“I’m looking at what’s mine.”
“You sure about that?”
“Absolutely sure.” He poured confidence into his voice.
“Then why am I alone?”
“Letting you sleep, malen’kiy smerch . If I’m with you, I’m in you.”
Her soft laughter was muffled by the sheets, but the sound moved through him in spite of that. The notes were melodious and tugged at his heart. Deeper. Settled in him. He pulled his shirt from his body and tossed it aside, looking down at the wide expanse of satin skin. The line of her back was beautiful, the curve of her butt, enticing. Her legs, shapely. Just looking at her caused that burn to start.
A slow burn was something for him to savor. With a leopard’s heat involved, his need of her was brutal. Harsh. This was different. Little flames licked at his skin. His blood turned thick and hot, but moved slowly through his body to settle in his cock so that the ache became familiar and yet new at the same time.
He kicked his jeans aside and sank down onto the bed beside her. She didn’t move, not even to give him room. He drew a line up her side, from the curve of her hip, over her ribs to the enticing swell of her breast.
“I missed you.” She made it a confession. “I woke up and didn’t like being without you.”
He rubbed the cheeks of her bottom. “I don’t want you waking up without me.”
“Put your hand between my legs. Feel what you do to me.”
He did as she said. She was hot and slick.
“That’s me waiting for you. She’s still asleep. No leopard, Timur. Just me.”
His heart contracted. “Turn over, baby.”
She didn’t move. “Is it always going to be like this? Me waking up craving you?”
“I hope so. I want you to always want me. I know it’s going to be that way with me. I think about you every minute I’m away from you. Even when I shouldn’t be.”
“Was it bad?”
“I shouldn’t tell you. I should keep you as far from my business as possible.”
She did turn over, drawing her knees up, but keeping her legs spread wide. Her eyes were on his face, seeing too much. Seeing into him. “No, you shouldn’t keep your business from me. I can feel how heavy a burden it is and I want to make it better. I don’t need or want details. But you can tell me if it was bad. There can’t be harm in that.”
“Then, yes, it was bad,” he conceded.
“I can give you a massage. It can be a sensual one,” she offered. “But a massage might help. We can find ways that I can help you.” She wrapped her fingers slowly around his cock, her thumb sliding over the large crown. “I want to do that for you.”
“I need the taste of you in my mouth, Ashe. I want to taste every inch of you.” He had a bad taste, a coppery one, that wouldn’t disappear, as if he’d somehow gotten blood inside him and it wouldn’t come out. He knew only Ashe with her sweet, giving nature could remove it.
He framed her face with both hands and rubbed his lips over her forehead. Her breath was warm on his wrists as he kissed her eyelids and then the tip of her nose. He rubbed his nose along hers, savoring the feel of her. The sweetness of her. The way she gave him every single thing he asked for without reservation. His mouth took hers.
That was her gift. She gave herself to him. All of her. Every inch, not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. She trusted him with her when he didn’t deserve that enormous gift. He kissed her over and over, losing himself in the hot haven of her mouth. Kissing Ashe was a paradise in itself. Hot. Wet. Fiery. Her taste was exquisite. Perfection. He chased after it, needing more. Greedy for more. She gave it to him.
He kissed his way from her mouth to her throat, using his tongue to take the taste of her skin into his mouth. She was soft and warm and tasted like heaven. He took his time, kissing her along her collarbone, taking the shape of her into his mouth, on his lips, into his mind where he mapped that image, etched it there for eternity into his brain.
He kissed his way to the curves of her breasts. His tongue slid over them, tracing them so he could commit that feeling to his brain. His teeth scraped gently, as if he could take part of her into his bloodstream and keep her there.
“Timur.” Just his name, but need was there. Hunger. Her body moved, hips undulating, trying to get him to cover her.
“Let me,” he whispered. “Let me have this.”
Her eyes moved over his face. She saw every line etched deep there. She saw whatever it was she needed from him to let her know this was important to him. Not just important—it was as essential as breathing air. She nodded, and pressed her hips to the mattress.