Wrong person 283

Chapter 283 

She won’t. 

Not this time. 

“Tell me if you want anything different,” I whisper. “Tell me if I go too far.” 

“You’re not going far enough,” she says, breathless, half-laughing, half-pleading. 

That makes me groan. A deep, raw sound I didn’t mean to let out. 

“Christ, Penny…” 

I pull her closer, our bodies aligned, her thighs warm against my hips, and she’s already shifting-restless, needing more. I 

can feel it in the way her breath stutters, the way she clutches at me like gravity stopped working. 

I slip my hand between us and touch her-light at first, a brush just to tease-and her whole body jerks beneath mine. 

“You’re so warm,” I whisper, brushing her lips with mine again, my fingers slow and steady. “So soft. You feel like heaven.” 

She moans, head tipping back, breath catching in her throat. 

“You like that?” I ask, voice ragged, rough, way too proud of myself. 

“Yes-God, Asher, yes…” 

I keep touching her, keep whispering to her, letting her ride the edge, then pulling her back, savoring every sound she 

makes. 

Her hips lift into my hand, her thighs trembling around me, and I know she’s close-I can feel it in the way her whole 

body goes tense and soft all at once. 

“I’ve got you,” I murmur. “Let go for me, baby.” 

And she does. 

With a gasp, a full-body shudder, her mouth open on a silent cry. She clings to me, her nails biting into my back, her body 

arching up as she falls apart in my hands. 

I watch her-stunned, undone-completely wrecked by the sight of her losing control because of me. 

“I love you,” I whisper, voice hoarse. “You don’t know how much.” 

She pulls me down into a kiss, her lips still trembling, her arms tight around my neck. “Then show me.” 

That’s all the permission I need. 

I press against her, slow and careful, my hands cupping her face as I line us up, and she gasps when she feels me. Her nails 

dig in again-sharp and perfect. 

“Still okay?” I ask, already half gone. 

2 

She nods. “Yes. Please.” 

I enter her slow, trying not to lose my mind. She’s so warm. So tight. Every inch a fight not to collapse completely. 

I bury my face in her neck, holding still, just feeling her, letting my body memorize hers all over again. 

“You feel…” I can’t even finish. I groan instead, hips barely moving, barely able to. 

Her hands slip into my hair. “Asher,” she breathes. 

I move, slow and deep, and she whimpers-beautiful and raw-and it damn near undoes me. 

Every time I pull back and press in again, I feel her wrap tighter around me, body arching to meet mine, mouth open, breath ragged. She holds onto me like I’m the only thing keeping her tethered to the earth. 

And maybe I am. 

But she’s everything to me. My gravity. My purpose. My home. 

“Look at me,” I whisper, hand sliding into her hair. 

She blinks up at me, eyes glassy, lips parted. She looks wrecked. She looks like mine. 

I kiss her again-slow, deep, full of everything I can’t say-and then I let myself go, let my body take over, moving harder, deeper, chasing that edge I’ve been starved for. 

She meets every thrust, her body clinging to mine, her mouth on my throat, my shoulder, anywhere she can reach. I hear my name on her lips like a prayer, like a plea, like a promise. 

We fall together-fast and full and trembling-wrapped around each other so tight there’s no telling where I end and she begins. 

And when it’s over, when we’re both breathless and shaking and still tangled in each other, I press my forehead to hers and whisper: 

“I will never let anything touch you again. You’re mine. Always.” 

She kisses me again-soft and slow-and I know I’ll spend the rest of my life earning the right to feel her like this.