I flush with warmth when he shoves his shorts off and climbs into the bed with black boxers on. His legs are just as muscular and inked up as the rest of him.

I decide to do the same, sliding my shorts off and crawling in next to him wearing my thin, purple T-shirt and panties.

He pulls the fluffy down comforter up over us, and we simultaneously turn toward each other. The sheets are cool and incredibly soft against my skin. His delicious scent mixed with lavender fills the air. I’m gently pulled against his chest, his big arms encircling me. The motion is fluid and familiar.

Tilting my head up, our lips meet just as naturally. His hand slowly moves down to my ass, then even slower down to the back of my thigh to lift my leg up over his, pressing our lower bodies together. I gasp with the surprise of feeling him long and hard against me, but I let myself fit against him. Groaning against my lips, he kisses me deeper, holding me against his powerful body, igniting thousands of warm, scintillating tingles through my veins.

We gradually kiss slower, softer, gentler, until we’re barely kissing at all, our lips lingering, dreamily, mere millimeters apart, touching briefly every few moments. His hand—huge and warm—massages slow, gentle circles over my back in tune with his kisses, lulling me into a place of contentment I’ve never felt.

But I know that’s not true. As I drift off to sleep, I know there’s no doubt I’ve felt this way with him thousands of times before.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Timing can be the friggin’ worst sometimes.

I don’t want to get out of bed. Ever.

I waited an eternity to wake up to my wife all snuggled up in my arms in our bed, in our room, in our house.

Something so damn normal, yet I will never take for granted again.

For the first time in I don’t know how long, I have important plans today that can’t be changed.

Just a few more minutes…

Turning, I gently roll Ember over onto her back and gaze down at her. It still scares the hell out of me to see her sleeping. My gut always twists in fear that she’s slipped away again.

I brush her hair from her face. An excuse to touch her and confirm she’s real and not a dream. Her eyelids twitch, then open like little window blinds. I watch them morph from wide with confusion to soft with recognition.

“Hey you,” I say softly.

“Hey.”

Her shy smile tempts me to kiss her everywhere. Her lips, her neck, her breasts, her thigh that was curved around me last night.

Does my dick even work anymore? I don’t think I’d last thirty seconds if we made love right now.

I clear my throat to refocus myself. “How’d you sleep?”

“Better than I have in a while.”

“I did too.”

My phone buzzes on the nightstand, and I reach over to see a text message I wasn’t expecting this morning lit up on the screen.

Shit.

“I gotta go,” I say reluctantly. “I wish I could stay here with you, but I have a meeting I can’t miss.”

“Oh.” Yawning, she sits up. “That’s okay.”

“You don’t have to get up. You can sleep some more.”

“I have to work my arms today. I don’t like being in here without you.”

“It’s your room too. You don’t have to leave. You could even…I dunno…” I raise my eyebrow. “Maybe move your stuff in here while I’m gone.”

Her chest rises with a sigh, and her gaze slides over toward the door. “I’m not sure I’m ready for that yet. I just need to feel right about it.”

Hope crashes and burns into a ball of fire in the pit of my stomach.

“Didn’t last night feel right?”

She touches a lock of my hair hanging over my shoulder, twiddling it absently between her fingers.

“Your hair is so shiny and soft. It bothered me at first—your hair. Actually, it kinda scared me. You looked so wild.”

Closing my eyes, I lose myself in the light touch of her fingers in my hair, the angelic softness of her voice.

“But now I like it. It fits you. Wild and soft.” Her lips brush across my shoulder. Quick and gentle. So gentle that maybe I imagined it. But it’s enough to make my cock throb for more of her. “I’m trying, Asher. To feel right.”

She looks a little bit wistful and a lot of beautiful when I turn to her. “Me too,” I reply. “We’ll get there.”

We always meet in the park on a typical workday because there’s usually less people, which means less chance of someone recognizing me. Don’t get me wrong—I love all my fans, but I’m not keen on people getting all excited about seeing me. Especially the ones who want to pet my tats or feel my hair. In general, the attention makes me feel strange and undeserving.