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Without giving myself time to doubt myself I spin and bring my hands to his face. I clutch onto him tightly, lean forward, and kiss him with all the passion I’ve been holding back. He snarls through the kiss and places his hand against my back, bringing me closer to him, and for a while, everything disappears.
Thoughts of the future, doubts, second-guessing, and pain…
None of it exists as our tongues clash together. Tingles dance all around my mouth, traveling through my body like hot lightning as they grip my chest and sizzle in my belly. My sex gives a tight pulse, the wetness from my core seeping into my panties, making it difficult to focus on anything else.
My body wants to give in to the desire so freaking bad, but Asher steps back. From the look in his eyes, it takes him a herculean amount of effort to step away from me.
“If we keep doing that,” he growls, “I’m going to throw you down on these rose petals and turn into a beast, and make every single inch of you sing with pleasure.”
I grip onto his chest, feeling suddenly brave, daring, unlike I’ve ever felt in my entire life before.
He brings out so many different parts of me, pieces of courage I never dreamed I had.
“Who says I don’t want that, huh?”
He lays his hand atop mine, adding to the pressure.
My fingernails dig into his shirt and bend against his chest. He’s so solid, so firm, every inch of his muscled flesh emanating protectiveness.
“But maybe not here.”
I let my hand drop when a hazy look comes into his eyes, typically difficult to read, like maybe he’s judging me for being so forward.
But no, I don’t think it’s that. But then what is it?
For what feels like the millionth time, I wish I could peer into his mind and read his thoughts.
He waves a hand down the rose-petal path. “Shall we?”
We hold hands as we walk down the path together, Asher gripping my hand tightly. It’s like he never wants to let go.
I almost tell him right now… as we walk through the threshold into the wide-open hall, history exhibits watching us from every direction, I almost tell him I want him forever, I want his babies, I want everything he can give me.
A table sits in the middle of a land of rose petals, and more candles glimmer everywhere, catching a Viking shield and the corner of another display.
“I’ve arranged to have our food made at a restaurant around the corner. They make a wide variety of dishes, so hopefully, they’ll have something you like. I thought it’d be better than choosing a specific kind of cuisine.”
“That sounds absolutely amazing,” I tell him. “Really, really great. You’ve thought of everything.”
He pulls my chair out, smirking. “I tried to. You deserve the best.”
“You’re the best boyfriend in the world.”
He chuckles as he takes his seat. “You’re never going to get tired of saying that, are you?”
“Nope.”
I smile because I can imagine a time when I will trade it for something else… when I find the words fiancé and husband more fitting.
“What would you like to drink?” He gestures at the menus. “All I have to do is text the restaurant, and they’ll bring anything we want.”
I glance down at the menu. Asher was right about there being a wide variety of options. My heart gives a flutter when I think about him planning this evening, taking time to ensure every detail is perfect.
“I’ll just take an orange soda, I think. But don’t let me stop you from having a drink.”
“I’ll take a soda too. I’m not much of a drinker.”
“No?”
He smirks at my speculative tone. “You’re twenty-one, old enough to drink. I could ask you why you don’t want one too.”
“You could.” I giggle as I reach across the table and place my hand on his. “But I asked first.”
“So those are the rules, huh?”
“Yep.”
He sits back, taking out his phone and firing off a quick text. Returning it to his inside jacket pocket, he runs a hand through his steel-colored hair. He has a new intensity in his eyes now.
“It’s not a big deal…”
He trails off with a chuckle when he realizes he’s used the exact phrase I did when I first told him about my parents’ deaths. He shakes his head with a grin, and I laugh with him.
“My parents were alcoholics,” he says. “Like I said, it’s not a… it wasn’t the end of the world. They were never abusive or anything like that. But I saw the effects alcohol could have on people. Don’t get me wrong. I drink sometimes. I’ll have a few beers here and there. But I’ve never been a full-on drinker, if that makes sense.”
“Were you close with your parents, then?” I ask. “Did it put a rift between you?”
