Page 21 of Veil of Ashes

My hands roam higher, slipping under his shirt now. His skin is hot, slick from the storm, and I drag my nails lightly across his back. He shudders, pressing himself tighter against me.

I catch his mouth again, kissing him deep and messy. His hands move too, cupping my face first, then dropping to my waist. He pulls me in, fingers digging into my hips.

His hands slide up my sides, slow and deliberate. They brush the edges of my shirt, then slip underneath. His fingers find my skin, rough against the softness there, and I arch into his touch.

He kisses me again, softer this time, but it’s still raw. His thumbs skim the curve under my chest, teasing the edge of my bra. My breath hitches, loud in the storm.

I grab his wrists, guiding his hands higher. He doesn’t resist. His fingers slide under the fabric, brushing my nipples, and a sharp spark shoots through me, hot and sudden.

I moan into his mouth, low and needy. He takes it as permission, rolling his thumbs over the sensitive peaks. The sensation hits hard, pooling heat low in my belly.

My hands drop to his chest, then lower. I tug at his belt, fumbling with wet fingers. He tenses, but doesn’t stop me, his lips still moving against mine.

I slide my hand into his trousers, finding him hard and ready. He groans again, louder this time, as my fingers wrap around his cock. It’s warm, pulsing under my touch, and I stroke him once, testing.

His head drops to my shoulder, breath ragged against my neck. “Sylvara,” he rasps, voice thick with want. It sends a thrill through me, hearing my name like that.

His hands don’t stop either. One stays on my chest, playing with my nipple, pinching just enough to make me gasp. The other slides down, past my waist, dipping into my jeans.

His fingers brush me through the fabric first, teasing. I shift my hips, urging him on. He slips beneath, finding me wet, and a low sound escapes him, almost a growl.

He strokes me, slow at first, then firmer. My legs tremble, and I grip his shoulders to steady myself. The rain keeps falling, cold against the fire building inside me.

I kiss him again, desperate and sloppy. His tongue meets mine, matching the rhythm of his fingers. I rock against his hand, chasing the edge he’s pushing me toward.

My hand tightens on him, stroking faster. He bucks into my touch, his control slipping. We’re a mess of rain and heat, hands and mouths, lost in each other.

His fingers circle me, finding the spot that makes me shudder. I break the kiss, gasping, my head falling back. He watches me, eyes dark and locked on mine.

I feel it building, sharp and overwhelming. His touch is relentless, coaxing me closer.

He kisses my neck again, teeth grazing my skin. His hand on my chest pinches harder, and I whimper, the mix of pleasure and sting driving me wild.

I stroke him in time with his rhythm, feeling him throb under my fingers. His breath comes in short bursts, hot against my throat. We’re both close, teetering on the edge.

The storm roars around us, lightning flashing in the distance. It lights up his face, the rain streaking down his cheeks, the hunger in his eyes. I want him—all of him—right here.

But then it hits me. A flash of clarity cuts through the haze. This is too much, too fast.

I pull back, yanking my hand free. My chest heaves, lungs burning as I step away. He freezes, hands dropping, confusion flickering across his face.

“Sylvara?” His voice is rough, strained. He’s still breathing hard, rain dripping from his hair.

I shake my head, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “That didn’t happen,” I say, forcing the words out.

He stares at me, then lets out a shaky laugh. “Then why are we both shaking?”

I don’t answer. My lips still buzz, my skin alive where he touched me. I turn away, facing the railing.

The rain slows, a steady patter now. My jeans cling to my thighs, heavy and cold. I feel him behind me, close but not moving.

“I don’t need saving,” I say, staring at the city below. My voice sounds steadier than I feel.

“Wasn’t trying to save you,” he replies, low and even. He steps beside me, not touching, just there.

I kissed him to shut him up. That’s the lie I’ll keep telling myself. But my body knows the truth, still humming from his hands.

We stand there, soaked and silent. The storm rolls on, thunder fading into the distance. Neither of us moves to close the gap again.

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