Chapter 17 #3
His tongue sweeps over his lower lip.
“Mine.”
He kisses me again.
“Yours.” I’m too wrapped up in him to pretend otherwise. My body is already shaking, but he takes what I give him and demands more, keeping me open beneath him.
“And I’m fucking yours.”
His hips roll forward in one slow, relentless grind, and the words burn through me worse than the pressure. He holds me there until I feel branded by him—by the weight of him, the heat of him, the certainty in his voice.
I need this.
The ache. The soreness. The reminder of his hands and his mouth and the way he looks at me every time he claims me.
“Don’t ever question that shit again.”
My body answers before I can. I clench around him, dragging a ragged sound from somewhere deep and primitive. He licks it from my lips, smiling against my mouth. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me.
Every nerve in me detonates.
My legs shake, sweat slicking my skin. I lose the ability to do anything except hold on, but he doesn’t let me escape the aftershocks. He keeps moving through them, slower, dragging me down from the edge one devastating tremor at a time.
His rhythm snaps.
He buries his face against my neck and shudders, the sound rumbling over my sternum. He comes apart completely. Grip tight, weight heavy, and breath ragged against my skin.
He stays there until the violence leaves his body.
When he finally slows, it drags a hiss from both of us, before he finally collapses beside me. We breathe in synch, both silent.
His skin burns wherever it touches mine. My body aches with the aftermath, every muscle loose and trembling, every thought fuzzy beneath the weight of him.
He still hasn’t answered my question.
I still have a hundred more.
I turn toward him, but his arm catches me before I can get far, hauling me close.
His lips skim my cheek. “Stop being a brat.”
Gripping my chin, he tilts my face up to his. “Stop.”
He kisses me with slow, lazy strokes, turning his head until his tongue finds mine.
I break first, lips wet and swollen. “I think I know.”
He smiles. I want to punch him.
“You do.” He searches my face. “So trust me.”
He’s making everything more complicated than it needs to be. Does he know Emeric has eyes and ears everywhere?
I crawl to the side, snatching his shirt and shoving it over my head before my feet hit the floor. So we have great sex and are borderline obsessed with each other. None of our issues are resolved. We’re in the same place we were an hour ago.
Snow falls from the sky, blanketing the ramps in the backyard. I’m so lost in the beauty of it that words leave my mouth before I can catch them. “I don’t know what part of you I should believe and what part I shouldn’t.”
He’s silent. I’m not mad about that. We could probably do with the silence since we’re dangerously close to the border of no return.
Asher’s voice drops. “Venom.”
My eyes close as the shudder of his tone rolls through me. I turn over my shoulder to find him leaning up on his elbow, abs rippling with every movement.
He holds my gaze, steady across the dim space between us.
“Believe the part where I fell in love with you when I shouldn’t have.” He tilts his head. “The part where you shot me but missed.”
Air leaves my lungs.
“The part where you never miss,” he adds.
The truth of what I’m about to say swells in my throat.
“Exactly,” I say softly, relief flooding through me. “I never miss.”
It’s the first time I’ve admitted it out loud. That I purposely veered to the right when I pulled the trigger. That I purposely didn’t deliver a kill shot.
Fingers braid with mine, and he pulls me back down beside him. He places a finger under my chin, looking between my lips and eyes.
“I won’t touch her again,” he says, and I go to turn away but his hold on my chin tightens, keeping me in place. “I won’t touch her again.”
An ache spreads through my body. Everything fucking hurts. “I hate you.”
His jaw flexes. “No, you don’t. And you hate that, because you know people are going to get hurt.”
Frustration wraps its ugly noose around my neck and I let out an exasperated growl. “So let them!” I feel zero guilt over how much I’ve risked just to finally have him for myself.
His expression hardens, splitting the conversation in half.
“You, Ivanya. You are the one who will get hurt.” A dark, sarcastic laugh slips from him. “Fuck, you really think I care about anyone else but you? If it weren’t your life on the line, I’d risk it. But I will not fucking risk you.”
Silence.
I try to absorb the words I didn’t know I craved, fall short, and sigh. “Asher, I kill people for a living. I’ve lived in danger all my life. You can’t protect me.”
This time, his chuckle stays in his chest. “I can and I will.”
I let him think what he needs because none of it matters.
Rolling onto my stomach, I rest my chin on his chest and trace his tattoos. “I’ve always thought this one reminded me of poison ivy.”
There’s no way. Asher had this tattoo way before I met him.
“Mmm…” he muses, the corner of his lip twitching. “isn’t that… strange.”