Page 57 of Asher
He sighed but didn’t argue, his body relaxing under my touch. “You’re annoyingly stubborn, you know that?”
“Coming from you, I’ll take that as a compliment.”
I met his gaze, the firelight reflecting in his eyes. The moment stretched between us, heavy with unspoken things.
When I leaned closer, he didn’t pull away. My hand brushed against his, a subtle, deliberate touch.
“Gael…”
I silenced him with a shake of my head. “Just let me.”
I pressed my lips to his neck, my fangs grazing his skin. He tensed but didn’t move, his pulse quickening beneath my touch.
“Trust me,” I murmured.
“I do,” he whispered.
His blood was warm, rich, and laced with something that made my head swim. Eventually, I pulled back before I took too much, my gaze locking with his.
“Thank you,” I said softly.
He reached for me, his hand curling around the back of my neck, pulling me closer. The kiss was slow, deliberate, and filled with everything we couldn’t put into words.
It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t about hunger or need.
Asher’s lips moved against mine with a quiet intensity, each brush telling a story neither of us dared to speak aloud.
It was an apology, a promise, a confession.
A silent acknowledgment of everything we had been through and everything that still lay ahead.
This was enough, I thought to myself, as my hands found their way to his face, my fingers brushing along the sharp line of his jaw.
The world outside, the danger, the uncertainty, the weight of everything we couldn’t control, faded into the background.
Right here, in this stolen moment, it didn’t matter.
Nothing mattered except the warmth of his lips against mine, the steady pressure grounding me in a way I hadn’t felt in years.
His hands slid to my waist, pulling me closer, and I felt his hesitation. Like he was afraid this would all shatter if he moved too quickly.
But I leaned into him, meeting his unspoken fear with quiet reassurance.
It wasn’t just a kiss; it was trust, fragile and precious, passed between us like the rarest of gifts.
This moment here was perfect.
The cabin’s worn walls melted away, the forest outside becoming a silent witness to something that felt timeless.
The kiss deepened, not with urgency but with care, as if we were learning each other in a language we had only just discovered.
The scrape of his teeth against my lower lip sent a shiver of anticipation down my spine.
When we finally pulled back, it wasn’t far. Our foreheads rested together. His eyes searched mine, vulnerability flickering there.
“I needed this,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “You have no idea.”
I smiled, a small, genuine thing that I wasn’t sure I remembered how to give anymore. “I think I do.”
