Chased - A Titan Novella (Titan (Novella)) by Cristin Harber Page A

covered her body with his. His shaft touched her center, making him shiver. Jenny laid her hands on his shoulders. Each half-moon of her fingernails bit into his flesh. The scrapes and scratches surprised him and felt awesome. He hoped they’d leave marks and flexed his hips, pressing smoothly into her wet heat and hoping she’d claw him again.
    Her muscles clenched as he impaled her. “God, yes, Ash.”
    Hunger surged, and he was losing himself in her. His thighs spread hers, and he worked deeper and deeper, feeling her fall open for him. They hit a sinful rhythm, and his name fell from her lips again. It was pure music. Almost lyrical.
    Desperation and a fierce, barbaric, primal appetite controlled his body. He kissed her. Hard. Licking and biting and absorbing her essence. Just as hard as she kissed him back. Their mouths dueled. He wrapped an arm around her neck, and her heels crawled up his thighs, locking over his backside. He drove into her, and she embraced it, demanding more.
    Goddamn, he was going to come. The release burned close. It made him blind. Made him crazy. Made him so sure he could love—
    “Asher,” she screamed his name. Moaned again. Her head hung back. “I need—”
    She shuddered and froze, tightening in his arms. Her legs clamped against his back, and Jenny bucked. Her pussy rode his shaft, pulsing and throbbing at the intense demand of her climax.
    He gave up his barrier, everything he’d been holding back. His mind was frenzied. His lust unbridled.
    “Sweetheart,” tore from his lungs, burned into the air. He pumped through the torrid peak, shattering in her arms, and collapsed against her.
    Jenny wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her. Her clenching sweetness still convulsed, and he gasped for breath.
    Asher pressed his lips to hers. Not a kiss. The lip press was nothing more than needing to be connected in every conceivable way. He could fall asleep like this. Holding his heaven.
    They floated down together into silence. Finally, he could catch his breath, and the blood rushing in his ears slowed. She didn’t stir even as the boa’s feathers shimmied. Her eyes stayed shut, but he didn’t think she was asleep. What was going through her mind? Hell, what was going through his?

CHAPTER SIX
     
    The unfamiliar bed might have coaxed Asher awake, but the warm woman curled naked against him was like a shot of high-octane espresso. He gathered her into his arms. “Morning, sweetheart.”
    He wasn’t one for morning-after chitchat. But it seemed his standard operating procedures had officially become a joke. Nothing he did or said to Jenny was his norm. Nothing inside his chest felt normal either. It was tight, but he felt… fulfilled. Odd since he’d been driving for that feeling with every career move and election. The answer had been in front of him the whole time.
    “I’m not a morning person,” Jenny mumbled and burrowed against his side.
    He reached to the nightstand and checked his watch. Seven in the morning. Getting a late start.
    When was the last time he had slept in? He couldn’t recall. A campaign conference call was in thirty minutes, but that could be done from bed. Mostly he listened while his re-election team discussed the campaign stops, polling, and focus groups.
    If something interested him, he would pipe up. But the logistics of campaign work numbed his mind. Let him do his day job, then he’d be happy. But that’s not how elections were won. There were fundraisers to attend, commercials to shoot, messaging to try.
    Just thinking about the call bored him, but he had to get up and figure out what he should do about clothes. Didn’t plan this very well, McIntyre. His suit and shirt were strewn across the room. Wrinkles weren’t a good look for a man hounded and photographed on the campaign trail.
    He grabbed his phone and touched the screen. Too many e-mails and text messages to count. Shit. He’d forgotten that Murphy was e-mailing over