Page 92 of Ashes of Forever


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There was no gentleness here.

No hesitation.

This was need—five years of it—breaking loose at once.

His mouth was everywhere: her jaw, her cheek, her throat.

He kissed her like he was relearning something holy he’d once lost.

“Violet,” he groaned.

“William… we shouldn’t…”

The protest dissolved on her tongue as he kissed her again.

“I know,” he breathed, voice frayed, his lips trembling against hers.

“But I’ve gone five years without you… I don’t have it in me to pull away.”

Her resolve crumbled—quietly, helplessly—beneath the weight of his words.

“I’ve missed you—so much,” she breathed, tugging him back down to her lips.

His whole body tightened at her words, as though something inside him finally snapped free.

With a low, unsteady sound, he turned her so her front met the wall, his mouth finding the soft line of her throat. Kisses burned a desperate path across her neck, urgency sharpening with each one. A trembling hand drifted down the length of her spine, reverent and unsteady.

There—hidden beneath the folds of fabric—lay the tiny, meticulously set hooks fastening her gown.

He began unhooking them one by one.

The first resisted his shaking fingers, then gave with a small, sharp snap.

Her pulse skittered at the noise.

The second.

The third.

A slow, stumbling surrender down the line as he worked, each one freed with careful, almost frantic intent.

A shiver rippled through her.

He pressed his mouth to the curve where her neck met her shoulder, lips brushing the delicate edge of her collar as another hook slipped loose beneath his hands.

Violet let her head fall to the side, baring her throat, her hands flattening against the wall as heat flooded her skin.

The storm roared outside.

Inside, the only sound was their breathing—rough, uneven, urgent.

His fingers brushed the bare skin beneath her gown as the fabric loosened, and she felt his breath falter against her shoulder.

“Tell me to stop,” he said, voice breaking.

She closed her eyes, breath shuddering.

“William…” she whispered—years of ache wrapped in his name.