Page 175 of Tower of Ash and Darkness
“Why me?” I ask, the words trembling with the need to understand.
His hands rise, cupping my face with a steadying tenderness. His thumb brushes softly over my skin, his touch warm and grounding.
“Because you, Lailah,” he whispers, “are the only one worthy of every piece of me.”
His lips capture mine, and the world fades away. My breath catches as his tongue moves against mine, a soft moan escaping me in surrender. He presses into me, his body hard against mine, and I feel his length against my stomach, igniting a deep hunger I can no longer contain. His hand, once resting lightly at my waist, now glides down my body, each touch tender, as though I am something delicate, something worth treasuring.
I bite his bottom lip, daring him to feel the fire that’s building inside me. I pull him closer, tangling my fingers in the dark strands of his hair, and with each movement of our bodies, the need between us grows, fierce and insistent.Gods, I want him.Casper’s hand moves from my waist to my neck, his touch gentle, yet powerful, sending shivers through me.
He kisses me deeply, but then pulls away, coming heavy, and mine, faint, a soft whisper of desire in the stillness. I tilt my face toward him, my lips aching for his, but he pulls back once more, his eyes darkening, a smile tugging at his lips—an invitation, a challenge.
"What’s so funny?" I chuckle, soft and light.
His gaze drifts to my lips, and without thinking, I bite down on my bottom lip, a teasing gesture that seems to draw him even closer. His eyes darken.
“Do that again,” he whispers, his voice low and rich with desire, “and I won’t be able to control myself.”
A smirk curls at the corner of my lips, and I do it again. Slowly, I move down, my hand tracing the path of his neck, the firm muscle beneath my fingertips. I lean into him, and with a gentle push, guide him onto his back. My body hovers above his, and for a moment, I simply take him in—his face, the way his dark hair falls across his eyes. I hesitate for just a moment before brushing the hair aside, revealing the depths of his green gaze.
I pause, drinking him in, mesmerized by the moment—byhim.
As if a playful impulse takes over, I lean in and, with a quick flick of my tongue, lick the tip of his nose. A soft giggle escapes me, light and teasing. The sound dances in the air, and I attempt to slip away, to escape the intensity of the moment. But before I can even take a step, Casper’s strong arms envelop me, pulling me back into him in a warm, secure embrace. Just as quickly, I’m airborne, lifted and thrown effortlessly over his shoulder.
I laugh louder now, the sound spilling out like music in the still night, and as we make our way toward the cave, I catch glimpses of the rugged stone walls, a distant fire casting shadows across the entrance. There’s something wild, something untamed about thisplace, and yet, in his arms, I feel safe, as though this very moment was meant for us.
He carries me with ease, stepping into the cool darkness of the cave. The world around us seems to fade, the only sound now is our shared laughter, the whisper of the night outside lost behind the stone walls.
Casper lowers me onto the furs with a quiet reverence, his touch careful and unhurried. The softness beneath me is a stark contrast to the heat rising between us, the tension forming low in my belly as his body follows, pressing in close. He hovers above me, both of his elbows resting on either side of my face, and I can feel the warmth between us, intimate and electric. But then, with a sudden shift, he stands up, and my laughter falters, an expectant silence settling over us.
I watch, transfixed, as he begins to unbutton his shirt, each button undone slowly, one by one. My gaze follows the movement of his fingers, trailing across the lines of his chest, and then, with a fluid motion, he slides the shirt off his body. Underneath, swirling tattoos mark his skin, intricate designs that pull the eye to one in particular—a flower, its petals curling just like the one I found left in my tent. Delicate and wild all at once, it blooms over his skin as if it had always belonged there.
Beneath the flower, more patterns emerge. Lines coil like smoke, some rigid, others fluid, weaving together like pieces of a story I’ve yet to decipher. Some trace constellations. Others curl like runes or creatures caught mid-motion, shifting between beauty and warning. They don’t just decorate him. They guard him, hold memories he chose not to forget, secrets stitched into his skin and kept just out of reach.
My heart skips a beat. I can’t look away, captivated by the way his body moves, the grace and strength in every shift. But as he tosses the shirt aside, I see him hesitate, his fingers hovering at his waist, just above the belt. The pause catches me off guard, and my breath catches in my throat.
His eyes remain locked on me, watching, waiting—waiting for something. Forme.
I tilt my head as if to answer his unvoiced question.
Reaching in front of me, I tug at the tie of my loose tunic, the fabric brushing softly against my skin as it starts to fall away with a gentle whisper. The air between us feels charged, as if the very act of undressing has deepened our connection. Casper’s gaze intensifies, his breath held in quiet anticipation, waiting, watching, every muscle taut.
I step out of my slacks, leaving my entire body bare to the cool air around us. Normally, the idea of being vulnerable like this—naked around a man—feels wrong or unsafe, but with him, I feel a strange sense of belonging, like I’ve finally found a place where I can truly be myself. I feel his eyes trace every inch of me, hungry and tender all at once. My fingers move to his pants, working them off with a fumbling touch, pulling them down as my body falls with them.
When I look up, Casper’s eyes are fixed on me, dark and intense. He reaches for my chin, gently guiding me upward, his touch sending a shiver through me. Quietly, firmly, he leads me backward, step by step, until my body meets the bedroll on the cave floor.
With the grace of a man who’s taken his time to learn every part of me, Casper crawls on top, his body moving achingly, tantalizingly slow. He shifts me gently, and with a final, tender motion, he places my head softly on the pillows, the cave’s silence filled only by the sound of our breathing. My hands glide over his back, feeling the taut muscles beneath my fingertips. I let them trace softly along his sides, then slide them upward to his neck. With a pull, I draw him closer, and Casper captures my mouth with his, his tongue pressing firmly against mine. The ache for more is undeniable.
Grasping his tongue, I suck it deeply, savoring his reaction—a low, guttural growl that sends a shiver down my spine. His hand moves to my neck, pulling me closer, his grip firm and thrilling. When our mouths meet again, the intensity is all-consuming, a fire I could drown in, lost in his taste.
I nip at his bottom lip, a tease, and he responds by letting one hand slide down to my waist, stopping just shy of what I crave. My fingers leave his neck and guide his hand lower, urging him towardwhere I need his touch the most. When his fingers find their place, the sensation makes my back arch into him, my body seeking more. His movements send waves of heat coursing through me, leaving me gasping and pleading for the release only he can give.
Casper leans down, his breath warm against my skin, and slides two fingers inside me with ease. I gasp as a wave of pleasure surges through me, every nerve igniting under his touch.
Gods, this feels so good.
I can barely form a coherent thought, lost in the rhythm he sets. He moves in and out of me effortlessly, his fingers slick with my essence, drawing soft gasps from my lips with every motion. Desperate for more, I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, silently begging him to take me further. But it’s not enough—I need more.
With a surge of boldness, I grab hold of him and roll us over, pinning him beneath me. Straddling his hips, I let my hand trail down, wrapping around his length. The weight and heat of him in my hand sends a rush of anticipation and desire through me. I stroke him slowly, savoring the way his body responds as he utters a deep, guttural moan that stokes the fire building inside me.
