Chapter Thirty-Seven #2
My hands fist lightly in the fabric of his shirt, grounding myself in him. “I’m scared.”
“I know.” His voice softens even further. “Let me take your mind off it.”
I lift my head, and we’re suddenly too close—his face inches from mine, eyes searching mine with something unguarded, something I’ve tried very hard not to name.
Heat spikes beneath my skin—not from the power inside me, but from him.
“Ryder…” I whisper, unsure if it’s a warning or a plea.
His gaze drops to my lips for the briefest, betraying second.
The air between us changes—thickens, sweetens, draws tight like a held breath.
Then he speaks, voice rough:
“Asha… tell me not to, and I won’t.”
He’s giving me an out.
But he’s also asking.
And Gods help me, the last thing I want is distance. Maybe it’s desperation, maybe it’s the fear of what comes next. Perhaps this is the last night I’ll spend with the man I love. It’s been so long since I felt him—since our bodies fit together in that familiar, aching harmony.
I seize him by the vest and pull him toward me, pressing my lips to his.
He answers at once, his kiss deep and commanding, taking full control.
He kisses me like he’s hungry—starving—as though he’s been deprived for days.
I meet him with the same need, the same urgency, as if he’s the only salvation I have left.
He pulls back just enough for a half-smirk to curve his lips.
“Let me take some of that weight off your shoulders.”
His mouth finds my neck, warm and deliberate, before trailing slowly downward.
He tugs the neckline of my vest aside, revealing my bra, and cups my breasts with steady hands.
The new energy coursing through me surges toward his touch, curling around his fingertips, awakening what feels like millions of nerve endings.
A soft moan escapes me, my head tipping back into the pillow as heat blooms beneath my skin.
He continues his descent, stopping at the hem of my leggings. My breath stutters, anticipation turning my pulse unsteady.
“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to taste you.” He growls, a devious smirk painted on his wet lips.
He breathes me in as though the very air around me is what keeps him alive.
With effortless strength, he lifts me just enough to slide my leggings down, easing them off my legs.
His fingers skim the lace of my underwear, slow and deliberate, a touch that sends a shiver down my spine.
He draws them away and settles between my thighs, his closeness radiating heat.
The first brush of his mouth against my skin steals my breath.
Sensation blooms through me—intense, consuming—my body arching instinctively toward him.
His hands steady my hips, holding me in place as I clutch the sheets, trying to anchor myself against the rising tide inside me.
His tongue strokes back and forth, and the bundle of nerves between my thighs begins to unravel.
My teeth sink into my bottom lip as my hands tighten around the sheets.
The sensation of each stroke stimulates every nerve end, like tiny fireworks going off inside me.
My stomach swirls with desire as he slides a finger inside me, deep and slow. I gasp, my breath quickening in pleasure.
Every movement, every lick, sparks something electric beneath my skin. After weeks apart, the simple fact of having him here, touching me, wanting me, drives me right to the edge. The distance between us has only sharpened everything, turned every feeling molten and overwhelming.
His touch becomes more purposeful, more knowing, as if he can feel every shift in my breath.
He focuses on my sensitive spots, stroking over and over.
Heat coils low in my stomach, tightening with every slow, deliberate movement.
I throw my head back, a sound slipping from me before he covers my mouth gently, drawing me further into the moment, holding me close as if he’s afraid I’ll dissolve beneath him.
I writhe, but he holds me tighter, sucking and swirling his tongue on me.
His dark eyes meet mine, aware of their undoing, and something inside me unravels further. The world blurs at the edges, my thoughts scattering like sparks. He murmurs against my skin, “It’s okay… let go,” the words a warm breath that seems to sink directly into my chest.
And I do.
The tension snaps, a wave crashing through me—hot, blinding, overwhelming. My body trembles as the sensation rolls through me in fierce, shuddering pulses. His arms anchor me, steady even as everything inside me breaks open, warmth and relief and aching joy flooding every inch of me.
By the time the world comes back into focus, I’m left breathless beneath him, my pulse still racing, my body still humming with the echo of him.
He takes his time, slurping up all my juices, relishing in the way he makes my body shake and then pulls away, settling beside me, his breath still unsteady as he lies down on the pillow. For a moment, neither of us moves. The air between us feels warm, charged, soft in the aftermath.
He turns his head, letting his gaze roam slowly over me, lingering as though memorising every inch. When his eyes finally meet mine, something gentle flickers there—something that melts straight through me.
“Gods,” he murmurs, voice low and sincere.
“You’re beautiful.” Then his gaze flickers with a dangerous promise.
“When you destroy the Siphon… and I know you will,” he whispers in my ear, a vow that tickles my spine.
“I am going to fuck you again and again and again… until my name is the only thing screamed on your lips.”
“It’s nice to see you’re back to your old self.” I breathe, a small smile tugging at my lips.
It seems that after the Hollow tried so hard to break us apart, it only exposed the seam that stitched us back together.