Page 141 of Ashen Souls

“You didn’t text,” I whispered, sounding exactly like a girl who had spent the last few hours staring at a blank screen.

“I couldn’t,” he said, his voice rough. He took another step, erasing the distance between us. “I’ve done nothing but think about you since you left. I wrote twenty different messages, Aveline. And I deleted all of them. None of them were appropriate, and none of them were what I actually wanted to say. I didn’t want to be just a notification on your phone. I wanted to be here.”

I reached out, my fingers brushing the cold, damp lapel of his coat.

“I needed to know,” he murmured, his gaze dropping to my mouth before snapping back to my eyes, “if what happened in that hall was just me losing my mind. If I’d imagined the way you looked at me.”

“You didn't,” I breathed.

He closed his eyes, exhaling a ragged breath.

When he opened them, he didn't ask for permission, and he didn't give me time to breathe. His hands locked onto my hips, pulling me hard against his wet coat as he backed me up until my shoulders hit the wall beside the door. His mouth crashed into mine, reckless and demanding.

When he pulled back, it was only by a few inches. His breathing was shallow, his forehead resting against mine.

“I spent the entire drive over here telling myself I was just going to talk to you. That I was going to apologize and leave.”

His grip on my waist tightened.

“Tell me to leave, Aveline. Because if you don't, I won't be able to stop.”

“Don't leave,” I breathed. “Please, Ethan. Don’t stop.”

The second the words left my mouth, the last thread of my own control snapped. My hands were already moving, sliding under his coat, pushing it off his shoulders.

As I stepped fully into his space, I breathed him in. There was no cologne masking him. It was the scent of his skin: warm, clean, and completely his own.

The top buttons were already undone. I kissed the exposed skin at the base of his throat, and a low, rough sound vibrated against my lips right before his mouth smothered mine, heavier this time.

His hands found the hem of my T-shirt, his palms sliding up my bare stomach.

A harsh exhale broke the kiss as his mouth found the line of my neck. Ethan pressed his lips against my pulse, his teeth grazing the tendon, making me arch into him. I tipped my head back, my fingers digging blindly into his back. The moment his thumbs grazed the underside of my breasts, my knees gave out.

“Ethan,” I choked out.

“You have no idea,” he murmured, his voice wrecked. “How many times I’ve stood at that lectern, watching you sit in that back row, and tried not to think about doing exactly this.”

He gripped my thighs, lifting me. I wrapped my legs around his waist, holding onto his shoulders as he carried me toward the bedroom. We didn't make it to the bed. He set me down on the edge of the dresser, reaching for the hem of my shirt.

I lifted my arms, letting him pull it over my head and toss it carelessly onto the floor.

He stepped back just enough to look at me in the dim light. His eyes dropped to my chest, and the undisguised hunger in his face hit me, making my stomach clench.

Wasting no more time, he stepped right between my knees, pressing my bare skin against the rough cotton of his half-buttoned shirt. When he lowered his head, his open mouth finding the swell of my breast, a moan escaped me. I grabbed his neck, pulling him even closer.

There was no hiding now how much he wanted this. I could feel how hard he was, pressing against my thigh.

“You’re wearing too much,” I managed to say, my hands fumbling with the rest of the buttons on his shirt. He didn't bother with patience, ripping the last two open himself. I slid my hands under, pushing it down his arms. I splayed my fingers across his bare chest, feeling the beat of his heart.

He stepped back just an inch, enough to catch the waistband of my shorts. He dragged them down my hips, and I kicked them away. His hand slid between my thighs, his fingers brushing right over my clit, and my hips jerked forward. The moment his fingers found how slick and ready I was, he drew a harsh breath through his teeth, dropping his forehead against my shoulder. “Christ, Aveline. Do you know what it does to me, knowing you want this as much as I do?”

He stroked me, his thumb finding the exact spot I needed, applying a steady, rhythmic pressure that made my toes curl. He watched my face the entire time, tracking every reaction he pulled from me.

“I want to taste you, Miss Hart.”

He hooked his arms under my thighs, lifting me clean off the dresser. I held onto his shoulders as he covered the short distance to the bed, following me down onto the mattress. He parted my legs over the edge, settling himself between my knees.

He paused, sliding his warm hands slowly up my calves until they rested on my thighs as he took in the sight of my bare skin. I thought I would feel vulnerable, being completely naked in front of him for the first time. Instead, under the dark, absolute certainty of his gaze, the urge to hide vanished.