“There’s no way that can be true. You have to know that.”

He shakes his head and angrily tosses the napkin onto the table. “It is. I’m your husband. I’m supposed to protect you. From anything and everything. I should’ve moved faster. I should’ve been strong enough to pull you up.” Leaning his elbows on his legs, he stares down at the ground, hiding his face behind the curtain of his hair.

“Asher…” I touch his cheek and force him to look at me. “You’re human. I can’t remember that day, but it sounds like it was a horrible accident with no time at all to react.”

His dark-brown eyes bore into mine, the golden flecks extinguished, melted into the ebony iris. The sadness and turmoil brewing in his expression speak for his silence.

Ember is the only one who can fix this for him and take it all away. Since she’s not exactly here, I’m going to do it for her. I owe it to him, and to her, and to whoever I am, to try to make this right. This kind of guilt can’t be left lingering between us.

“You have to let that go, Asher. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Em…” He covers my hand with his, pressing it against his cheek.

“I mean it. I don’t blame you in any way. I know you’d never let anything happen to me.”

The darkness of despair in his eyes shifts to a soft longing, and he cups the side of my neck with his large palm, gently pulling me to him.

Our lips meet in a soft, uncertain way. Unexpected but not uninvited. I slide my hand to his shoulder, beneath his thick, wavy hair, resisting the sudden desire to wind my fingers into the softness of it. Breathing softly, he moves his lips to my cheek, then slowly to the spot under my ear, his cheek pressed against mine. It’s gentle and intimate in a way that makes me dizzy and utterly still.

My breath comes out in a whispery shudder when he tightens his hand against my neck and drags his lips back to mine. My fingers clench into him in response, nails pressing into the fabric of his shirt. His shoulder is like a rock under my hand. Tilting his head, he kisses me fervently, deeper, as if he’s desperate to meld us together.

I feel it too, a sudden surge of too much space, too much air between us. When his tongue slips across my lips, warm, wet, and lemony from his iced tea, my breath catches in my throat with a mew.

Heart thudding… It’s no surprise when fight or flight thoughts sprout up and take over my mind.

Worst. Timing. Ever.

Is it desire or fear causing my heart to beat like the wings of a trapped bird?

Is this kiss ours? Mine and his?

Or is it theirs? Hers and his?

Shoving the doubts away, I open my mouth to him, and our tongues kiss and caress. A low moan hums from his throat, and I’m breathless for more of him, more of the heated euphoria tingling down my spine and to my thighs.

Kissing Asher Valentine feels righter than anything I’ve ever felt.

As if reading my mind, he clutches the back of my neck, and his other hand lands on my waist, pulling me closer. His mouth completely owns mine, his tongue swooping in with another pent-up growl.

Something hard clashes against my teeth, and I pull back in surprise.

“Sorry.” He grins. “Tongue ring.”

“What?” I shake my head to clear the swoony haze.

I must look utterly confused because he sticks his tongue out to show me a metal bar through his tongue.

I’m taken aback by how scary it looks and confused as to how it isn’t painful. What if it falls out while we’re kissing?

“Can you take that out?” I ask.

He shakes his head.

“It’s permanent?”

“No, I can take it out, but I’ve had it for so long, my mouth feels all screwed up without it. I can’t talk right, or sing. Or kiss…”

“I’m not sure if I like it or not.” I quirk my eyebrow up.

“You actually bought it for me. Your name’s engraved on it.”

What kind of woman buys a tongue bar for her husband?

He inches closer, and I put my hand on the middle of his hard chest.

His smile fades. “What’s wrong?”

I’m not sure. So many feelings are swirling around inside me.

I blink back the sting of tears in my eyes. “Nothing. I think I’m just tired. I should probably go back to my room.”

“Please…don’t go. It’s still early, and I like sitting out here being close to you.”

“With me? Are you sure?” There they are, the words I didn’t want to say. I hate when I do that.

Lines appear across his forehead like a roadmap. “Of course with you.”

Chewing my lip, I wonder if I needed more time in the hospital where I was shielded from the real world. Maybe I’m just not ready to try to live a normal life. Maybe my brain is a lot more screwed up than the doctors realized.