Chapter 188
When Asher pulls away, my first thought is I did something wrong.
But when I look at him, at how hard he still is and how his breathing’s heavy and charged, I realize… I didn’t.
Though I’m still not sure why he stopped.
“Why did you stop p>
Way to sound desperate, Violet.
“You needed me to p>
The arrogant Lycan in front of me sounds strangely unsure of himself, and I shake my head. “I didn’t p>
He draws in a deep breath and rubs his hands over his face, then through his hair. “You should p>
“But I don’t p>
The place between my legs is wet and aching, water dripping down my thighs, and it’s awkward to still stand here without him… touching me.
I’m not entirely certain what to do, actually.
Asher groans.
“We’re going too far,” he warns.
My eyebrows pull together. “I told you, the energy transfer isn’t… much p>
It’s there, but it’s nothing like it is when our skin touches.
It’s impossible to completely avoid us touching even then, but they were more like sparks and rushes of energy lasting a second or two, not a constant drain of arcana. And, if I’m being brutally honest—which horny Violet apparently is—it felt really, really fucking good every time his skin would brush against mine.
So right now I’m feeling more than a little lost and kind of abandoned in the middle of what was promising to be an amazingly intimate, stolen moment in the middle of the night, and Asher looks… tortured.
But then he drops his hands, and his eyes are all dark and hot and intense again, and my belly flutters.
“Are you sure p>
I nod. I think I am, anyway.
Asher looks at the cloth on the ground, then grabs another out of the cabinet and walks to the sink again, only inches away from me.
Am I supposed to close my legs now? Or still stand here with them awkwardly spread out? Do I turn around? How exactly does this work p>
I’m not really great at being sexy, so I’m not entirely certain how to pull this man back into the mood.
“Bend over the sink,” Asher says, his voice rough.
Never mind. I guess my awkward stand-like-a-statue move is working.
My stomach flips, my core pulses, and I shakily make my way to the sink and hold onto the edge of it. He nudges my feet further apart with his own, the gentle pressure of his foot against mine sending sparks up my legs.
If I’m being honest—again!—the energy transfer is a little greater now than it was before. Maybe it’s the ambience. But this time, I vow silently to actually pay attention to what’s happening and maybe try to control the arcana instead of getting swept up by the man’s words and pseudo-touch.
“Bend over,” he murmurs, and I do, until my forehead touches the mirror over the sink. The cold countertop is like ice against my heated skin, and he runs the cloth over my back again, the frigid water making my skin pebble with goosebumps.
Gently.
Like he’s trying to drive me crazy, knowing I’m already way beyond a couple brushes against my back.
My hips wriggle a little with want, and Asher slides the cloth down my back, over my ass, and down my right thigh. Then he pushes against the back of my knee.
I bend my knee obediently, not sure what he’s doing until his hand cups the back of my thigh, lifting it with careful pressure. The cool countertop meets my knee as he positions me, opening me up in a way so debauched I’m… not entirely certain how to feel about it.
Hot? Yes.
Awkward? Also yes.
The core of me clenches hard, though, greedily accepting anything he does to me and wanting more.
I teeter on the tiptoes of my other foot, feeling exposed and vulnerable. The position is precarious and I still have no idea what he’s doing, leaving me off-kilter and not sure how to proceed.
It’s definitely worse than just standing there awkwardly after he backed off.
The washcloth slides from my thigh upward in a torturously slow path, and I change my mind.
Not worse after all. It’s better.
Way better.
Every inch the cloth travels higher sends ripples of anticipation through my body, slowly dominating the embarrassment.
“What are you doing?” The question slips out breathless, my lip caught between my teeth as I struggle to maintain what little composure I have.
Not that there’s much to be had when you have your leg hiked up on a counter.
At least my panties are still on, though… I’m not sure if it’s a good thing or a bad thing at this point.
“Worshipping,” Asher says quietly.
The single word hits me like… I don’t know, something.
He didn’t say playing. Or looking. Or even teasing. No, he had to go with the big guns and come out with worshipping?
Like I’m something sacred and wonderful instead of a girl who wishes this whole energy transfer thing wasn’t an issue so we could do a hell of a lot more than all this teasing.
The cloth continues its ascent, his knuckles brushing the sensitive skin of my inner thigh through the damp fabric. My breath hitches, and I press my forehead harder against the mirror, seeking its coolness as my temperature rises.
“You don’t need to—” I start, but my words dissolve into a gasp as the cloth finally makes contact.
It’s warm after so much contact, rough, and strange as his fingers move in gentle circles, barely brushing against the center of nerves.
I want more.
It’s a terrible tease as my hips jerk and grind down, but he doesn’t give me what I’m searching for.
“I do need to,” Asher counters, his voice a low rumble behind me. “You have no idea how much p>
Fuck.
I roll my hips back and lose my balance, but he’s right there, his chest hard and hot against my back as he shoves his palm against the core of me, encouraging me to roll and rock against it.
My panties are soaked from the cloth and…
It isn’t enough.
I want his fingers inside—
But he shakes his head like he can hear what I’m thinking. “I can’t put it inside, Violet. No matter how much you’re aching for it. It won’t feel as good as you think p>
How the fuck would he know?
But he keeps his fingers flat as he rubs and presses, until a surge of arousal catches me by surprise, my thighs shaking as my entire body tries to stiffen against it.
“Relax,” he murmurs, and I throw my head back against his shoulder with a groan.
His mouth brushes against my ear, and that tiny point of contact is all it takes for me to explode.