One hand finds my jaw, his thumb pressed against my pulse like he’s feeling it stutter beneath my skin. The other lands heavy on my hip,claiming.
The shock of it cracks through me, setting every nerve on fire—then it’s gone, replaced by the rush. By him, by the brutal drag of his mouth over mine as he kisses me back.
“Thorn,” he rasps, voice wrecked, ragged. “You don’t want this. You don’t wantme. You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
My chest rises hard against his. “I knowexactlywhat I’m asking for. One fucking good night after seven months of hell.”
And god, I do. I want him like a fever. Like madness. Like something I’m not supposed to survive. I pull him closer. I need that mouth back on mine, now.
“You said it yourself, you don’t trust me.” He breathes as he skims his lips down my throat. My thighs press tight, lungs lock when he finds the spot just beneath my jaw, the one that makes thinking impossible.
“I’m not asking for a fucking trust fall, I’m asking forthis.”
My hand slides between us, trailing slow,intentional, down the front of his uniform. When I find him already hard, thick, straining against the fabric, everything in my chest locks. And for a second, the world holds still, the air thickens. Then I move, flattening my palm, pressing against it, light and testing.
“Fuck, Lyra,” he groans, short and strangled, head tipping back as his whole body tenses under my touch. “I’m barely holding myself together. I’mtryingto do the right thing here. Every part of me wants to crossthisline, please don’t fucking tempt me.”
“Right thing forwho?” I lean in, teeth grazing his jaw. “You’re not going to break me. My magic’s stable now. I’m not some cracked vessel about to shatter.”
His eyes shut like he’s trying to pull himself back from the edge—but when they open, they’re darker.Hungrier.
“There are a hundredotherreasons this is a bad idea.” He grits out, but his hands are moving—climbing up my side, trailing over my ribs.
This is reckless. I shouldn’t want this. Not with him. Not like this. But I do.
“You’re probably right,” I murmur, rolling my hips against his, just once, just enough. “But I don’t care. I’m not thinking about a lifetime. I’m just thinking abouttonight.”
My grip tightens around the solid length of him, and he curses low, forehead dropping to mine like he needs the contact just to hold it together.
“The thing about this dress…” I tease, leaning in as I catch his right wrist, sliding it down over my thigh. “It’s too tight to wear anything underneath.”
I find the slit in the fabric and guide him under, skin to skin. His breath stalls, but I don’t stop—just keep guiding himhigher, until his hand is right there, pressed up against that desperate ache between the apex of my thighs, where I’m already pulsing—nothing but greed and want.
“See?” I whisper, “I know exactly what I want.”
A broken sound cracks from his chest—low and raw—and then his free hand is in my hair, fisting it at the base of my neck. Not cruel. Not tender. Just...desperate. The kind of touch that says he’s losing the last shred of control he has left.
“Lyra, you feel so fucking good.”
My hips tilt forward as I press his hand harder against me, showing him exactly how badly I want this.Exactly how ready I am. He shudders, fingers twitching against me.
“Just tonight?” he repeats, like the word hurts.
“Just tonight.” I confirm.
He doesn’t move at first. Just stares, lungs working in broken, jagged pulls, eyes asking one last time if I really mean it.
“I want this, I wantyou,” I say, quiet but clear.
He exhales like it punches the air out of him. A heartbeat. Two. Then?—
“Fuck it.”
It’s not a curse, it’s a surrender, and something in him breaks. I feel it, the tremor that runs through his chest before the words even land.
His hands move, gripping my hips, and suddenly I’m airborne, back thudding against the door as he lifts me like the decision was made hours ago and his body’s just catching up.
My dress rides up as my legs wrap around him without thinking, and he catches my bottom lip between his teeth, arough grip that steals my breath. No hesitation now, just that fevered, greedy pull. The kind of kiss that silences everything but the blood pulsing in my ears.
