Page 83 of Ashen Souls
My hands found his chest. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, allowing my fingertips to graze the exposed skin at the base of his neck. He drew in a sharp breath at the direct contact, his fingers sinking deeper into my hips.
We weren't really dancing. There was no room for it. We were just swaying, pressed into the corner, surrounded by a hundred oblivious, sweating students.
“Aveline.”
“What?” I asked, looking up at him.
“You look… beautiful.” He stopped. His eyes scoured my face.
“I’ve never seen you like this before.”
“Like what?”
“Unhidden.” His thumbs traced a slow arc just above my hipbones. “Like you’re finally not holding yourself back.”
“That might be the vodka,” I whispered.
A faint smile touched his lips. “Maybe. But I don’t think so.”
The music swelled. Someone stumbled past, knocking into my back. Before I could lose my balance, Ethan’s grip tightened, anchoring me against his chest. I could feel his heart drumming an erratic rhythm.
“I’m glad you didn’t leave,” I breathed, my mouth so close to his throat that I could feel the warmth of his skin.
“So am I,” he replied. “Even if I’m already mourning the moment this song ends.”
He looked down at my lips. The restraint in his eyes fractured, giving way to something hungry.
Around us, the party screamed and drank and vibrated. But trapped between the wall and Ethan Hale, all I could hear was the rush of my own blood.
Then…
The bass of a new track slammed through the speakers.
Laughter erupted nearby. Someone whooped. The chaotic reality of the dorm party rushed back in.
Ethan’s hands withdrew so abruptly my fingers slipped off his shoulders. The sudden loss of his support left me swaying, cold air rushing between us as my body tried to recalibrate.
I let my arms drop, my palms still tingling from the contact with his body.
“Well.” I forced a lightness into my voice. “That was… short-lived.”
He exhaled a harsh breath, his hands dropping to his sides and clenching into white-knuckled fists.
“This is wrong.” His voice lost that low, intimate vibration, snapping back into the clipped tone he used during Monday morning lectures. “I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be holding you like this. I shouldn’t want…”
“Want what?” I challenged, stepping half an inch forward.
Ethan’s eyes darted to my mouth one last, agonizing time. The muscles in his throat worked as he choked back whatever word he was about to say.
“I need to go.”
The remaining alcohol in my system bypassed my filter entirely. I was so goddamn tired of being pulled in opposite directions. Tired of being told, explicitly or otherwise, that my desires were a complication.
“Then go.”
He stiffened. “Aveline…”
“No. Let me finish.”
