After a moment of quiet, she murmured, “That is a huge secret for thirty-one years. It’s crazy.”
He barked out a humorless laugh. “I told you.”
“I didn’t mean it against your family,” she said gently. “More so the fact this woman never told your dad about the baby, and didn’t ask for child support or anything.”
“The worst part is, I feel so bad for my mom. She’s devastated.” Because she’d been lied to for thirty-one years. His sense of betrayal was nothing compared to the pain he’d seen in her eyes tonight. “Now, she has to go through all this shit with the public watching and judging.”
Honor’s hand landed on his shoulder to give a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry, Asher. This can’t be easy on any of you.”
That was an understatement.
“We knew the media scrutiny would be brutal with his senate campaign,” he spoke around another mouthful of cake, “and it being a national seat instead of state, but none of us expected something like this. It changes everything. My whole family is going to be different from this.”
His fork clattered when he dropped it onto the edge of the cake plate with an angry jerk. “Makes me want to punch something. Or someone. My dad maybe. The brother I should’ve known and grown up with, even though I know it’s not his fault. His mother, because I know it’s her fault, but of course, can’t hit a woman.” Hearing the sarcasm in his voice, he scrubbed his hands over his face, the scruff on his jaw abrading his palms. “Not that I ever would hit a woman.”
Honor’s hand shifted from his shoulder to the back of his neck, her fingers threading through his hair. “It’s okay to be angry, Asher.”
Ironically, her gentle touch soothed away the ragged edges of that anger, just like when he’d first laid eyes on her in his living room. He lowered his arms, closed his eyes, and leaned into her as the stroke of her fingers sent a warm tingle of awareness all the way down his spine.
In the silence, the clink of a fork sounded, and then he felt her move to sit directly behind his back with her legs bracketing his sides. Her hands landed on his shoulders and began kneading his tense muscles.
Asher let out a low groan and hung his head to his chest. Her hands were like magic, offering relief and comfort while quieting his mind enough to review the past fifteen minutes with her in his mind.
A few minutes later, he lifted his head with a quiet, “Thank you.”
Her hands slowed, then stilled, then left his body. “Sure.”
The uncertainty in her voice brought a wry smile to his lips. He pointedly shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t stop. The thanks was for being here and listening, and for the cake—which is fucking awesome, by the way.”
He felt the tension in her thighs ease. Her soft laugh was music to his ears as her hands returned to resume their expert treatment. “Glad you like it.”
This time, everything else fell away as his focus narrowed to only the woman behind him. The strength of her delicate hands, the warmth of her thighs against his arms, the ever-present scent of freshly baked cake mingling with the underlying hint of peaches and cream he’d noticed earlier at dinner when he’d brushed her hair aside to press his lips to her neck.
Reaching up, he captured both her hands and pulled them down in front of him. He held one over his rapidly increasing heartbeat, and the other he lifted so he could press his lips to her open palm. “The only thing better than your cake is you.”
Her front leaned against his back, and then her warm breath fanned his ear. His breath caught in his throat as pure anticipation rushed through his body from head to toe.
“You think I’m awesome?” she asked in a teasing voice.
“No.” He paused, then added, “I think you’re fucking awesome.”
The retaliatory nip she gave his ear shot an arrow of lust zinging to his groin. He reached up to grasp the back of her neck while turning his head to align his mouth with hers. The smile parting her lips allowed him to slip his tongue past her teeth, and he pulled her closer to plunder and explore without mercy.
She took it all and gave it right back
, tangling her tongue with his as their teeth scraped and nipped, her eagerness escaping in a breathless whimper that had his pulse pounding with excitement and his own low rumble of need crawling up his throat.
When his neck began to ache, he maneuvered around until he knelt between her legs. The awkward jostling had them both smiling, until he crashed his mouth on hers in earnest. He splayed his palms on her back, caressing up and down, plastering her chest to his as her hands clenched in his hair in their joint effort to get ever closer.
Desperate for skin on skin, he grasped the hem of her T-shirt and dragged it up between them. They broke apart long enough for him to toss it aside, then came back together in breathless, sloppy kisses.
As he felt for the clasp at the back of her bra, she wedged her arms between them and started unbuttoning his shirt. “Bedroom?” she asked between gasps for air.
“Yeah,” he agreed. “Hang on.”
The moment she wound her arms around his neck, he surged to his feet with her in his arms. She lifted her legs to wrap around his waist, and he felt his way around the couch before heading for the hall. He buried his face against her neck, nipping and sucking at the base of her throat as her hair swished against his hands at her back with every step.
“Asher…wait.”