Page 106 of Ashes to Ashes

I increase the pressure, the rhythm, watching her face as pleasure builds. She’s close—I can feel it in the way her body tenses, the way her breathing becomes erratic.

“That’s it,” I encourage, my voice rough with desire. “Let go for me.”

She shatters with a cry that I muffle with my mouth, her body convulsing against mine as waves of pleasure crash over her. I hold her through it, my fingers gentling, my lips pressing soft kisses to her face as she comes down.

“My turn,” she whispers when she can speak again, her hands already working at my belt.

But reality crashes back like a bucket of ice water.

Crystalline formations in the walls pulse brighter now—recording everything. The magical thread between us blazes like a beacon, visible to anyone with court sight. The political implications multiply with each heartbeat.

“Wait,” I breathe, catching her hands despite every instinct screaming to let her continue. “We should... we need to slow down.”

Her eyes are dark with desire and confusion. “Why?”

“Because you deserve much better than this,” I whisper, even as every cell in my body screams in protest. “Better than a desperate encounter against a wall while Academy surveillance records every touch. You deserve to be worshipped properly.”

She studies my face, reading the war between desire and restraint written there. Slowly, she nods.

“You’re right,” she whispers. “But this isn’t over.”

“No,” I agree, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. “This is definitely not over.”

I retrieve her towel, wrapping it around her gently, my fingers lingering on her skin longer than necessary.

“Perhaps I should allow you to dress,” I murmur, though every instinct screams to stay, to finish what we started.

“Should.” She smiles, and it’s pure temptation. “But what do you want to do?”

“I want to remain,” I admit roughly. “I want to strip that towel from you again and worship every inch of your skin. I want to make you mine in every way that matters.” I pull back to meet her eyes, letting her see the hunger still burning there. “But I also want to do this properly.”

Her breath catches, her pupils blown wide with desire. “Then stay. Help me do this right.”

How could I possibly refuse such a request?

The bedroom door closes softly behind her. She doesn’t lock it.

I settle back into the sitting room chair, my body still thrumming with need and the memory of her coming apart in my arms. The taste of her skin, the sounds she made, the way she felt against my fingers—it’s going to drive me insane.

But we did the right thing. We slowed down. We’re doing this properly.

Even if every cell in my body is screaming in protest.

Twenty minutes later, I hear her moving in the bedroom. The magical thread carries her restless energy, her own unsatisfied need that mirrors mine perfectly.

“Finnian?” Her voice is soft through the door.

“I’m here.”

“I can’t sleep. Will you... would you mind sitting with me?”

I find her curled on her side in the large bed, wearing a silk nightgown that the Academy provided. The fabric clings to her curves in ways that make my mouth go dry, outlining everything I just had my hands on. Her hair spreads across the pillow like dark silk.

“Here.” She pats the space beside her on top of the covers.

I settle carefully beside her, hyperaware of her presence, of the heat radiating from her body.

“I appreciate you.” She turns toward me, green eyes still dark with want in the moonlight. “For choosing me. For staying. For... earlier.”

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