Page 46 of Forbidden Mischief
I kiss him hard, all teeth and claiming, because I’m done letting him pretend we’re anything less than this.
The bonfire falls into a stunned silence.
Someone whistles. Then another. Then the entire place erupts.
Prunes is screeching, jumping up and down. “Holy shit! That’s right!”
Laughter. Cheers. Hoots from our team.
I don’t give a damn.
I step up onto a log, towering over everyone, my chest heaving, my lips tingling from kissing him.
“Listen up, Sugar River!” My voice rings out, loud and absolute. “Asher is mine. He’s off-limits. Don’t fucking touch him.”
The crowd loses it.
The team is laughing, hyping me up. Someone howls. Someone else shouts, “Zayne’s gone feral!”
I don’t care.
I jump back down, landing in front of Asher. He’s staring at me like he doesn’t know what to do with me. Like he wants to be mad but can’t be.
I grab his wrist, dragging him away from the fire, away from the noise.
“Zayne—”
I spin around the second we’re out of earshot, pressing him against a tree. “Why are you acting like you broke me?”
His throat bobs. “I?—”
“You didn’t.” My voice drops, rough with everything I’ve been feeling. “I can handle you. I want you.” I drag my fingers over his stomach, feeling the tension thrumming beneath his skin. “You think I regret it? That I didn’t like you knotting me?”
His eyes flash, pupils blown wide. His breath comes out sharp. “Zayne?—”
I press in closer, chest to chest. “You don’t get to pull away.” My voice is almost a growl, my magic curling around us like static in the air. “You’re mine, Asher. I’m yours. You don’t get to act like that night didn’t change everything.”
His breath hitches. His fingers twitch like he wants to grab me, wants to take me.
I lean in, mouth brushing his jaw. “So stop acting like you hurt me.” My teeth scrape lightly over his skin, and I feel the way he shudders. “And next time?” My lips curve. “Don’t hold back.”
His restraint snaps.
His hands fist in my hoodie, and then his mouth is on mine again—hot, rough, claiming me back.
Asher’s fingers curl into my hoodie, trying to hold on—but to what? His control? The lie that he can keep his hands off me?
I don’t give him the chance to decide.
I tilt my head, deepening the kiss, pouring everything into it. Need. Frustration. Love—because that’s what this is. It’s not just wanting Asher. It’s loving him. Every grumpy, brooding, stupidly self-sacrificing part of him.
The air around us crackles, my magic thrumming under my skin, a low hum of energy that rises with every second I spend touching him. I feel it build, pressing outward, seeking him, like it can’t help but reach for him.
His lips part on a gasp, and I take it—take him—shoving my hands under his hoodie, finding the heat of his skin.
Electricity zips between us, tiny sparks jumping from my fingertips to his ribs, skimming over his spine. His entire body shudders, and I feel the way he reacts to it, the way my magic winds through him, sinking into his bones.
He growls, low, but he doesn’t push me away.
