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I love this woman. Truly and completely love her with every fiber of my being. I’d do anything for her, including stand in front of cameras and extoll her praises, or go back in front of those cameras and proclaim to the world that she’s mine.
I’d turn my back on my father’s company. Let Logan have it—I doubt it ever would have been mine no matter what I accomplished. I’m done seeking approval where it’ll never exist.
This, here, with Penelope—this is what matters.
She grips the back of the wicker furniture, pressing her hips into mine. “You always make me want you in the naughtiest places,” she growls in my ear. “Anyone could walk out here.”
Slipping my hand under her dress, I feel the soft lace of her panties. My cock throbs when I feel the dampness soaking through, and I let out a low moan. “Let them watch.”
She shivers at my touch, rolling her body against my hand, demanding more. I tug her panties aside and slide my fingers through her honey, unable to hold back the groan that rumbles through my chest. I can’t get enough of touching her. She’s soft and warm and wet—for me. All for me. All mine.
“Penelope.” I sigh, kissing her shoulder.
“Shh.” She nibbles my ear, her hands curling into my shirt as her hips keep rocking over my hand. When I press my thumb against her bud, the way she shivers makes me want to claim her right here, like this.
But I lean back against the seat, driving my fingers inside her as I twirl my thumb around her clit. I watch her eyes close, lashes fanned out over her high cheekbones, and I take in every angle of her face. Her lips drop open, head bowed, as if she can’t believe how good her body feels when I touch her.
“Asher,” she whispers, and my name sounds like magic on her lips.
The wicker loveseat creaks as she rides my hand, and I urge her on with dirty whispers. I want her orgasm on my hands. I want the stain of her wetness on my crotch.
With one hand inside her, I slide my palm over her outer thigh and feel the soft curve of her ass. My fingers slide down the cleft of her ass and feel the tight pucker behind, circling it with slow, steady movements. The cries that fall from her lips are my reward. My sustenance. Everything I’ll ever need.
Heat winds through my core as I watch Penelope come apart in my arms, quivering over my hands as she wrinkles my shirt in her fists. She gasps, twitching, her core clenching around my fingers in a way that makes my whole body ache for her.
The words are right there, on the tip of my tongue. I love you. They’d be so easy to say, just three little words, but they don’t come. The lump in my throat grows and all I can manage to do is kiss the corner of her lip as I slide her panties back in place.
“Asher,” she whispers again, boneless on top of me. I slide my arms around her waist and hold her close, knowing she holds my whole heart in the palm of her hand.
19
Penelope
There’s nothing cold about me when I’m with Asher. Everything is warm and tingly. Heat flows through my veins like never before, and I realize just how much I’ve been missing.
One week turns into two. We spend our days hiking and traipsing through the countryside, taking a trip up to the Arctic Ocean to go fishing, even though Asher pretends to hate it. It’s the first real break I’ve had in years. I sleep better than ever before, but still somehow have nagging tiredness. I don’t feel quite…right. Not sick, exactly, just…odd.
The nagging nausea and lack of appetite that started in Stirling seem to get worse. I thought I was just nervous about being apart from Asher. But he’s here and my stomach is still tied up in knots. I’m a schoolgirl with a crush.
During our second week at the Summer Palace, when I have to take a break in the woods for my fourth pee break, clutching my stomach as I come out from a small copse of trees, Asher tilts his head. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”
“I think so,” I say, putting a hand to my chest. “Maybe it was those sandwiches we had. Having a bit of heartburn.”
“Let’s head back. There’s a doctor at the palace, right?”
I shrug. “I’ll be fine.”
“Pen.” Asher’s face is deathly serious, his brows knitted together. The fact that he cares about my well-being this much makes everything inside me flush. He walks toward me, putting his hands on my thighs and making slow circles with his thumbs. “Just get checked out and rest. I don’t like you feeling like this.”
His worried expression makes my heart do a funny kind of flip. He really cares, even if it’s just a bit of heartburn. If only just to pacify him—and maybe to enjoy the warm flush of having him take care of me—I agree to head back toward the castle. We walk back down the side of the mountain, and all my limbs feel heavy. I lean against Asher, and he hooks his arm around my shoulders.
I haven’t had someone to lean on in years. Literally or figuratively. Over the past few months, Asher’s been there for me at every turn, and I’m not sure how I’ll cope if he ever goes away. He’s supported me in public, making sure no one says anything bad about me in his presence. And in private? Well, sometimes it feels like he’s the only person who sees me as Penelope, and not as a vague shadow with a crown sitting on her head.
When we make it to the palace, deep frown lines are cut into Asher’s forehead. He glances at me, then asks one of the castle staff to fetch the doctor.
“I’m fine, Ash. Really.”
“You’re not. You look pale and almost green. You’ve been peeing nonstop and I saw the way you looked at that coleslaw at lunch.”
