Bound By A Broken Night novel Chapter 73

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Chapter 73

Ashton was caught completely off guard by Cassie’s sudden boldness. His mind stalled as her lips pressed against his–soft, tentative, unmistakably real. For a heartbeat, he could only gape at her, frozen between shock and restraint.

And yet… the gentle brush of her mouth against his sent a slow, dangerous heat through his system. It was disarming–far more intoxicating than the wine he’d been sipping moments ago.

Her kiss wasn’t practiced or demanding. It was clumsy, tentative, almost innocent–and that was precisely what unraveled him. For a married woman, the purity of it felt almost unbelievable.

“Hm…” she hummed in quiet protest when he remained stiff, unresponsive. Her teeth caught his lower lip, testing him in small, daring bites.

He inhaled sharply.

“I know,” she murmured, pulling back just enough to look at him, her lips forming a small pout when he still didn’t react,

“I know I’m far more inexperienced than the other women you’ve had.”

The words weren’t accusatory–just honest. Vulnerable.

And that, more than anything, made Ashton’s restraint tremble.

She tried to pull back, but his arm curved around her waist, firm and unyielding, anchoring her in place. Instead of resisting, she surrendered to the pull, pressing herself closer as if drawn by something

inevitable.

“I used to imagine how it would feel to kiss you,” she murmured, a soft, almost bashful smile lifting her lips as her free hand slid around his neck.

“And how it would feel to be in your arms.”

She leaned into him, fitting herself against his chest as though she had memorized the shape of him

long ago.

“Just like this.”

Her smile lingered, fragile and aching.

“You were always a dream I could never reach, Ashton Pierce. No matter how hard I tried–you were too far above me.”

Her fingertip traced the line of his lips, slow and reverent, the stem of her wineglass trembling slightly in her hand.

More than her words, it was her nearness that undid him–her warm breath at his jaw, the unguarded honesty in her touch. His control frayed, each breath growing heavier than the last.

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“I used to dream of being cherished,” she whispered, her voice barely louder than the night air.

“Of being chosen by someone like you.” She brushed a kiss along his jaw, unhurried, almost searching, before finding his mouth again.

This time he responded–instinct overtaking restraint. The kiss deepened, no longer tentative but full of longing that had waited far too long to surface. For a moment, the world narrowed to the space between them, the city below forgotten.

Then Ashton stiffened.

He broke away abruptly, stepping back as if the distance itself might steady him. His chest rose and fell unevenly, his hands curling at his sides in quiet conflict.

“This is wrong, Cassie,” he said hoarsely, forcing the words past his breathlessness.

“No matter how much I want you–you’re married.”

Her eyes were hazy when she looked at him, whether from the wine or the kiss, he couldn’t tell.

“And you’re drunk,” he added, softer now.

“I’m not so drunk that I don’t know what I’m doing,” she replied, closing the space between them again with a stubborn tilt of her chin.

“I know exactly what I want.” She smiled–reckless, luminous.

“My marriage has nothing to do with this.”

“Is it because it’s forbidden?” she asked lightly, almost teasing.

“I’ve wanted you for as long as I can remember. Even when you were with Mirriam, I convinced myself you came to the Knowles house for me. I lived with those thoughts for years.”

A small, breathless laugh escaped her.

“The only difference now,” she said, eyes shining as she rested her hands against his chest, “is that it’s no longer just in my head.” Her gaze held his, bold and unflinching.

“You’re here,” she whispered.

“And for once… so am I.” A faint, daring smirk curved her lips.

Before he could grasp her intent, she pushed him back. His balance faltered as the edge of the daybed caught the back of his knees, and he went down with a soft grunt–more from surprise than resistance. For a heartbeat, he simply stared at her, stunned.

Then she moved.

She straddled him with a boldness that shattered what little restraint he had left, her weight settling where his control was already thinnest. The air left his lungs in a sharp breath.

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“Your body is far more honest than you are, Ashton Pierce,” she murmured, glancing down with a knowing look. A subtle shift of her hips drew a raw gasp from him.

“Damn it, Cassie…”

His hand flew to his face as he squeezed his eyes shut, struggling to breathe through the sudden rush of sensation.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” she whispered, her voice soft but certain.

“To know what it feels like for real–not just in some vague dream.”

Her lips brushed his neck, warm and unhurried, leaving lingering kisses against his heated skin. His composure unraveled. Both hands came up to grip her hips, holding on–not to stop her, but because he needed something solid to ground him.

“Cassie…”

Her name left his mouth rough and breathless, a plea he didn’t even try to disguise.

She leaned in, teasingly close, her breath ghosting over his ear before her teeth caught lightly at the edge of it. The night swallowed his broken sound, and for a moment–just a moment–everything else disappeared.

“You’re a masterpiece, Ashton,” she whispered against his skin, her voice reverent.

Her fingers worked open the buttons of his shirt with unhurried care, as if savoring each second. When the fabric finally parted, her palm slid over warm skin–exploring the solid planes of his chest, tracing the strength carved beneath her touch. He shuddered beneath her hand, breath hitching despite himself.

She eased him back against the daybed, her gaze lingering, appreciative–almost worshipful. For a moment, she simply looked at him, as if committing every line and shadow to memory.

“I don’t care if this is forbidden in the eyes of society,” she said softly, her conviction unmistakable.

“I want you, Ashton.”

Her kisses followed the words–light, lingering, reverent–brushing along his jaw, his throat, down the center of his chest. Each touch sent a quiet tremor through him, the tension in his body tightening with every breath.

“I’ve chased this dream for too long,” she murmured.

“Tonight, I’m claiming it.”

Her lips lingered, her presence undeniable, and the night itself seemed to pause–suspended with them on the edge of something dangerous, intoxicating, and achingly real.

Her hand slid down, slow and deliberate, resting at his waist. The smallest movement–an unhurried tug -sent a jolt through him, his breath catching as anticipation coiled tight and relentless between them.

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She leaned closer, her smile a quiet claim. Her fingers found the hook of his pants. With deliberate slowness, she drew the zipper down, her gaze falling to the conspicuous bulge trapped within the thin cotton of his boxers.

It was the last feeble obstacle to what she desired.

“Cassie…”

****tbc****

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