Chapter 202

Asher

I wasn’t ready to give voice to my feelings.

Over the years, I’ve had many sexual partners and several dates, but never anyone that I actually loved. Whenever things got too serious, I always backed away.

It wasn’t that I was against loving anyone. I just never found one who made me want to try.

I hated misleading the girls I had been with. Since the spark was never there, I always told them so. Some insisted on trying anyway, and we would for a date or two, before it inevitably fizzled out. Others were more open to a friends with benefits situation.

None of them held a candle to Cynthia.

I had tried to hold back my feelings. After all, Cynthia was my best friend’s sister. And she was trouble. Pregnant by one of most notorious playboys on campus, she should have dropped out of school months ago, but she was impossibly stubborn.

She never gave up.

I should have maintained distance and only protected her from afar. But something about her pulled me in right from the start.

Maybe it was her beauty, or the way she challenged me. I wasn’t sure.

Still, I fought against her gravity for so long. But I didn’t want to fight anymore.

I didn’t know how to do relationships. I didn’t even know where to begin. And I’d always struggled explaining my feelings.

But with her, I wanted to try.

Cynthia, with her hand on my chest, looked at me with her large brown eyes, and in them, reflected every bit of love I was feeling for her.

I wasn’t alone with these feelings.

Slowly, giving her time to pull away if she wished, I lifted my hands and cradled her face. I inched closer to her. She held her breath.

Then I leaned in and kissed her.

Her lips were soft and pliant. Easily, I coaxed them open and licked into her mouth.

Her hand on my chest turned claw-like, gripping my shirt and tugging me closer. She moaned into my mouth and I smiled against her lips.

“Asher…”

She said my name so sweetly.

I wished I could tell her how I felt with words, but I was lacking. I could speak much better with my body.

With my hands on her hips, I guided her backwards toward the bed.

My mouth found hers again, as I moved my touch around her body. I grabbed the back of her shirt and tugged it out from where it had been tucked into her jeans. I pulled it up and up.

She grumbled unhappily as we were forced to split to remove the offending article of clothing. The moment it was gone, we returned to each other, lips first.

My hands when to her pants. I quickly undid the clasp and pulled down the zipper. I pushed the jeans down her hips and she did a sexy little shimmy, bringing the jeans down her hips.

As she stood there in her panties and bra, I had to step back to look at her. God, she was so beautiful. I could have looked at her all day, were it not for my overwhelming desire to touch.

My fingers twitched, eager to feel the softness of her breasts. She must have noticed, because in the next instant, she reached behind her and unclasped her bra. As it slipped away, exposing her, I nearly pounced.

She held me back with one lifted hand. “This seems uneven.” She motioned toward my clothes.

I had never disrobed faster in my life than I did at that moment. I stripped down to my boxers in a whirlwind, which made her laugh.

I loved her so much.

This was how sex was supposed to be. Hot and desperate, sure, but also safe and happy and filled with love.

Her laughter slowed as her gaze trailed down the length of my body. I flexed my muscles, preening under her attention. Her cheeks flushed; she liked what she saw.

When her gaze returned to mine, the fire of want blazed in her eyes. I took that as my cue and stepped forward. I slipped one hand around her waist, pulling her close to me. With the other, I palmed at her bare breast.

She gasped. Her mouth sought mine again and I eagerly returned her kiss.

Gently, holding her weight, I lowered her down onto the bed.

I hadn’t forgotten her condition. She wasn’t to exert herself. Any sex we had, needed to be gentle.

Someday, I’d consensually ravage her and have her screaming my name. But for now, I was more than content with this. Feeling and being felt.

Especially when I could put my mouth on her.

I licked at her breast, sucking her nipple into my mouth. She arched her back up off the bed, as if wanting me closer, as if needing more. Her fingers carded through my hair.

I hummed against her and she moaned my name.

Keeping my mouth occupied with her chest, I slipped one hand down into her panties. I sought out her clit with my calloused fingers.

“Asher!”

When we had first learned that Cynthia couldn’t overexert herself, she had been upset. She’d said that she wanted to give as good as she got.

She had no idea what seeing her like this did to me. Every writhe, every moan, every grip in my hair or on the blankets, had me grinding my rock hard dick into the mattress.

She’d thought she wouldn’t be able to please me, but she did, simply by existing. By accepting the love I had for her. By letting me lavish her body with my hands and mouth.

Every mark. Every whimper. Every cry of my name.

“Oh, Asher. Please.”

I turned my hips into her thigh, so she could feel my hardness. I couldn’t vocalize it, but she had to know what she was doing to me, just from wanting me.

I thrusted against the meat of her thigh. She gasped, feeling my full desire, swelled only for her.

I could come like this. And I would.

But not until she came first.

Much, much later, as we held each other in our afterglow, I watched her slowly doze into a peaceful slumber. Sleep didn’t come easy for her lately, even with my closeness.

Maybe this extra stimulation would be needed every night to have her reach the level of bone-tired contentment needed to sleep. I had no objections.

Softly, I brushed from stray hairs away from her face. I could never get over just how gorgeous she was. I felt like I could look at her forever and never get my fill.

Forever. I wondered if that was something Cynthia would like too.

I already saw her and her baby as my family.

“You’re staring,” Cynthia said, voice lazy slow. A smile curled her kiss-red lips.

I could resist kissing them again, soft and sweet. “I am.”

She looked up at me through her lashes. I kissed her again.

She hummed against my lips. “I like it when you do that.”

“Good. Because I plan on doing a lot of it.”

“You do…?”

I couldn’t believe the walls she still maintained. I had kissed her, made love to her, given her my heart, and still she doubted my intentions? Hadn’t I yet proved myself a worthy mate?

“I want a future with you,” I said.

Her eyes went wide. She snapped upright, suddenly sitting. “You do?”

Had I said something wrong? “Yes.”

“But… But I’m pregnant…”

I furrowed my brow. What was she talking about? “I know that…?”

“It’s another man’s baby.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s Joseph’s.” She curled her arms around her waist.

And suddenly I understood. She was so strong. She would stand up to the whole world to protect her baby. But, like me, she struggled to be vulnerable.

Vulnerability so often meant hurt.

And I had already hurt her once before.

She needed a sign of my dedication to her and the baby as my family. Something to prove my devotion.

“Cynthia,” I said.

She looked at me. Beneath the fear in her eyes, I saw the spark of hope. She wanted to trust me.

I would give her further reason to.

“Let me be the baby’s godfather.”