Page 89 of Veil of Ashes

He never does when I touch him like that.

“You remember what today is?” I ask.

He smirks. “How could I forget? You looked at me like you wanted to kill me.”

“I did.”

“And I think I fell in love right then.”

My mouth quirks. “You have a very specific taste in women.”

“I have exactly one.”

I pull him the last inch forward and kiss him.

At first, it’s all teeth and heat—teasing, playful, lips brushing, biting, the sound of a low laugh trapped in my throat. His hands slide to my waist, fingertips tracing the curve of my hips like he’s memorizing them for the thousandth time.

But then the kiss deepens.

His breath catches.

Mine folds into his.

And just like that, the laughter turns into something slower. Thicker. Hungrier.

I used to think passion meant destruction.

But this… this is creation.

My back presses harder against the wall. He crowds into me, one hand finding the small of my back, the other cupping the side of my face like I might vanish if he blinks. My fingers curl into his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer.

I tilt my head, open my mouth to him.

He kisses me like the world was rebuilt just so this moment could exist.

Like every fight, every scar, every betrayal was worth it if this is where it led.

His hand slips under my tank top, palm skimming over bare skin, warm and sure. I lean into it, a quiet hum slipping from my throat. My fingers drift down his chest, over fabric and muscle, until I reach the line of his belt.

He sucks in a breath against my mouth.

“Here?” he murmurs, voice gone rough.

I smile against his lips. “No one comes back here but us.”

He kisses me again, deeper now, and I taste the last of the sunlight in his mouth.

My shirt is up around my ribs, his hands under it, fingertips ghosting over every inch of skin like he’s painting me with pressure. I reach between us, unbuttoning his jeans, my knuckles brushing the heat of him through the fabric.

His lips drop to my neck.

He breathes in like I’m the only air he wants.

My head falls back against the wall, and I feel his teeth graze my collarbone—just enough to light that fire low in my belly, the one that’s only ever been his to strike.

His hands slide down, over my hips, beneath the waistband of my shorts.

And when his fingers find me, I gasp.

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