That’s the only place I want to be.

We fall into another long, slow, breathy kiss. I move my hands down his spine, tugging the fabric of his thin, white T-shirt up. It’s a hint he takes, sitting up to quickly pull his shirt off. Way back in the beginning, I thought the cinch I felt in my chest and stomach every time I saw him shirtless—all muscles and dark art—was fear or distaste, but I soon learned those feelings were anything but.

I’ve been wanting him—really wanting him—ever since that night two weeks ago when we almost made love. We’ve fooled around a few times since then, but we never go too far. We agreed to take things slowly until I see my doctor and get the go-ahead that everything is okay with me physically down there. Asher’s kept to his side of that and always stops himself. Guides us back to kissing and snuggling, which I love. But I want all of him, in every way. I’m afraid of what this missing piece, this little hole, will do to our marriage. I want to make sure he’s happy in every way.

My little friend, the journal, has told me Asher likes to be kissed all over. Likes his hair tugged. Likes to be scratched. Likes to get a little wild.

I break away from his kiss, and he hovers above me, an arm on either side of me, breathing heavily. Squeezing his shoulders, I pull him down and kiss the center of his chest. His heart beats against my lips, and I want to stay there forever, breathing his cologne, kissing his heart. Languidly, I drag my mouth away, skimming across the metal ring through his nipple.

Goose bumps rise on his skin when I scoot my body down beneath him, licking and kissing my way down the trail of soft, dark hair to his stomach. Cradling the back of my head in his hand, he holds me to him as I lightly rake my nails down either side of his taut rib cage. The faint moans that rumble in his throat make my thighs ache to be wrapped tightly around him.

The waistband of his jeans is soft and frayed when I hook my fingers around the fabric and undo the button, then slowly drag his zipper down. The soft growl he lets out when I wrap my fingers around his rock-hard cock makes my heart flutter wildly. My breath catches at the length and width of him, the searing hotness of him throbbing against my palm. I stroke him slowly, pushing his jeans and boxers farther down.

“Em…” he groans, pulling me up and capturing my lips with his. My hair catches on one of his metal biker rings as he moves his hand toward the base of my skull.

Reaching up, I grab his hand, turning my head to the side.

He quickly pulls his head back. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I whisper. “My head—”

“Your head?” His eyes widen, and he moves back even farther, pulling his hand back, unknowingly ripping a few strands of my hair out with it.

“Ow—”

“What happened?” His eyes are suddenly wild, darting around my face, insane with worry. “Does your head hurt?”

“Ash, my hair got stuck in your ring.” I grab his hand and show him the long strands of hair still wrapped around the ring. “See? That’s all.”

He stares at his hand, which is now shaking, as if he’s never seen it before. His chest heaves in and out with erratic breaths.

Worried at his reaction, I gently close my hand around his. “It’s okay,” I say softly. “It just stung for a few seconds. It’s not your fault.”

“It is.” His voice is thick with remorse. “I shouldn’t be doing that…touching your head.” He yanks the ring off and shoves it into his front pocket.

“I’m fine.” I smile up at him. “Really.”

“Maybe you should sit up. Let me look at your head.”

I let out a little laugh. “Don’t be silly. I’m fine.”

His eyes fixate on me, dazed. Concerned, I wave my hand in front of his face, and he barely blinks. “Asher? Are you okay?”

He looks so far away, so unfocused, as if he’s slipped into another place. My pulse quickens with worry. “Should I go get Sarah? You’re scaring me.”

Just as I’m about to scramble from beneath him and get Sarah, he finally snaps out of it, and his eyes return to their usual deep, thoughtful state.

“No, I’m sorry, baby. I was just worried about you.” He flashes me his gorgeous smile, but I catch the uncertainty in it.

I breathe out a sigh of relief that I really don’t feel. “I’m okay. Just a few missing hairs.”

Smiling, I reach for him, eager to get back to where we were, but he grabs my hands, stopping me before I even touch him.