I walk forward — towel still wrapped around me, still damp from the shower — but none of that matters. All that matters is Asher. All that matters is the way he watches me.
When I reach the edge of the bed, he reaches out his uninjured hand to me. Without hesitation, I take it. He gently tugs me closer until I'm standing between his knees, his forehead pressing against my stomach, his hands clutching my hips like he’s anchoring himself to me.
"I’m right here," I whisper, threading my fingers through his hair.
His arms tighten around me — not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make me feel it. And when he looks up at me, there's something in his eyes.
Something that tells me he’s just as terrified of losing me as I am of losing him.
Gathering my courage, I ran my hands over his chest a
