Page 45 of Forbidden Mischief
Now, I sleep in his bed every night, wrapped up in him like he’s the only thing keeping me breathing.
Every night, his arms curl around me, tight and possessive, like he can’t bear to let me go. But that’s all he does—holds me.
No kissing. No touching. No talking about what happened.
I know he’s thinking about it, though—I can feel it. The hesitation in the way his fingers trace my skin when he thinks I’m asleep, the way his breath hitches when I shift too close. He’s worried. That him knotting me, marking me, was too much.
But it wasn’t.
I loved it.
Once again, he proved every other partner I’ve had was fucking trash.
I want him—in every way.
To live in my ass.
To knot me nice and slow, taking his time, claiming me the way we both know he needs to.
I want to know if I can fuck him.
But he won’t talk about it. Won’t let himself have me again.
And I’m done waiting.
He thinks I can’t handle him.
Like I wasn’t made to take him.
I hate it. The space he’s put between us. The way he’s pulling away when all I want to do is get closer.
So now I’m here, at this stupid bonfire, watching him from across the flames, stewing in my own frustration.
And then I seeher.
She’s got her hands all over him. Laughing, flipping her hair, touching him like she’s got a chance.
My stomach turns to stone.
My Magic snaps to life, sparking beneath my skin like a second heartbeat. Fingers curl into fists. Vision tunnels.
Mine.
I move.
It’s not a decision—it’s instinct. My body slices through the crowd, my blood pounding in my ears, the fire at my back turning my shadow into something long and wild.
When I reach them, I don’t stop.
I shove the girl away—not hard enough to knock her down, but enough. Enough to make it clear she doesn’t belong here, touchinghim.
She stumbles back, gasping. “What the hell?”
I don’t even look at her.
I grab Asher by the front of his hoodie, yanking him in before he can so much as breathe. His eyes go wide just before my mouth crashes into his.
He stiffens for half a second—shocked—but then his hands are on me, gripping my waist, pulling me closer, like the tension between us has finally snapped, like he’s been holding back just as much as I have.
