Asher reads my face and hums, the sound a soft reassurance. “I’m right here.” He rubs his nose over mine in the sweetest gesture. Hazel eyes burn with entreaty. “Can I have you, now?” He doesn’t need to ask again, but this is Asher. He probably knows, somehow, that hearing him beg helps raze the last of the self-doubt rooted in my belly. The thorny weed curls into dust as he shudders through another plea. “Please, darling?”
