  In the dream, someone, whom I cannot see, is trying to rip my face off.

  Is that you, Ember? Are you trying to remind me you haven’t gone away?

  I push thoughts of the dream out of my head when Asher comes back, carrying a wooden tray with lattes, toast with cinnamon butter and honey, and yogurt with granola and blueberries. My stomach growls as my eyes take in all the deliciousness.

  “It’s kinda late for breakfast, but all this seemed good.”

  “It’s perfect,” I reply when he sits on the bed next to me, placing the tray in front of us. All I had to eat last night were crackers that were in the apartment pantry. In addition to feeling hungry, I still feel exhausted from not sleeping last night.

  “I have some questions,” Asher says in a curious tone after he takes a bite of his toast.

  Wiping latte foam from my lip, I grin. “I had a feeling you would.”

  “When did you decide you wanted to change parts of how you look? Was it sudden, or have you been thinking about it for a while?”

  I mix my blueberries and granola into my yogurt as I try to remember when I first had the idea of plastic surgery. “I started thinking about it a few months ago after I read an article about subtle modifications. But I decided it was something I was definitely going to do when I was in Maine.”

  “Does Katherine know?”

  “We talked about it. She was a little nervous about me going through with it but still supportive.”

  “Did you do it because of me?” His brows pinch together. “I hope you weren’t trying to be what you thought I wanted you to be.”

  “No,” I say. But the answer isn’t that simple. “Not really. Maybe part of my reason was for you. Mostly the body changes—so I didn’t look so frail and sick. Remember Sydni made that comment about the coma diet? That really bothered me. I didn’t like how boney I looked.”

  “Em, I hate that you felt you had to change yourself for me or bec
ause Sydni made a rude comment. I love you exactly how you looked. I was attracted to you in every way. I’d never want you to change.”

  “I know that.” I do, without a doubt. “But I also know that you’ve been struggling. Not physically, but mentally, with shifting your thoughts and feelings for me from vegetable to wife.”

  He pales. “Please don’t use that word. I hate it.”

  “Hey,” I say softly, touching his bare arm. “I don’t mean it in a bad way. We have to be able to talk about this, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “I guess, for me, changing was part of moving forward, living this second chance I was given my way. The amnesia is one thing—I can’t change that. I hope someday it gets better, but it’s out of my control. But I can control what I do and how I look. I guess, in a way, I needed that. Some control to feel like this life is mine.”

  “I just don’t want you to change because you think you have to, to make me, or anyone else, happy. I don’t want you to feel like you have to be how you used to be. I know I’ve made you feel that way, and I’m sorry. But you’re right—this is your life, and you deserve to love everything about it and make your own choices.”

  I finger the key necklace, wishing I could remember my past. Even though I feel happy now, settling into my life, I still hate the gaping hole in my memories. It’s like I can’t rewind any farther than waking up in the hospital to see what happened before that day. I can’t remember my childhood. Or my grandparents. I can’t remember any birthdays. I don’t remember my wedding or giving birth to my daughter. Some of those life events I’ll never be able to re-live, and that bothers me more than I want to admit. The journals are nice, and helpful, but not the same as actually having the real memories.

  “I feel a lot healthier and stronger—mentally and physically—with the changes I’ve made. I feel comfortable in my own body now. I think it was a step I had to take.”