"Yeah?"
I nod, tilting my head back to look at him. "I'm afraid though."
"Of what?" He cups my cheek in his palm, rubbing circles into my neck with his thumb.
"I don't know," I whisper. "I've always had a plan for my life. I always wanted to write more than anything. But when I'm with you, I want something else even more. It's scary how much I want this."
"Can I tell you something?" he asks, resting his forehead against mine.
"Anything."
"You're allowed to be afraid," he whispers. "But you need to remember one thing for me."
"What one thing?"
"I love you."
"Asher."
"It's true. I love you." He gives me a crooked smile that I feel all the way to my soul. "And I was kind of hoping that you wouldn't choose between me and your dreams."
I blink at him.
"You can have both, Kennedy. If you want to go to New York, we'll go to New York."
"But…"
He places his finger over my lips, silencing me. "My shop is here, but it doesn't have to be only here. I have the capital to open another shop, angel baby. Crimson Ink isn't tied to this building. It can be bigger than that. Or I could guest in someone else's shop. I've been asked before, but never had a need to be anywhere else."
"You would do that for me?" I stare at him in shock.
"Your dreams are important to you, which means they're important to me too," he says. "I love you, angel baby. I'll go anywhere, build a thousand shops if that's what I need to do. Whatever you want."
He means that. I see the truth written all over his face. He'd really go with me, start all over somewhere else. Not because he doesn't think I can take care of myself or because he thinks I'm weak. But because that's how much he believes in me. That's how much he loves me.
"Asher," I sob, flinging myself back into his arms. "I love you too. So much."
"Damn right you do, angel." He chuckles and swings me up into his arms. His mouth comes down on mine, his kiss hard and deep, full of emotion. It's as fierce as he is, and somehow just as beautiful. He squeezes my ass in his hands as he possesses my mouth, taking it as if he owns it. I think he might.
I moan his name, tugging at his t-shirt.
"Wait. Baby, wait."
"I don't want to wait!" I cry, frustrated that he's trying to slow me down when I need him naked right now. Everything I feel for him is building inside, creating a pressure that has me feeling like I'm going to explode apart at the seams. It's frighteningly powerful.
"I have something for you." He turns and plants my butt in his tattoo chair, gently prying my hands off his body. When I huff at him, he just chuckles. "Settle down or I'll be spanking you before I get inside you."
"Asher!" I moan. Why does the thought of him spanking me turn me on so much?
"Jesus Christ." He tips my head up, scrutinizing my expression. "I think you want me to spank you, don't you, angel baby?"
"No," I lie and then I bite my lip. "Maybe."
Heat flares in his eyes. He closes them and inhales a deep breath before taking a step away from me. "You could tempt a saint right down from heaven, Kennedy."
"Then I guess it's a good thing you aren't a saint, huh?" I sass.
"A damn good thing," he says, his voice a low growl that grinds against my womb. "Because I'm going to sin like a motherfucker when I get you naked, angel baby. You've had me ready to snap for days now. I can't wait to show you how many ways I can make you scream my name."
I clench my legs together at his threat and moan.
He smirks at me and then turns toward the desk against the far wall. The drawer slides open and he pulls out a sketchbook before carrying it over to me. He starts to hand it to me and then hesitates.
"It's just an idea. If you don't want to do it, you don't have to do it. I won't ever make you do something you don't want to do, all right?"
He sounds nervous. Or worried maybe.
"Show me," I demand, rabidly curious to see what has him worked up.
"You gave me the idea," he says and then flips the book around, setting it in my lap. "I drew it when I left last night."
I glance down at the book and then gasp. It's a quote from Jane Eyre, written in elegant script beneath a crown that rests askew on a book. I have as much soul as you, and full as much heart. The whole thing is only a couple of inches tall, but it's beautiful. I tell him as much.
"I was skimming through the book last night and saw this line," he says, reaching out to tap the page right above it. "It's you, angel baby. You may be tiny, but you're more than equal to anyone you meet. You're as fierce as a queen when something matters to you. You can do anything. If they don't see that, fuck them."
"It's perfect, Asher," I whisper, stroking my finger over the sketch. The simplicity of the crown contrasts with the elegant script, adding an unexpected layer to the piece, tying it together. "I love it."
"Do you want it?"
"You want to put it on me?" I ask…not sure why I'm surprised.
"Only if you want it," he says.
"Where?"
"Depends on if you want people to see it or if you want it to be our little secret," he says, reaching for my hand. He flips my arm over. "I can put it right here." He rubs his thumb over my wrist and then releases me to tug my shirt up. He tugs my pants down a couple of inches, sending a shiver of pleasure through me. "Or right here," he says, running his finger a couple of inches above my hipbone.
"The wrist," I decide instantly. "I want something else there."
"What?"
"Not telling." I grin at him. "But when I'm ready, I'll let you put it on me."
He meets my gaze, something dark and wholly wicked in his gray eyes. He swallows hard and nods.