Page 51 of Silent as Sin
I buried my face against her hair, breathing her in, fighting the urge to just take. But then she shifted in her sleep, her body curling closer, a soft sound leaving her throat that wasn’t nightmare-born. It was a whimper, needy and unconscious.
“Wren,” I whispered against her ear, my hand sliding up her stomach, finding the curve of her breast. Her nipple peaked instantly beneath my thumb, and she gasped awake, eyes fluttering open.
Her hand found mine, holding it against her chest. She turned her face toward me, lips parted, eyes hazy but certain. “Ashen…”
“You good?” I rasped, already grinding against her, fighting to hold on. “Because I need you again, baby. Been needing you since the second I closed my eyes.”
She nodded, breathless, and pressed her hips back against me. “Yes.”
That was all it took. I rolled her onto her back, kissing her hard, hungry. No nerves now. Just want. My tongue tangled with hers, my stubble scraping her soft skin as my hands roamed, relearning every inch of her body.
“Couldn’t stay asleep,” I muttered against her throat, sucking at the hollow until she moaned. “You’re in my head, my blood. I’ll never get enough.”
I shoved the blanket down, her legs falling open beneath me. She was wet already, slick and ready, and the sight of her in the moonlight nearly dropped me to my knees.
“So fucking perfect,” I groaned, sliding two fingers inside her, stroking until she was panting, clutching at my arms.
I fumbled for another condom in the nightstand, tore it open with my teeth, and rolled it on with shaking hands. My cock ached, heavy and hard, and I lined up fast, pushing inside her in one steady stroke.
Her cry split the quiet night, echoing against the walls. She clung to me, nails raking down my back, her legs locking tight around my waist.
“Fuck, Wren,” I groaned, already thrusting, harder this time, driven by raw hunger. “You feel too good. Can’t stop. Don’t ever wanna stop.”
The room filled with the sound of our bodies colliding, her gasps, my groans, the creak of the bed under every relentless drive of my hips. I took her mouth, swallowing her cries, then pulled back to watch her face. She was wrecked and beautiful, hair wild against my pillow, sweat beading her chest.
Her voice broke on my name, begging, and I shifted, braced my hand on the headboard and fucked her deeper, hitting a spot that made her scream.
“That’s it,” I growled. “Give it to me, baby. Let me hear you.”
She shattered, body clenching around me, her cry loud and raw. The way she squeezed me, the heat of her release, dragged me under. I pounded harder, faster, until I spilled into the condom with a groan that shook the air.
I collapsed on top of her, both of us drenched, breathing like we’d run through the desert. My heart slammed against hers, sweat slick between us. I kissed her slow, softer now, tasting her sigh against my mouth.
“Couldn’t stay asleep without you,” I whispered. “Don’t think I ever will.”
She smiled faintly, worn out but sure. “Good. Because I don’t want you to.”
I pulled the blanket back over us, keeping her close. Outside, the desert stretched endless and silent, the world waiting to burn. But in here, she was mine, fragile and fierce, soft and unbreakable, and I knew I’d tear down every wall, every enemy, before I let her go.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
THE FIRST THINGthat hit me was the quiet. Notthe hollow silence I learned to move in inside that old farmhouse, where even breathing felt too loud. This was different. Alive. Ashen’s chest rose and fell under my cheek, his arm heavy across my waist, pinning me in place like he owned me.
The sheets smelled like us. My body ached in a way that didn’t bruise, the kind that told me I’d been claimed. Every inch of me still burned with the memory of his mouth, his hands, the way he’d looked at me like I was the only thing worth seeing.
I should’ve been afraid. Fear had lived in me for years. But this morning it was shoved back in the shadows. What filled me now was stronger, hungrier — the weight of being wanted, and wanting him back.
I shifted to see his face. Stubble rough on his jaw, lips parted in sleep, a crease still dug between his brows like even in dreams he couldn’t lay it all down. My hand moved without thinking, tracing the scar across his collarbone.
His eyes snapped open, cutting as a blade even half-asleep. “You watching me, Wren?” His voice was rough, all grit and gravel.
Heat rushed up my throat. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t.” His arm clamped tighter, dragging me flush against him. His chin dropped to my head. “Don’t mind waking up to you staring at me like that.”
I let out a shaky breath. My fingers pressed flat against his chest, counting the heavy beat. “I thought I’d… feel different.”
He shifted, eyes narrowing on me. “And?”
