Page 31 of Shadowed Hearts: Frost (Nightfall Syndicate #2)

The denim slides down my legs, and I step out of it automatically.

My bra follows next, his movements efficient but reverent as he removes each barrier between us.

Standing in only my underwear, pinned against his wall by a man whose control is fracturing because of me, I should feel vulnerable. But I feel powerful.

"What am I to you, then?" I meet his gaze directly, noting how his jaw tightens at my continued defiance.

"Mine to protect."

His hand cups my face with surprising gentleness, thumb tracing my cheekbone.

"Mine to care for."

The touch moves down, fingers skimming along my throat to rest over my racing pulse.

"Mine to pleasure."

His hand continues its path south, and when his fingers trace the edge of my underwear, my hips buck involuntarily toward the contact.

"Mine."

The final word comes out broken, and I realize his control isn't just cracking, it's completely compromised.

He needs this as much as I do. The thought fragments as his fingers slip beneath the lace.

"Asher."

His name is a plea I can't hold back, and something in his eyes goes wild at the sound.

His fingers find me already slick and ready. The contact has me gasping, my head falling back against the wall.

Oh fuck. He's going to destroy me.

"Soaked." The word comes out wondering, almost reverently. "All for me."

"Don't let it go to your head." I try for sarcasm, but it comes out breathless and weak.

"Too late."

His fingers move with devastating skill, finding exactly the right spot and pressure to turn my knees to water. When I sag against the wall, he adjusts his grip on my wrists with one hand, using his body to support my weight while his other hand works magic between my thighs.

This is what I've been missing.

The thought blazes through my mind as he finds a rhythm that has me climbing quickly toward the edge. His fingers move with the same attention he applies to everything else, each touch calculated for maximum impact.

He actually cares whether I come.

"That's it." His words are encouraging now, less commanding and more coaxing. "This is about what I can do to you, not what I get from you."

The gentle tone undoes something inside me more effectively than any demand could. This isn't just about possession or control, it's about him wanting to be the one to take care of me, to be the one I turn to for this. The realization hits me harder than his touch.

"Oh god."

The words tear from my throat as he finds a rhythm that sends me hurtling towards the edge.

"Not god." His mouth finds my ear, breath hot against sensitive skin. "Me. Only me."

The possessive growl, combined with another perfect stroke of his fingers, sends me flying over the edge. My orgasm crashes through me with devastating force, my body arching against the wall as far as his grip allows, a scream tearing from my throat that echoes off the walls of his house.

Holy shit. I've never come that hard in my life.

"Beautiful." His voice is rough with want as he watches me fall apart, his fingers gentling but not stopping, drawing out every aftershock.

"Absolutely beautiful."

When the tremors finally subside, my legs give out completely. He wraps his arms around me, pulling me against his chest as I slump against him.

"I've got you."

His voice is softer now, but no less intense. He lifts me easily, the height difference enabling him to support my weight while keeping me pressed close against the wall.

But instead of letting me recover, his mouth finds mine again, hungrier now, more desperate.

"We're not done."

Oh.

His words against my lips send a fresh shiver through my oversensitive body.

"Not even close."

One hand tangles in my hair, yanking my head back to expose my throat. The sting has me gasping, and he takes advantage, his mouth moving to leave more deliberate marks along the column of my neck.

"Damn it, Asher—"

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 of gentleness 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."

His fingers trace maddening circles that keep me right on the precipice without pushing me over.

"You want me to show you who does this to you. Who takes care of you like this."

"You." The word comes out broken, desperate. "You do this to me, Asher. Only you."

The admission seems to satisfy something deep inside him. His touch becomes more focused, more intent, and within seconds he's driving me toward another peak that promises to be even more devastating than the first.

"That's right." His words are reverent now, almost awed. "Only me. Only ever me."

When the second orgasm hits, it's different. Slower-building but more intense, spreading through my entire body like fire through my nervous system. This time, I don't just cry out, I sob his name, my body convulsing against his as pleasure tears through me with mathematical exactness.

Twice. He made me come twice, and he hasn't even taken his clothes off.

For several minutes, we stay like that, my face buried against his neck as I struggle to remember how breathing works, his hands making soothing passes up and down my back despite the tension I can feel thrumming through his entire body.

When I finally have enough strength to lift my head, I'm struck by the sight of him: hair disheveled, skin flushed, dark eyes still wild with want despite his careful control.

"Your turn." I reach for him, but he catches my hands gently, intertwining our fingers to prevent me from touching him.

"No."

The word comes out strained, like it costs him something to say it.

He's not going to let me touch him. This really was all about me.

The realization sends another shiver through me, but this time it's accompanied by something deeper—a recognition of what he's offering me. Complete focus, total attention, pleasure without expectation of reciprocation.

"I understand."

And I do, finally. This level of control, of restraint while his own need is so obvious, is its own form of claiming. He's showing me that he can put my pleasure first, that he can be trusted with my vulnerability.

"Do you?"

His eyes search mine, looking for something. "Because I meant what I said earlier. I don't share."

"Even with Jax?"

The question slips out before I can stop it, and his grip tightens almost imperceptibly.

"Especially with Jax."

His words hold a dangerous edge that makes my heartbeat stutter. "Or anyone else who thinks they can touch you."

Instead of the angry retort I should give, I nod. Something about his intensity, his complete attention on my pleasure rather than his own, has shifted something fundamental between us.

"Good."

He presses a surprisingly gentle kiss to my forehead that contrasts sharply with the possessive marks he's left across my shoulders and collarbone.

"Now you know exactly what you are to me."

As he holds me there, both of us breathing hard, rain continuing its steady rhythm against the windows, I realize he's right. I do know what I am to him. And more importantly, I know what he is to me.

But I'm not ready to give him that victory yet.

"This doesn't mean I'm going to stop talking to people."

My attempted defiance draws a chuckle from him, the sound rumbling through his chest where I'm pressed against it.

"I wouldn't expect anything less from you, little bunny."

His arms tighten around me, protective and possessive all at once. "Just remember who you answer to."

Those words should irritate me, make my stubborn nature flare up. But they send warmth rushing through my chest, filling me with satisfaction I don't want to examine too closely.

"I'll remember."

I promise against his throat, tasting salt and satisfaction on his skin.

"Though I should probably invest in concealer stock and update my relationship status to 'it's complicated.'"

His chuckle rumbles through his chest, and I can feel his smile against my hair.

"Little bunny, you have no idea how complicated things just got."