Asher grasped Fiona’s hand and led her out of Pat’s Pub. For a split second, he considered guiding her toward the waterfront, thinking they’d stand a better chance of talking if they weren’t within five feet of a bed. Then he changed his mind. He knew what he wanted to say, and he knew where he wanted to be when he said it. And it was in the damn bed.

“That was quite a night,” he started. “Sort of feels like life imitated art there. The Anything Goes theme slipping off the page and the stage and into reality.”

“You can say that again. I can’t believe Brock showed up. Or that he wore that stupid bear costume. I had to beg to get him to be Danny Zuko to my Sandy one year for Halloween. All he had to do was cuff his damn jeans and wear a leather coat. You would have thought I’d asked him to shave his head and walk around naked.”

Asher wished he was at a place where he could laugh about Brock’s big gesture, but he wasn’t there yet. “When I saw those pictures of the two of you flashing on every TV in the place…”

Fiona tugged his hand to stop him in place. He turned to face her, taking her other hand in his as she said, “Ancient history.”

“Two months ago isn’t that ancient.”

“It feels like a million years ago to me. Brock doesn’t exist in my world anymore. I swear.”

“He proposed, Fee. You said you wanted to get married just a week ago.”

She huffed out an exasperated breath that told him she found his comment completely ridiculous. It was a very comforting sound. “Not to him! I think you’re missing the most important part of the whole night. The last big gesture came…”

“And you resisted.”

She smiled. “Big gestures aren’t where it’s at.”

Asher wrapped his arm around her shoulders and they started walking toward the hotel again. “Out of vogue, huh?”

“Totally.”

“What’s in then?” he said, enjoying their easy banter.

“Hopefully Biggus Dickus in about,” she reached for her phone to check the time, “five minutes?”

He picked up the pace, the two of them laughing as they ran the last fifty feet to the hotel. Walking through the automatic doors, they fell into each other the second the elevator doors closed. Asher kissed her hard and hungrily, unwilling to give up the close proximity, her warmth or the sweet, clean scent of her hair even when the doors parted on their floor.

They walked, awkwardly, still kissing as he pushed her backwards down the hallway. Thank God it was the middle of the night and no one was around.

If felt amazing to have her lips on his again. He’d felt okay about where they stood on Thursday morning…the two of them still wandering around in a sexual haze, riding the last waves of complete satiation.

Then Owen came back, and too many days passed without touching or kissing or talking, and the doubts started to creep in. He wasn’t sure why. He’d kept his distance initially because he was hoping to grab some time alone with Owen to talk about their failed attempt at a ménage, but the right time never came. One day became two, and then three, and by then, he’d lost too much sleep to think clearly about anything, convinced he’d fucked up everything with Fiona irrevocably.

Asher shook the last of those insecurities away when Fiona surreptitiously reached down and pinched his ass as they finally reached the door to their suite.

“Bad girl,” he said, deepening his voice in the way he knew was certain to get her juices flowing.

They walked into the hotel suite together, grinning when they noticed the door to the room Teddy and Owen had been sharing since their return to Baltimore was closed.

“Someone’s getting busy over there,” Fiona whispered in a singsong voice.

Asher gestured toward the other bedroom, thrilled when she walked in that direction with a saucy grin.

When he followed her in, shutting and locking the door, she giggled and said, “Someone’s getting busy in here too.”

“Oh yeah? No conversation?”

“Can we save it until after?”

He nodded. “I think if you want me to say anything intelligent, it will have to be after.”

He put his glasses on the nightstand. Fiona perched on the edge of the mattress, but he shook his head, reaching for her arm. Asher pulled her up again, tugging her T-shirt over her head in one quick swish. The bra followed.

Fiona started unfastening her jeans, ready to steamroll through at full speed ahead. As always.

Asher swatted her hands away from her jeans. “Not so fast.”

She growled, an honest-to-God, narrow-eyed grumble that didn’t scare him a bit.

“Dirty looks aren’t going to get you what you want,” he said, his own voice suddenly deep and husky. His dick was rock-hard and currently in agreement with Fiona. For the first time, Asher had her all to himself without Owen, or the idea of him, looming in the back of Asher’s mind.

Fiona was his.

And he planned to make sure that she knew it beyond all reasonable doubt before she left this room.

He reached out to grasp her breasts, loving the way they filled his hands, her nipples budded, tight, perfect for sucking on.

The thought stimulated motion as he bent forward to take one into his mouth. Fiona gasped, then gripped his head, holding him to her.

She ran her fingers through his hair, fisting large sections and tugging. He grunted his approval even as he kept sucking.

“Doesn’t that hurt?” she whispered.

He lifted his head. “I’m like you, Fee. I don’t mind an edge of pain with the pleasure.” To prove his point, he took her other nipple in his mouth, increasing the suction until she moaned.

“God, Ash,” she whispered.

He played with her for several minutes until her panting turned to cries, and then, as always, curses and demands. He didn’t tell her that it wasn’t only her arousal that was reaching fever pitch. Every little mew or squeak she made had him fighting not to rip off his pants, toss her on the bed and fuck her until neither one of them could walk.

“Take off your shirt,” she said, her hands moving on him, intent on following her own command. He shrugged it off, laughing when her hands returned to her jeans with haste.

Once again, he pushed them away.

“Asher—” she started.

“Fiona,” he mimicked. She didn’t continue to chastise him when he took over, unzipping her pants, then pushing his hands inside the denim to work them off. There was no denying her ass looked hot in tight jeans, but he wondered sometimes how she could breathe in them.

Fiona kicked off her shoes, then the pants and panties.

He could never resist the temptation to take a step back to admire. “Jesus. Beautiful.” Then he added, “Mine.”

The last word seemed to have a more powerful effect. She reached out to run her hand along his chest, taking her own mini-tour before lifting her eyes to his and retorting with a “mine” in a tone that dared him to contradict her.

“Prove it,” he taunted.

Her eyes flashed with delight in the face of his dare. She loved a challenge.

Leaning forward, she sank her teeth into his pec, causing him to jerk back in surprise and, well…because it hurt.

He narrowed his eyes.

“Marking my territory.”

“Is that how this is going to go? Fine. I wouldn’t mind leaving a few marks myself.”

Before she could respond to that, he sat down on the side of the mattress and flipped her over his lap.

Fiona didn’t even try to push herself up. They’d toyed with spanking a few nights earlier, and if her body-racking orgasm was anything to go by, he’d say she’d loved it.

She proved that point even further when she went limp and actually sighed.

“It’s obvious spanking can’t be used as a punishment with you,” he murmured, rubbing his hands over her ass.

She looked up at him. “Punishment?”

Asher wasn’t surprised by her confusion. Fiona didn’t possess an ounce of submissiveness. God help him, she was probably more alpha than he was. The fact that she viewed spankings as foreplay was a testament to that. In Fiona’s mind, she was getting exactly what she wanted.

He recalled sitting with several of her uncles at that picnic many moons ago, listening to her father, Sky, and Tris trading “horror stories” about the challenges of raising their headstrong, independent children, namely Fiona and Colm. Asher had gotten a kick out of hearing some of the crazy things she had done when she was young, and the exasperation had still been evident in Sky’s voice as he’d talked about her willfulness and inability to admit defeat.

Funny enough, the men had all agreed in the end that those were probably all the traits that had led to her success as an adult. And the reason why the man who fell for her would always have to be on his toes.

Asher, too much like Fiona, hadn’t taken their comments as a warning. Instead, even then he’d felt the challenge behind them. Because he’d known the two of them were well suited.

“Yes,” he said at last. “Punishment. For when you’re naughty.”

She snorted and turned her face back to the floor as if he were joking. “Yeah, right. I’d love to see you try that.”

It was the worst thing she could have ever said.

Fiona was anticipating, looking forward to his sexual spanking. So he didn’t give it to her. He held her in the facedown position, lightly caressing her back and her ass.

She sighed contentedly for a full sixty seconds at his soft touch.

Then she grew impatient.

“Asher,” she said, thinking his name and her tone would be enough to stimulate a response.

He simply continued stroking her skin gently. In fact, he lightened the touch, barely moving his fingers and keeping them well away from the hot zone.

Fiona, queen of impatience, didn’t let another thirty seconds elapse before she looked up at him again. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Touching you.”

“Stop fucking around and get to the good stuff.”

Asher shook his head. “No. I’m testing out a theory.”

“What theory?”

“I’ve found your punishment. Withholding pleasure.”

She pushed up and he let her, but when she started to stand, he gripped her waist and tugged her until she was sitting on his lap.

“You’re pissing me off.”

He chuckled and kissed away the scowl. “I know, but I can’t resist. You’re very used to getting your way, Fee. In pretty much everything. Sex isn’t going to work that way.”

“Of course it is.”

Asher couldn’t help it. He laughed. Her answer was pure Fiona—and he realized this wasn’t a battle he wanted to wage tonight.

He wanted her.

More than that, he loved her. Completely. Which meant she was right. She was going to get everything she desired…and if he could find a way to make it possible, even more.

He flipped her over, teasing as he called her a hopeless case and planted several slaps on her ass.

Fiona gripped his calf muscle in order to gain leverage that would allow her to lift her ass toward his down strokes. She urged him to keep going, to spank her harder. Asher did both.

Maybe it was Fiona who’d schooled him on how things would go.

She glanced up at him when a chuckle escaped.

“Funny?” she asked.

Asher shook his head, not bothering to explain. He’d tell her later. Or actually, he wouldn’t. She was demanding enough already. It wouldn’t work in his favor if she knew the power was in her hands, that there was nothing he wouldn’t give her.

To distract her from her question, he slid his fingers between her legs, pressing two inside without preamble. She was soaking wet, her pussy on fire.

She gasped, her hips jerking toward him, moving in tandem with his thrusts.

“God, Ash. Fuck me. So ready.”

He was to, but he’d already lost too much ground with her. So instead, he continued playing, his fingers dancing from clit, to pussy, to toy with her ass. He’d made the rounds a few times, always leaving her just there, hovering on the peak, without allowing her to come.

After half a dozen near misses, she started to fight to get up.

“Can’t take any more. Need—”

“I know what you need.” He pressed her down, holding her face down over his lap, refusing to give way.

She struggled, until he pushed one finger all the way in her anus, straight to the hilt.

Fiona reared up.

“Oh my God,” she cried out loudly.

He withdrew, then returned, his finger drenched with the juices of her arousal. It eased his motion, allowed him to slide in smoothly.

When Fiona began to match his pace, he knew he’d made her a believer in anal play. He pushed her just to the edge of her orgasm, then pulled his finger out.

She went limp, the fight driven out of her.

“Ash,” she whispered, her body trembling slightly. “Please.”

It was all he needed to hear. He lifted her, gently laying her on her back. Shrugging off his jeans, he crawled over her, swiftly pushing inside her clenching pussy.

One thrust. That was all it took.

Fiona arched her back, crying out as she came.

Asher fucked her throughout, never slowing his pace, never giving her a chance to land. The first orgasm waned for mere seconds before the second flashed.

He prayed he’d be able to hang in there to give her a third, but in keeping her on edge, he’d pushed himself to the limit as well.

Once the second orgasm softened, her body relaxed and her eyes drifted closed.

Asher pushed in all the way and held, buried to the hilt. Then he bent lower to kiss her. Relaxed was not how he wanted her at the moment.

He stroked her clit, sparking an immediate response. Her eyelids flew open and she shook her head. “I can’t take another one of those,” she said, the words labored as she struggled to catch her breath.

“Of course you can. You’re going to. Next one is with me, okay?”

She nodded, though she looked far from convinced of her abilities.

Unable to resist, he kissed her again. Fiona’s tongue touched his, and he recognized a renewed energy in her. He let the kiss linger as he played with her clit, using that sensitive spot to rouse her, to bring her back into the game.

When her hips started to rise and fall, seeking more pressure, he gave her—them—exactly what they wanted.

A hard, frenzied, amazing fuck.

Asher had never taken a woman with such reckless abandon, but Fiona made it easy.

Hell, she made it necessary. Her nails scored his shoulders as she yelled at him to “go harder” and “faster,” even when neither was possible.

One hard touch to her clit sent her over a third time, and he gave in and took the leap with her.

His hips jerked as come erupted, filling her. They held there, him above her, the two of them breathing heavily, their bodies slick with sweat as they tried to recover.

He dropped next to her, aware neither of them would be able to sleep in their current states. The room felt like it was the temperature of a sauna, thanks to their exertions.

“Shower?” she asked.

“Sounds perfect. I’m a sweaty mess.”

They walked naked to the bathroom, Asher wondering if he could convince her to move to a nudist colony with him. Her body was too beautiful to hide beneath clothing.

Together, they took the world’s steamiest shower, something that had very little to do with the lukewarm temperature of the water and everything to do with Fiona dropping to her knees and taking his cock in her mouth. So much for cooling off.

As they took turns drying each other, Asher realized there was still one thing left to say. “You asked me the other night about the advice your Pop Pop and uncle had given me, remember?”

She nodded, wrapping the towel around herself. “I forgot about that. So much has happened since then.”

“I know. I still haven’t taken their advice.”

“What is it?”

“To tell you this.” He reached for her, pulling her into his arms and kissing her with all the love he felt in his heart. Fiona’s arms were around his neck in an instant.

When they parted, he placed his hands on her cheeks and held her gaze. “I love you, Fiona Adams. So much it hurts. There’s nothing I wouldn’t give you, wouldn’t do for you. Except—”

“Share,” she whispered.

He closed his eyes and sighed. “You’re mine.”

“I want you. Just you. Only you.”

She said it three times, three different ways, and Asher let the words soak in deep.

“It’s always been you for me,” she admitted. “I’m not sure why it took me so long to realize. I guess we just had to get through those Brock and Christina years, right?”

“So much wasted time,” he murmured as she laughed.

“Thought we were calling it experience?”

He shook his head. “Five fucking years. Wasted.”

She reached for him again the same time his arms opened for her. Fiona was the first to pull away, and it was clear there was something else on her mind. He started to point to the bedroom, issuing one of those deep-voiced commands that never seemed to fail to get her engine revving.

Asher was glad he let her speak first, because he was obviously thinking with his dick while she was thinking with her heart.

“You really love me?”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re not actually questioning that, are you?”

She shook her head. “No. It’s just nice to hear…without having to prompt, you know?”

He did. Brock didn’t offer the words freely. He waited until she asked for them, until she said enough is enough, and then he made a big fucking show of it, something worthy of bragging about to his rich friends.

What Asher didn’t tell Fiona was, he’d never said those three little words before. Not even to Christina.

Fiona said it had always been him. Well, the same was true for her. He’d fallen for her at eighteen, and he didn’t doubt he’d still be this deep in love with her at eighty.

“I’m not sure love feels like a strong enough word,” he whispered.

Fiona wasn’t a crier. Not really. He’d seen her tears a handful of times, and most of those were prompted by equal parts sadness and anger.

These were real and genuine and beautiful.

“I didn’t think this much emotion was possible.” Fiona swiped at her eyes, obviously embarrassed.

He tugged her hand away, then pressed his forehead to hers. He closed his eyes a split second after her and the two of them just stood there, heads pressed together, soaking in the joy of being in love, of being together.

“Can we go to bed again?” she asked, letting her towel drop to the floor.

Asher didn’t reply as he took a long, appreciative look at her. Then, he bent down and picked her up.

She squealed, then laughed as he carried her back into the bedroom. “How very Rhett Butler of you.”

He ruined—or improved—the effect when he tossed her onto the bed. She’d only bounced once before he was there, climbing over her, kissing her. They were already naked, but for the first time, he noticed Fiona wasn’t in a mad dash for the finish line.

They kissed for weeks.

Then they took a hundred years to touch.

And then they made love forever.

When the sun peeked through the blinds, they finally rested, both lying on their sides, facing each other, holding hands.

“It’s crazy how long it took us to open our eyes and see this. I mean,” she said, “we’ve been right in front of each other all along. And the same goes for Teddy and Owen—how could they not see they were perfect for each other too? All of us were blind fools.”

“Or April fools?” he asked as he gave her a playful wink.

“Well, no more,” she said, in that authoritative, nothing-can-stop-her, self-assured Fiona tone. “From now on, it’s you and me, Teddy and Owen—”

“Happy Clam, a trio of lightsabers, California sunshine, Wild Winters.”

“Tequila and cotton candy.”

He rolled his eyes, even as he said, “A whole lifetime of Anything Goes.”

“Starting now,” she said with a giggle, as she pushed him to his back and climbed on top.