For two years, I'd wondered what this would be like if it ever happened. I'd imagined it would be either transactional or brutally possessive.
I was wrong with both. It was slow.
Asher touched me like he was solving a complex problem that required his complete focus. His hands traced my skin with his full attention, noting where I shivered, where I gasped, where I arched into his touch.
The ruthless CEO was gone, replaced by a man who wanted to learn every secret of my body.
He kissed his way down my neck, pausing to test the sensitive spot below my ear that made me tremble. His hands traced the curve of my waist and my spine, discovering what drew a sigh from my lips and what made me moan.
"Tell me what you like." He murmured against my collarbone, his voice was filled with desire. "I want to know everything."
The request was so unexpected that I couldn't find words at first.
"I... I don't know." I admitted in my shaky voice. "I've never..."
I didn't need to finish.
"Then we'll discover it together."
And we did with patience I didn't know he had, with attention that made me feel precious rather than just desired.
He learned that I was sensitive along my ribs, that kisses behind my knee made me gasp, that when he whispered my name in that rough, desperate voice it completely unravelled me.
When he finally moved over me, and his body covered mine, he paused.
"Rysa, look at me."
I opened my eyes that I hadn't realized I'd closed. His face was above mine, close enough that I could see his pupils which had grown wide, and the flush on his cheekbones.
"Don't hide. Not now." He whispered.
And I didn't look away. I kept my eyes open, letting him see everything. He moved slowly, taking his time, and when I finally shattered in his arms with his name on my lips, he followed soon after, whispering my name like a prayer against my neck.
Afterward, I lay curled against him with my head resting on his chest, listening to his heartbeat which was gradually slowing from its racing pace.
His arm was wrapped tightly around me, holding me close with a possessiveness that felt safe. It was like he was afraid I might vanish if he didn't hold me. My fingers made random patterns on his chest.
We didn't speak. We didn't have any words for what had just happened. But somehow, this silence was peaceful and intimate.
His hand moved through my hair, his fingers sliding through the strands and sometimes grazing my shoulder and back, as if he couldn't stop touching me now that he was allowed to.
"Rysa." He spoke finally.
"Mmm?"
"Thank you."
I lifted my head slightly to look at him.
"For what?"
He looked at me.
"For not hiding and being real with me."
"You made it safe for me to be real."
His arm tightened around me, pulling me closer.
"I want to always keep you safe."
I placed my head back on his chest as I closed my eyes in response. I felt protected, cherished and wanted.
As I closed my eyes, an old memory resurfaced.
It was a winter morning, six months into our marriage. I woke up alone in the guest room, the place I'd been sleeping ever since he made it clear that our marriage didn't require sharing a bed.
The space beside me was cold. It was a cruel reminder of my loneliness.
I lay there, listening to the faint sounds of Asher moving outside, getting ready for work. He was only a few steps away, yet completely out of my reach.
That morning, I wondered if this was how it would always be. Will I spend years waking up alone because of a man who would never see me, never want me, never choose me?
That memory was painful even now.
As if reading my mind or maybe feeling the way my body was behaving, Asher's arm tightened around me.
"I'm here." He said.
"I know." I whispered.
"No, Rysa. Listen to me." He shifted slightly, and his other hand came up to tilt my face towards him. "I'm here with you. There will be no more separate rooms, no more distance, no more waking up alone."
His thumb brushed my cheek, and I realized there were tears there I hadn't noticed.
"You're crying." He said softly.
"I'm okay." I replied. "I just... I spent so many mornings alone in that guest room listening to you get ready for work in another part of the penthouse, wondering if I'd ever matter enough for you to actually want me there."
"I'm so sorry I made you feel that way."
"You didn't know…"
"I should have known, should have asked , should have cared enough to notice you were lonely instead of assuming our arrangement was working because it was convenient for me."
He pulled me closer, holding me in a gentle embrace before pressing his lips to mine.
"Sleep." He murmured. "I'll be here when you wake up."
And for the first time in the two years of our marriage, I believed him. And I slept, wrapped in his warmth.
My eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the light of early morning filtering through the curtains. Asher was propped on one elbow beside me, already awake, watching me sleep.
"Good morning, wife." He said, his voice was still rough from sleep.
Wife.
He'd called me that before hundreds of times in public settings, but this time, in the morning light with his hand reaching out to brush hair from my face, the word sounded completely different.
"Good morning, husband." I replied softly.
He smiled.
"How long have you been awake?" I asked.
"A while." His fingers traced my jaw. "I wanted to make sure you were actually here."
"I'm here."
He leaned down, and kissed my forehead, then my nose, and then finally my lips.
"Because I'm not letting you go."
"I don't want you to." I admitted.
His smile widened, and he pulled me against him, tucking me into his side. We lay like that for a while, just lying together.
Eventually, the need for coffee and the reality of the day ahead pulled us from the warmth of the bed. But this morning was different from every other morning of our marriage.
Asher didn't immediately disappear to get ready for work. Instead, he dressed up in casual clothes that I'd never seen him wear before and held out his hand.
"Come on. Let's make breakfast together."
I was both surprised and shocked. I took his hand, wore one of his shirts, and let him take me to the kitchen.
Asher walked towards the coffee maker while I took out eggs and vegetables from the refrigerator. He started preparing coffee, and I staring making omelettes, both of us walking around each other in the kitchen like we'd done this a thousand times before.
"I didn't know you could cook." I said as I watched him placing mugs on the counter.
"I can't, really. Toast and coffee is my limit." He poured coffee into both mugs. "But I'm good at quality control."
I laughed.
"So, you'll supervise while I cook?"
"Exactly." He leaned against the counter, sipping his coffee, and watching me. "Although watching you in my shirt might be too distracting for effective supervision."
"Asher..."
"What? I'm appreciating my wife. That's allowed now."
I blushed.
"Come on, let's eat now. I'm hungry." I said to hide my flushed cheeks.
We ate breakfast sitting side by side at the table. He told me about a documentary on chess strategy he'd watched. I told him about a jewellery exhibition I'd read about online. We talked about random things that had nothing to do with business for the first time.
"I have a meeting at eight." He said, glancing at the clock. "The European expansion update with the board."
"I know. I saw it on your calendar."
"There's also a trip to Paris in two days. I'll be there for three days for meetings with acquisition targets and partnership discussions."
"I saw that too." I'd been reviewing his schedule as his special assistant.
"Come with me."
I blinked.
"To Paris? You want me to come to Paris with you?" I repeated to make sure I'd understood correctly.
"Yes." He turned to face me, his hand covering mine. "This time not as a decoration for business dinners, though there will be a few of those. But as my partner, my wife."
"I've never been to Paris."
"I know. I remember from our pre wedding discussions when you said you'd always wanted to go but never had the chance."
He'd remembered that? From a conversation two years ago when we were complete strangers?
He squeezed my hand.
"I want to take you to Paris, show you the city, have dinners with you that aren't about business, wake up with you somewhere beautiful."
This wasn't CEO Asher commanding his assistant to accompany him on a business trip. This was a husband asking his wife to travel with him.
"Fine. I'll go with you."
He smiled and kissed my forehead.