Chapter 22

Elle

The door to the master bedroom swings open with a silent command from Asher's confident nudge and we step into. The hum of the yacht's engine vibrates through the soles of my feet. I can't remember the last time I was this aware of every breath, every beat of my heart.

"Elle," Asher whispers, green eyes darkening like the depths of the sea at midnight. Closing the space between us with a stride that speaks volumes, he is the embodiment of every fantasy I've dared to entertain on lonely nights.

His hands, strong and sure, find my waist, pulling me closer until I can feel the heat radiating from his body. There's no escaping now—not that I want to.

Our lips meet, and it's like igniting a fire with a single spark—sudden, fierce, consuming.

It's a kiss that speaks of love and hope. A mingling of tongues that dance together in perfect understanding. I lose myself in the all-consuming rhythm.

"I need you," he breathes out, breaking the kiss just enough to gaze into my eyes.

“Yes, please,” I beg.

The yacht rocks gently beneath us, a silent witness to the hunger that hums in the air between Asher and me. His fingers find the top button of my blouse.

One by one, the buttons give way, his fingertips grazing my skin with each one of his undoing. The fabric parts, and cool air kisses the exposed flesh, raising goosebumps along my arms and chest. But it's the warmth in Asher's green gaze that sends a wetness and ache down to my center.

"Your turn," I say, voice barely above a hum as I reach for him.

My hands are less practiced, more urgent as they fumble with the buttons on his shirt. I skim the hard planes of his chest, feel the thrumming heartbeat beneath my palms. He's solid, real, and every inch of him speaks of strength and protection.

"Elle," he says as he helps guide my trembling fingers.

"Sorry, I..." The words trail off as I focus on the task.

"Don't be." His chuckle is low, rich with amusement. "I like watching you unravel me."

Finally, his shirt falls open. My breath catches as I trace the lines of his muscles, and they flex under my touch.

"Beautiful," I breathe out, and it's not just his body that I'm calling beautiful. It’s all of him, the trust, the collision of our mutual loneliness from when we were kids that somehow feels less sharp in this shared space.

"You are too, sweetheart," he counters, pulling me closer until there's no room left between us, but steps back with hunger in his eyes.

With a flick of my wrist, the last barrier of fabric slips from my body and joins Asher's on the carpeted floor. His gaze devours me whole. I feel adored and worshiped.

"Come here," he commands, voice barely above the whisper of the ocean outside the porthole.

He guides me toward the bed, the centerpiece of this master room. The sheets are cool against my heated skin, but it’s his presence that warms me. His eyes never leave mine.

His lips find just the right spot on my neck, and it's like he's charting a map of all the places I ache for him. I tilt my head back, granting him access to every hidden corner, every secret I’ve ever guarded. I reach for him, fingers tangling in his hair.

"You like that, gypsy girl?" he breathes out against my skin, his hands roaming with tenderness.

My breath hitches, a silent plea as Asher's lips drift lower, his warm breath teasing over my skin before he claims my breasts. His tongue skates across the surface, drawing patterns that send sparks throughout my body.

"Elle," he groans, voice vibrating as a plea of his own.

A soft moan escapes me as his mouth continues its tantalizing dance, marking me with a hunger that mirrors my own.

Asher's fingers roam, trailing fire along my abdomen, dipping lower, teasing at the edge of where I need him most. He hesitates, his eyes locking onto mine as two fingers slip into my channel.

His touch is gentle at first, coating his digits with my essence, but it grows bolder, more insistent. His fingers dance and delve, igniting a blaze that threatens to consume us. It’s as if he's reaching into the very depths of my soul.

"Please," I plead, the word a lifeline tossed into the whirlpool of sensation.

"Anything for you," he replies, his touch firm now.

The heat in Asher's gaze could melt the very steel of the yacht as his mouth meets mine once more. My back naturally arches. A moan slips through my parted lips as he brings me to climax from his fingers alone.

"Elle." My name from his lips is a plea of his own.

"More," is all I can manage to reply, lost in the sensations flooding my body.

He gives me exactly what I ask for and enters me. Each thrust is a resurrection to my once pained soul.

"Stay with me," I breathe out, a prayer wrapped in the throes of passion.

"Always," he assures me.

As our movements synchronize, there's a sense of coming home, not to a place, but to a person—a rare feeling of belonging that I've only ever glimpsed in dreams. Asher, with each purposeful motion, seems to be saying, 'Here is where you're meant to be.'

And I believe him.

Here, with Asher, I find a sanctuary not even my eclectic tiny home could offer—a haven of two hearts learning to beat as one.

Our moans of ecstasy crescendo, a loud song that resonates through the yacht's master suite.

"Elle," Asher grunts, his voice bold with pleasure. His arms, powerful and loving, pull me impossibly closer, as if he could merge our bodies into one.

"Yes, Asher..." My reply is half-lost in a gasp as the yacht rocks gently beneath us. The room spins, but it's not the motion of the boat—it's us, spiraling together toward a precipice we're eager to tumble over.

With each thrust, my body wants to release the coiled tension in my core.

"Elle, I'm—" His words fracture as the surge of ecstasy crashes through both our bodies at the same time. I cling to him, nails digging into the broad of his back.

I moan, whisper, shout—all at once as my climax washes over me, leaving me trembling. Asher's name becomes my mantra, my lifeline, as he holds me tight, our bodies shaking.

There is no past, no future—only the electricity pulsing through us, binding us together. We've found an oasis in each other.

As the last shivers of pleasure fade, I'm left breathless, my ear pressed against Asher's chest. I listen to the rapid beat of his heart, a rhythm that slowly calms to match my own.

He gently kisses my temple, his breath warm against my hair.

I don’t say anything, not wanting to break the spell. For now, words are unnecessary.

Our limbs are a tangled mess as we lie in each other's embrace. The yacht rocks gently, and I find my breath syncing with Asher's—a soft exhale against the nape of my neck, his chest rising and falling against my back. It's a dance of inhalations and exhalations.

"Elle," his voice is barely audible, a rumble that vibrates through me. I turn within the cocoon of his arms to face him. His gaze holds mine.

"Hey," I reply, my thumb brushing over the stubble on his chiseled jaw.

We're two pieces of a complicated puzzle that just happen to fit perfectly together.

I trail my fingers down his muscular chest, each scar and contour a story I want to learn. His hand cups my face, his thumb caressing my cheek.

"Elle," he says again, and there's a weight to it, a promise wrapped in my name. "You've unlocked something in me I didn't even know was chained."

I lean in, capturing his lips with mine. The kiss is sweet and unhurried.

Pulling back, I rest my forehead against his, our gazes locked. "Asher," I whisper, "with you, I feel seen—not for what I could be or should be, but for who I am." It's a truth that scares me, but with him, I’m no longer afraid.

"You’re," he starts, his voice cracking with emotion, " my sure shot—the play I’d make time and again." There's a playful spark in his eyes that matches the curve of his lips. I see the boy who loved hockey with all his heart, now a man unafraid to love with the same amount of passion.

We are two souls, once adrift, now anchored in each other's arms.

The rhythm of Asher's heartbeat under my ear becomes the world's most soothing sound. With every rise and fall of his chest, I sink deeper into a state of bliss.

His fingers, calloused from gripping hockey sticks and battle-worn pucks, now circles on my back. There's a tenderness to his touch that whispers promises of forever without saying a word. It's a language our bodies have learned with ease—a dialogue of flesh and soul.

"I love you," I sigh against his skin, inhaling the mingling scents of salt air and his cologne, a fragrance that has become my sanctuary. It's not just a request for tonight but for all the tomorrows that might come with their own set of storms.

"I love you too, my gypsy girl," he replies, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through me. His arm tightens around my waist.

I let out a sigh of contentment as my eyelids grow heavy.

"Goodnight, Elle," he whispers, his breath warm against my neck.

"Goodnight, Asher," I breathe out, closing my eyes and allowing the night to take me.