Page 81 of Shadowed Hearts: Frost
My protest dies as his teeth scrape a particularly sensitive spot, followed immediately by the soothing heat of his tongue.
"You taste like sin." His words are muffled against my skin, voice rougher than I've ever heard it. "Like everything I've ever wanted and shouldn't have."
The admission cracks something open inside my chest. This level of honesty from him, this raw need, breaks down my defenses faster than any physical claim could.
He wants me. Not just my body—me.
"Then take it." The words slip out before I can stop them, and his grip tightens almost painfully.
"Take what?"
"Everything you want."
I meet his gaze when he pulls back to look at me, seeing the war between control and need playing out behind his dark eyes.
"Everything you shouldn't have."
Something snaps in his expression. His mouth crashes down on mine again, this kiss bruising and possessive, all pretense ofgentleness abandoned. He releases my hair, both arms wrapping around me again as he lifts me higher, pinning me more completely against the wall with his body.
"You don't know what you're asking for."
His voice carries a warning, but his actions contradict it.
"I'm asking for you."
The simple truth hits him. I can see it in the way his pupils dilate further, the way his breathing becomes even more ragged.
"All of you, Asher. The control, the possession, the parts you think I can't handle."
"Shit."
The curse breaks from him like a prayer, and suddenly his hands are everywhere. Tangling in my hair, tracing the marks he's left on my shoulders, sliding down to hook my legs around his waist.
The new position has me completely open for him, fully at his mercy, and it sends another wave of heat through my already sensitized body.
I'm completely at his mercy and I've never felt safer.
"This time, you let me control everything."
His words are a command and a promise rolled into one, and I nod without hesitation.
"You take what I give you, the way I give it to you."
True to his word, when his fingers find me again, the touch is deliberately lighter, more controlled. Where before he'd worked me efficiently toward release, now he takes his time, building the tension incrementally like he's adjusting for a long-distance shot.
He's going to kill me. Death by sniper orgasm.
"Please."
The word slips out when he brings me right to the edge only to pull back, leaving me gasping and needy.
"Please what?"
His voice carries that same controlled calm, but I can see the strain in his features, the sweat beading at his temples despite the cool room.
"You know what."
"You want me to make you come again."
