Write or Wrong (Common Threads #9)

Chapter 23

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

*DRESS*

ZARA

“Good day?” Cas asked.

She glanced up and caught his eyes in the rearview mirror. Smiling, she nodded. “Very good,” she confirmed. Settling back in the middle seat she glanced out the window as Cas steered them out of the studio’s parking lot and headed for home.

The rumble of a motorcycle sounded from behind them and she twisted in her seat to see Asa following.

Her skin got hot and her stomach trembled as images from the night before flashed through her mind. She crossed one leg over the other as the heat spread lower.

Between all the writing and recording they’d done that day, she hadn’t stopped thinking about his hands and how they’d felt on her body. Or the weight of him pressing…in.

She inhaled a shaky breath as electricity tripped her heart.

It was beautiful and scary and new and confusing. And she finally understood why people acted like sex was such a big deal. Because it was a really big fucking deal. No pun intended.

And the songwriting!

The things they’d tracked that day were some of her best work ever. It felt like everything she’d learned so far about music and creativity and art had finally coalesced into this massive glittering haze of perfection.

As if her heart’s purpose had been unlocked and it all made sense now.

The SUV pulled into the garage and Devan got out first. She went into the house for the initial check. Cas followed, Zara brought up the rear, lost in a daydream of words and music and late-night kisses.

She made her way up to the kitchen and got a bottle of wine out of the fridge. She poured herself a glass.

“Are you guys hungry?” she asked Cas when he came back to the kitchen after they finished checking the house for security risks.

He shook his head.

“Are you sure? I have tamales…” she tried to tempt him, opening the freezer. She had so many tamales.

“Will you need a ride to the studio tomorrow?” Cas asked.

Zara sighed and closed the freezer. She clicked her nails on the quartz countertop. “Yes?” she said.

Cas’s lips twitched. “What time?”

Asa entered the kitchen and Zara’s eyes went to him immediately only to find his attention already on her.

Oh why did that do things to her insides?

The way he looked at her made her feel like he saw more than others. But instead of feeling exposed or vulnerable, she just felt safe.

“What time should Cas be by to take us to the studio and also, do you want tamales?” she asked both questions at once.

Asa hummed. “Yes, to the tamales,” he replied. “I don’t know about the other one. Are you gonna want to sleep in?” he asked, with a slight twitch of his cheek.

Yes, please. With you. Naked.

She swallowed as her heart took off like it had been loaded into a slingshot. She wanted two things in equal amounts. She never wanted to leave his bed, and she also wanted to keep making music because she’d entered a new level of intensity.

Or was it insanity? It was hard to tell.

Slowly, she faced Cas. “Can I text you after breakfast?”

Cas nodded and headed for the exit. Devan appeared out of the shadows and joined him.

And then they were alone again for the first time since that morning.

“Are you hungry?” she asked because she didn’t know how to bridge one moment to the next. What she wanted was to throw herself at him and start taking off their clothes.

Which was such a different feeling for her that she didn’t know if that was okay or not. They’d crossed into a new realm of their relationship and she didn’t want to ruin it by being too eager.

Asa was older; his experience was vastly different than hers. She didn’t want to come across as chaotically na?ve. And the thing was, she trusted him to tell her. To be honest, to teach her what she didn’t know about how it could be without making her feel stupid.

He came around the island, his dark eyes holding her in place. When he reached her, he slipped a hand in between the opening of her black silk blouse. It was easy for him to glide his warm palm across her belly up to her ribs because she’d only fastened one button at the center of her chest.

Her lips parted and she had to tilt her head back to continue meeting his eyes. Her hands landed on his biceps and she slid her fingers under the hem of his short sleeves.

Touching him, being touched by him…nothing else felt so natural but also filled her with tiny explosions of awareness.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, voice low. Gentle. His other hand swept her hair off her neck before settling on her hip.

“Not for food,” she said, her voice a strained whisper.

His eyes danced over her face, lingering on her mouth in a way that shot heat straight to her lower regions.

“Let’s eat later,” she suggested.

His answering smile was all kinds of hot. He dipped his head and she closed her eyes. But instead of kissing her, he nuzzled the side of her neck and spoke low in her ear. “Will you let me show you how much I want you?”

She inhaled a shaky breath as heat flooded her body. His hand on her ribs moved higher and his thumb grazed her nipple through the thin lace of her bra.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you all day,” he murmured, his lips pressing light kisses to the shell of her ear and the side of her neck. “To touch you,” he whispered, his thumb making another pass over her nipple. “To taste you.” His hand on her hip pulled her against him.

She moved her hands from his biceps to his face, forcing him to look at her.

Her eyes searched his, looking for something. Something that was also screaming inside of her.

“Is this okay?” she asked. “Is it okay for me to want you this much?”

She knew what she was asking, but did he? Was it okay to be in this with him? Was she safe? Was she ruining everything by wanting not just more, but all of it?

His blink was slow, careful. His expression open and honest. “Only if you understand that I probably want this—want you —even more than that,” he said seriously.

Her apprehension and hope must’ve shown on her face because his eyes gentled even more.

“It’s okay if you don’t believe me yet,” he said. “I’m going to enjoy proving it to you.” His mouth claimed hers in a slow searing kiss that ignited her skin and set her insides on fire.

She let out a small gasp as he scooped her into his arms and headed for the stairs.

Asa’s strength was something that she rarely noticed in the abstract. It just…was. Not his physical strength (which she’d actually thought about a lot since that day in the backyard with the hose), but his emotional depth and strength of character. And so, him carrying her up two flights of stairs didn’t seem unmanageable.

Logan would have dropped her. Who was she kidding? Logan wouldn’t have even tried.

She shoved thoughts of Logan out of her mind. She didn’t want him here. Not now. Not ever again.

They reached her bedroom and Asa carefully set her on her feet. He caught her mouth with his and she pushed up on her toes, trying to get closer. Hands, arms, bodies, all angled to increase the contact between them.

He moved his mouth to her cheek and then her ear where his tongue swirled over the sensitive skin just below her earlobe. “Your skin is so soft,” he whisper-growled in her ear, unbuttoning her shirt.

He slid the black silk down over her shoulders while his mouth trailed hot kisses down her neck, to her chest, to her stomach.

Her back hit the wall and her hands tangled in his thick hair. He looked up at her from his knees, a devilish smirk on his gorgeous face.

“Put my glasses on the table, baby,” he instructed, his hands kneading her hips.

She slid his glasses off his face and went to set them on the nearby nightstand but lost focus when his tongue swirled along the top hem of her jeans. The glasses clattered onto the nightstand and her hands went right back to his hair.

He undid her jeans and pushed them down her hips. He helped her step out of them before sliding her black panties down next. Moving his hands over her thighs and around her hips and back again, he lifted his eyes to hers.

The raw hunger she saw there made her knees weak.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he said before kissing below her bellybutton while maintaining eye contact.

She let out a little whimper and he moved his mouth lower, placing hot, wet kisses along her upper thighs and across her bikini line. One hand hooked behind her knee and he positioned her leg over his shoulder, opening her to him.

She’d never been affected like this. With every hot caress she knew she would be altered forever. Never again would she be able to feign ignorance of what she was capable of experiencing. And the way he touched her, with reverence and care, convinced her that she should only experience this type of adulation in her life.

He used his mouth and his hands to hold her open and dismantle her one breathless pant at a time. Her head tipped back against the wall as she moaned and whimpered, the pleasure so new and rewarding.

And overwhelming.

“Asa,” she whimpered. “I can’t!”

It felt too good. She was unraveling in a way she knew she’d never fully put herself back together.

“You can,” he replied with conviction. “Let go, baby,” he encouraged. “Let me give this to you.”

So many sensations bombarded her, his beard on her inner thighs, his tongue dancing and flicking over her clit, his lips sucking and kissing, his hands stroking and entering, his words coaxing and encouraging.

Her orgasm built quickly, spiraling toward her center in a reckless, unexpected pressure.

“Ace!” she cried, feeling her entire world about to come apart. “I’m…I’m,” she panted, unsure what she needed to say. It was all too much. Way too much. So much more than she’d ever experienced or deserved.

He groaned his praise, sending vibrations through her sex. It sent her over the edge, flying into an oblivion of ecstasy.

He held her hips in a firm grasp as his mouth lapped up the result of his determination. Both of her hands were in his hair and she knew she was holding him too tight but she couldn’t stop rocking herself against his mouth, as wave after wave crashed through her.

Her body shook and trembled as she came down from the most intense orgasm of her life. He slowed his ministrations, reading her body language like he was born to it.

“That’s my girl,” he growled against her inner thigh, his hands stroking and kneading the muscles of her hips and ass. “That’s my fucking girl,” he said again, kissing his way up to her belly and slowly getting to his feet.

Her body sagged against him and he caught her. He brushed her wild hair out of her face, his eyes taking in the aftermath of his handywork.

She gripped his wrists and tried to blink her way back to coherency.

He’d ruined her. He’d dismantled her body on a molecular level and reassembled it so that he would only ever be the one who knew how to touch it.

A sideways smile slowly spread across his face like he knew exactly what she’d just been thinking. And maybe he did. Maybe he was an actual wizard because what had just happened was definitely magical.

“That was—” she started to say but his mouth was on her neck and her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

He hummed against her skin as he went to work on the hooks of her bra. It released and he slipped the straps down her arms, only pulling away far enough to let the clothing drop to the floor. He tugged his t-shirt over his head and tossed it aside.

Her breasts pressed against his warm chest and he held her to him. She was all supple limbs and satisfied sighs as he brought her to the bed and laid her down in the center.

He discarded his jeans and boxers before joining her.

She reached for him, needing more. To touch him, to hold him, to make sure he was real and not a very powerful fever dream.

“Your skin,” he murmured between indulgent kisses. “Is impossibly soft.” He skimmed his mouth over her neck like he was memorizing the texture of it. His hands roamed like they were on their own exploratory mission so she allowed hers to do the same.

She was jealous of the ink that graced his arms, wishing she too could wrap herself around him and stay forever.

His round shoulders were solid and warm like a stone left in the sun. His chest firm, with dark hair sprinkled across the expanse and trailing down his flat abs.

He was so hot and he smelled so good. How did he smell this good? She couldn’t remember a man ever smelling amazing to the point of actually turning her on. It was some combination of his soap and shampoo and deodorant and whatever he used on his beard. She grabbed his face and pressed her mouth to his and he groaned when her tongue slipped into his mouth. She tasted him and her mixed together and if anyone had asked her if that was something she’d enjoy she’d have said no.

But she’d have been lying.

His large, capable hands caressed her breasts, fingers circling her nipples before lightly pinching and tugging on them.

Zara arched her back, pressing herself into his touch, feeling that lazy spiral of arousal begin to quicken.

He left her mouth to make-out with her breasts and she sighed and squirmed beneath him. Electricity shot from her nipple to her navel when he sucked her into his mouth. Her moans and sighs grew louder, encouraging, desperate, as he did the same thing to the other breast.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he murmured, lifting his head and raking his eyes over her. He smoothed his hand over her belly, up her breast, back down, curving around her hip. “Gorgeous doesn’t even cover it.”

She reached between them and took hold of his erection. His eyes rolled back and he cursed under his breath as she pumped his length once. She watched his reaction as she slid her thumb over the tip, smearing the small amount of liquid over the end.

The tendons in his neck grew thick and he closed his eyes, dropping his head forward. “Oh, fuck, Zara.”

His tone, his words, his face, all caused wetness to rush to her center.

She made a soft noise of desperation and his eyes opened to hers. Heat flashed between them and he kneed her legs apart, settling in between them. He grabbed a condom from the nightstand and sat back on his heels.

She couldn’t take her eyes off him, sitting up in the moonlight. His dark hair, damp with exertion, messy from her fingers, his hardpacked muscles curving and straining in all the right places. His tall, thick erection standing proud between them.

He rolled the condom on and braced himself over her.

Holding eye contact, he took her hand and brought it down between them.

“Are you wet enough?” he asked, putting her fingers at her entrance.

Her slickness surprised her and she nodded. He moved her hand to his shaft. She encircled his length and he let go, catching her leg behind the knee and pulling it high along his ribs.

He was telling her to guide him in. To put him where she wanted him.

Putting her in control by teaching her how she should be fucked. How she should be loved.

She’d never experienced this kind of intimacy. Sure, they were having sex which was as physically intimate as you could get. But it was all the eye contact. The pauses in between. The gentle check-ins. Like he wanted to make sure she knew it was him who was drawing out her pleasure. That it was Asa who touched her like his life depended on it. That he was the one fully committed to her in this moment.

She lined his cock up with her entrance and lifted her hips. He slowly pushed inside her, pressing in inch by inch until she was full of him. They both moaned.

He started a slow rhythm meant to torture her and she loved every stroke. His breath mingled with hers, their pants in tandem.

“Oh, fuck,” he growled, a light sheen of sweat breaking out along his forehead. “You feel so fucking good. Like you were made for me.”

Maybe she was. Because it felt the same for her.

Like he’d unlocked parts of her body and soul that had been hidden all this time. She’d never been vocal during sex, never saw the point. But she could hear herself now. Didn’t understand it, wasn’t in control of it. The whimpers and moans and cries of a woman awakened.

Asa leaned down and touched his forehead to hers. “Fucking hell, Zara,” he panted. “Nothing has ever felt this good.”

She pulled his face to hers and kissed him hard, her tongue sliding along his. He groaned into her mouth and she clenched around his cock. He slipped a hand between them and started to circle her clit.

“Come with me,” he said, his voice an urgent rasp that did things to her.

She said his name, or tried to, as the delicious tension in her body found its outlet and her sex exploded in a shower of sparks. Her body bowed and bucked and the movement of his hips turned jerky until they were both spent and clinging to one another.

He tried to hold his weight off her body but she wrapped her legs around him, not wanting him to go anywhere yet. An aftershock clenched her core and he groaned in response.

He placed slow, tender kisses all around her face and hairline. Her spent and blissful body relaxed beneath him and she dropped her legs to the side. He slid out of her and pulled her into his arms.

“How does it get better every time?” she asked, breathless and delighted.

“That’s all you, gorgeous.” He kissed her temple, her cheek, her lips.

“Pretty sure it was you,” she said with a side eye.

He chuckled a deep, sexy rumble. “I think it’s both of us.” He smiled down at her and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I guess I’ll accept that answer,” she acquiesced and his smile grew lazy.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

She actually was kind of hungry. They hadn’t eaten when they’d gotten home, had they? They’d just gotten right to business.

“I’m going to use the bathroom and then I’ll make some food for you,” he suggested, his dark eyes liquid pools of endless warmth.

“You’re going to make me food?” she asked, blinking up at him as tears stung the back of her eyes.

He smiled at her like she was being silly, pressed a kiss to her lips, and got out of the bed.

She rolled over and watched him walk to the bathroom and close the door.

After all that and it was the fact that he was going to make food for her that hit that tender spot in between her ribs.

The tear that leaked out was wiped away almost immediately. But not before she understood what it meant.

She was stupid in love with this man. And she’d never be the same again.

ASA

“Oh my God, that smells amazing,” Zara said, entering the kitchen.

He glanced over his shoulder from where he was whisking the eggs and cream together. She was in his t-shirt and nothing else, her hair a wild mess that he’d helped create.

Fuck, she was gorgeous.

She slid her arms around his waist from behind and peeked around his arm at the cast iron skillet on the stovetop. “What are you making?”

“A frittata.” With spinach, peppers, cheese, potatoes, and garlic. He put the bowl of eggs down and turned in her arms. She beamed up at him and he dipped lower to kiss her forehead. He wrapped his arms around her and she rested her cheek against his bare chest.

After a moment there, she let go and opened the fridge. “Do you want some juice?” she asked, taking the container of orange-pineapple juice out.

He murmured an affirmative and watched her from the corner of his eye as she moved around the kitchen getting glasses and plates out.

She sat down on one of the stools on the opposite side of the island and propped her elbow on the counter, her chin in her palm.

“I like this,” she said, a dreamy smile on her lips.

“What? Me making you food?” he asked, shooting her a grin over his shoulder.

“Well, that too. But I meant you walking around in your boxers.” She whistled softly. “Look at that ass.”

His neck heated and he chuckled while stirring the veggies. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I just think you underestimate how hot you are. Remember that day I hosed you off in Nikki’s backyard?”

“How could I forget?” The day she’d come crashing back into his life. Why had he resisted her pull so much? All of his reasons seemed so trivial now.

“I’ve never gotten that booty out of my mind. It’s been a massive distraction.”

He wiggled said booty in her direction and smiled when she giggled.

He poured the eggs into the pan and let them set before sticking the frittata in the oven to finish.

When he served her the finished food on a plate, her amber eyes sparkled at him and she tried to hide her shy smile.

“What?” he asked, taking a seat beside her at the island.

“Nothing.” She shook her head once and smiled down at her plate. “I’m just happy is all.”

He pulled his stool closer to hers and sat sideways so his bent knees caged her in. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and kissed her neck below her earlobe. “I’m happy too,” he murmured.

She tilted her head his direction. “Yeah?”

He slowly inhaled and then released it, his heart settling like a content kitten in the sun. “Yeah.”

She swallowed and rolled her lips inward, like she was trying to talk herself into saying something. He waited.

“After this will you stay with me? Upstairs?” She turned those gold eyes on him and he got a little lost in her unguarded sincerity. “From now on?”

“If that’s what the lady wants,” he said, voice rough. His hand on her knee flexed and he had to purposely hold still and not take her into his arms.

“I want that,” she answered in a soft, tentative breath.

This was big for her. He could feel it. To ask. To express her wishes.

In her business and in her art she knew exactly what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to demand it. She didn’t let anyone push her around.

But when it came to things that were only for her—intimate, vulnerable, relationship things, the places where trusting someone had left scars and taught hesitancy—she kept quiet.

So, yeah, he knew the enormity of her request. And it filled him with determination. He would never be one of those people who left her with scars. In fact, she’d have to be the one to leave him. Because he knew he’d never willingly leave her.

“Okay, killer,” he said, touching her arm. “I got you.”