Page 78 of Shadowed Hearts: Frost
I push at his chest, needing space.
The moment my hands connect with his chest, something changes in Asher's eyes. Raw and claiming, like a predator marking territory. His hand snaps up, wrapping around both my wrists in a grip that's firm but controlled.
In one smooth motion, he pins my hands above my head against the wall. His body still doesn't touch mine, but I can feel the heat radiating from him, smell the mint and sandalwood of his skin, count the seconds in the pulse visible at his throat.
"You want this." His voice is rough, certain. "Stop me if you can."
My breath comes in short gasps. The challenge in his eyes fires up my blood, rebellion and want tangled so tightly inside me they become one feeling I can't pull apart. I should tell him to back off, to release my hands, to stop acting like he owns me.
But I don't.
I remain silent, watching his pupils dilate as he registers my choice.
"Mine."
The single word holds more power than any lengthy declaration.
Asher closes the last distance between us, his mouth claiming mine in a bruising kiss that steals my breath. His body presses against me, hard muscle pinning me to the wall as his free hand grips my hip. The constant buzz in my head—the endless calculations, connections, patterns—quiets to a single circuit: Asher plus me equals yes.
"Christ."
The curse breaks from him as I bite his lower lip, and satisfaction rushes through me at cracking his control.
His mouth moves to my neck, teeth scraping sensitive skin.
"You have no idea what you do to me." His voice is rougher now, less controlled than his usual clipped delivery.
"I'm getting a pretty good idea."
I gasp when his teeth find the junction where my neck meets my shoulder, biting down hard enough that I know he's leaving a mark.
He growls against my throat, his breath hot and uneven. Sweat beads along his hairline despite the cool room, and when he lifts his head to look at me, his usual perfect composure shows hairline cracks.
"Your body knows what it needs."
His hand slides up to cup my throat, thumb tracing my pulse point. "This is about you, about what I can do to you, not what I get from you."
The admission sends liquid heat pooling between my thighs. My heart skips as his eyes track the reaction he can undoubtedly feel beneath his fingers.
This is new.
No one has ever made it about just me.The thought skitters across my brain before his touch scatters it completely.
"Prove it." The challenge slips out before I can stop it, and his pupils blow wide.
"Dangerous words, little bunny."
His pet name for me comes out as a possessive rumble, and something in my chest tightens at hearing it in this context.
He releases my throat, his hand moving to the hem of my shirt. In one swift motion, he yanks it over my head, my arms briefly freed before he pins them back against the wall. The cool air hits my skin, raising goosebumps that have nothing to do with the temperature.
"Look at you." His gaze travels over my exposed skin like he's mapping territory, noting every detail with sniper focus.
"Perfect. And mine."
His mouth descends, teeth closing around my collarbone with exactly the right pressure. I cry out, the sound echoing off his walls, and heat spreads through my chest at his satisfied expression.
"Asher."
