The Vixen and the Vet (23 page)

“Do you know that I love you?” he asked.

She nodded, reaching for him, cupping his face in her hand.

“This isn’t the sort of love that ends,” he said softly. “It’s forever. It doesn’t matter if you go to Phoenix and I stay here for a while. We’ll find each other again. Do you know that, Savannah Carmichael?”

She nodded again, sadly, with tears still brimming in her chestnut eyes.

“And I’ll tell you something else. I’m not worried that you’ll find someone else, because there isn’t anyone else on the face of the earth who could ever love you as much as I do. It’s impossible because no man has ever loved a woman as much as I love you. And I’m not worried about me finding someone else, because you brought me back from the dead and gave me a second chance at life. You’re my miracle, Savannah, and I will
always
belong to you.”

She nodded a third time, capturing his upper lip between hers and sucking on it lovingly, lazily, rubbing her breasts against his chest, as her hands cradled his face. He sensed that she had touched him to reassure him, but when she leaned away, her eyes turned luminous and dark, and his body responded to her as it always did, as it always would, hardening like stone at her command. He wanted to forget that they were leaving each other, forget that they would ever live a day apart. He wanted to get lost in her body and watch her get lost in his.

“When do you need to come back here?” she asked, her breathing quickening as she stared at him.

“A little more than a week,” he said, every cell in his body begging him to take her, to taste her, to bury himself inside her until nothing existed but this moment, while they were still together. “My first procedure’s on the sixth.”

They were talking about something serious, something sad, and yet his heart pounded with love for her, his body straining with longing, desperate to feel the completeness he felt only in her arms.

“We have eight days,” she said, reading his eyes. She pushed against his chest so that he fell back, and she swung her leg over his hips to straddle his lap.

“We’ll make the most of them,” he said, his fingers kneading the soft skin of her hip as she shimmied up his legs until her thighs cradled his erection. He let his hand slide forward over her hip into the tangle of curls between her thighs, stroking, seeking.

“The
mo—st,” she gasped softly as he pushed two fingers gently into her soft, wet heaven. Her eyes turned liquid. “Love me, Asher.”

And he did.

And he would.

Forever.

***

On Monday morning, as Asher worked out in his home gym, Savannah received an e-mail from Maddox
McNabb. He loved the article and told her that after some edits, it would be published on the front page of the Lifestyles section on the following Sunday, the Fourth. And while he hadn’t formally offered Savannah the job yet, she assumed that was just a formality at this point. Print the article; offer the job. As much as she hated the idea of leaving Asher, she was ready with her answer. The second chapter of her professional life wouldn’t be as the lead reporter at the
Sentinel
or on one of the cable news programs in New York, as she had planned, but at the
Phoenix Times
. She still didn’t love it, but it was a hell of a lot better than throwing in the towel.

It was a reputable place to start over, and while she tried to feel enthusiastic about the idea of a fresh start, a part of her—the part that included her heart—bucked and wheezed at the notion of leaving Asher in Maryland for
half a year while she jump-started her career across the country. Yes, he encouraged her to go. No, he’d never stand in the way of her dreams. And for heaven’s sake, they’d been together only a month. But leaving him to pursue her career while he underwent six months’ worth of painful surgeries? It didn’t feel right, and it nagged at her, making her second-guess her life’s path, making her wonder if she had her priorities right or if, as before, with Patrick Monroe, she was blinded to reality by the strength of her ambition.

She missed her mother’s gentle counsel and even Scarlet’s bouncy gaiety, which is why she was so grateful to hear from her sister the following afternoon.

Hey Vanna. Wondering if me and Trent can come by Asher’s 2night after work?

Savannah looked up at Asher, reading in the wingback chair beside her as the summer rain pelted the windows. They’d worked all morning to pack up and box a good portion of his belongings for Maryland.

“Asher. Scarlet just texted me.”

He looked up at her, his face impassive but interested. “What’d she say?”

“She and Trent want to come over tonight.”

He rested his Kindle on his lap and took a deep breath. “You ready to hear what they have to say?”

“I’m not ready for more crap.”

He grinned at her, tilting his head to the side. “That’s my girl. Denial
ain’t just a river in Egypt.”

“No, I mean it. I’ll want to smack her
lights out if she goes on about Lance being blameless.”

“Won’t know unless you say yes,
darlin’.”

Savannah took a deep breath, staring at the text.

“And I’ll be with you every minute,” he added quietly, reaching over the small table between them to touch her arm.

Savannah took his hand and braided her fingers through his, looking to her right to catch his eyes as they gazed at her sadly. She couldn’t help the way her gut twisted at the simple sweetness of his words.
Every minute
. And then her brain tortured her by following up:
For only five more days.
And then what? The searing solitude of separation. The agony of letting go of each other for months on end.

Would like to resolve this
, she typed.
See you here at 5:30.

“I told her five thirty so they’ll be gone before we have dinner.”

“And if you resolve things, will you go home?”

He seemed calm, serene, looking straight ahead at the stained glass that was covered with rivulets of rain, but her eyes were drawn to his fingers, which curled quietly into a fist.

“No, Asher,” she murmured, putting her book on the table and standing. She took his Kindle from his lap and placed it on top of hers, then she sat down in his lap. His arm fell around her waist, his hand resting loosely in her lap. “I want every minute I still have with you.”

He twisted his head slightly to kiss her, and Savannah closed her eyes, as she often did now, cataloging the feel of Asher’s skin against hers: the heat of his mouth, the strong silkiness of his tongue, the way her insides turned to lava and her panties moistened. The way his erection sprang to life beneath her bottom, pressing up through his jeans. The way his right elbow rested firmly on her hip to keep her in place as his left hand slipped under her s
hirt to stroke the skin of her belly.
Memorize him, Savannah. Memorize him so that when you are far away, you will remember what it felt like to be with him.
Remember the touch of his fingertips over the goose bumps on your breasts, the way his mouth sucks on your nipples, the way it feels when he slides, thick and impatient, into your waiting warmth.
Remember what it feels like to be loved.

She sobbed into his mouth, and he swallowed it, moving his hand up her chest to slip underneath her bra. She pulled the shirt over her head and bared her breasts to him.

“I want you,” she said, opening her eyes to find him staring at her. “Right now. Right here. It’s the only thing that makes it bearable.”

“I know,” he said.

“And slowly,” she added, sliding off his lap and reaching for his belt buckle. “I want to remember everything. I don’t want to forget.”

“Neither do I, baby.”

She unbuttoned his pants and pushed them down to his thighs as he leaned up to help her. His erection sprang free, rigid and swollen, glistening slightly at the top. Raising her eyes to his, she pulled down her shorts and panties before climbing back on his lap, her knees sinking into the seat cushion on either side of his hips as she lowered herself onto him.

His arm held her around the waist, tiny sounds from his throat making her stomach jump with longing. His eyes fluttered then focused in bliss, holding her captivated as she moved as slowly as possible, trying to feel every place he touched her, inside, outside. His palm on her bare hip, the way he stretched her tight passage, the way his neck finally bent forward so he could rest his forehead on her chest.

When she’d taken all of him within her, he exhaled, his breath hot on her neck. He raised his head to find her eyes and look deeply into them as they remained motionless, joined as intimately as possible.

He throbbed within her, but didn’t move, holding her eyes, regulating his breathing as a bead of sweat rolled from his forehead down his cheek.

“Have you ever tried tantric sex?” he asked in a low, gravelly voice. “I read about it.”

If it was possible for her to flood wetter and hotter, she did. Her eyes widened and her lips parted in anticipation. No, she hadn’t. Yes, she wanted to.

“Hold my eyes. Breathe with me,” he whispered, taking a deep breath through his nose that swelled his chest and made his firm pecs rub fleetingly against her nipples, tightening them immediately. She stared at him, watching him, watching his body draw away from hers.

“Breathe in when I do.”

They inhaled together, focused on each other’s eyes, a shiver crawling down Savannah’s back as her erect nipples came in contact with his skin again. His pelvis shifted slightly upward, and she tried to keep her eyes open as sensations assaulted her.

“Breathe again,” he ordered, and she reached for his shoulders, bracing herself against him as they breathed in together and he clenched his ass to push slowly into her, then released his muscles, pulling back. These were tight movements, slow and tiny, but she felt every nerve ending as he slowly massaged her from the inside, his chest rasping against the pulsing, sensitive skin of her nipples.

“Again,” he ordered, and she swallowed, clenching her internal muscles this time when he thrust up. “Hold it.”

She panted, sweating against him as her nipples pushed into his
pecs and his length throbbed inside her, held tight by her muscles. His breathing was becoming less controlled, shallow and ragged as he stared at her, refusing to break eye contact.

Finally he released his muscles, and she felt the slight downward movement of his sex deep inside. The pressure in her belly, in the wet, sacred place that he owned, was building to an almost unbearable intensity.

She moaned as they took another deep breath together, bracing herself for the way he slid high inside her, claiming the most secret parts of her for his own. The eye contact was blistering, searing, like he was looking into her soul, and she wanted him there, but she’d never felt so naked to anyone before. She couldn’t look away, even when she felt the wetness of tears rolling slowly down her face.

“What are we doing?” she asked, locking her hands around his neck.

“I’m ruining you,” he said unflinchingly, “for anyone else.”

“Asher,” she gasped, as he held his position high inside her again. The gathering between her hips was too sharp, too sweet, too demanding to ignore. A swirling started, making her skin hot, then cold, making it shiver, then sweat. Her neck dropped back as she released her internal muscles and felt his hardness move infinitesimally inside her, shattering her control.

Instinctively she rolled her hips forward over him, and he groaned, forgetting their breathing, his arm like iron around her back as he dipped his head, reaching for her nipple with his mouth and pounding up into her. She bowed back over his arm, offering her breasts to him, throwing her head back as the first wave of orgasm crashed over her body, splintering her thoughts until the only litany in her head was the name of her love,
Asher Asher Asher
.

His hand slid up her spine and clamped the back of her neck, pushing her head to his so he could capture her lips roughly, seeking, demanding, his tongue plunging into her mouth to stroke hers as he growled her name.

“Savannah!” he cried, raising his neck and thrusting up into her wet heat one last time. “Now!”

A scream ripped from her throat as the tip of his hardness kissed her womb and her muscles tightened fiercely around him. He came deep in long pulses as her muscles convulsed, flexing and releasing wildly around him, draining him until his head dropped, limp, onto her shoulder. The arm around her back relaxed, and she leaned forward until her forehead burrowed into the curve of his neck where, with every passing moment, she wished she could remain forever.

***

“… so you see,
Vanna, you don’t need to worry. Lance should be in California by tomorrow, and he’s not coming back for the wedding. He’s not coming back for a long time. I promise.”

Asher squeezed Savannah’s shoulder, and she looked up at him gratefully before turning back to her sister.

“What about what happened in Myrtle Beach?” she asked.

Scarlet nodded to Trent, reaching for his hand.