Bound By A Broken Night novel Chapter 77

Chapter 77

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“Ashton, 1-” Cassie’s words were cut short as his mouth descended on hers, fierce and consuming, swallowing her protest until her thoughts scattered like leaves in a gale.

A soft, broken moan escaped her lips-“Ahhhn…“–echoing faintly in the vast expanse of his bedroom.

Beyond the floor–to–ceiling glass wall, the morning sun cast a golden glow over the city’s skyline, the silent skyscrapers standing as impartial witnesses to their fervent union.

All her worries, her doubts, evaporated like mist beneath his touch. He carried her higher and higher, to a place only he knew how to reach–a zenith of sensation that left her breathless.

She could only gasp, arching into his fervent caresses, shuddering with each deep, deliberate thrust. Her gaze drifted upward, watching the shadowed dance of their bodies–a primal rhythm as old as time itself.

“Ashton…” she breathed, her voice trembling on the edge of release. He knew–he always knew–how

close she was.

“I am all yours, Cassidy,” he murmured against her lips before claiming them once more, his kiss a promise and a possession.

His hips drove deeper, his pace quickening, turning urgent, desperate. The massive bed groaned in time with their movements, the world narrowing to this–to them.

As he gathered her tightly into his arms, he made one final, forceful thrust, and they shattered together.

“Argh!” His guttural cry mingled with her choked groan as she clung to him, both trembling in the aftershocks of euphoria.

He held her close, his breathing ragged, and pressed gentle, soothing kisses along her neck and shoulders. Wrapped in his warmth, she felt a rare and quiet calm. But as moments stretched, she expected him to withdraw, to put distance between them–as he often did. This time, he didn’t.

Instead, he remained inside her, his body still intimately joined with hers.

“Ashton, my legs are going numb,” she whispered, attempting to shift away. But his hands held her firmly, her legs still locked around his waist.

He eased back slightly, but before fully separating from her, he reached for a pillow and slid it beneath her hips.

“What are you doing?” she asked, brow furrowed, suddenly acutely aware of her awkward position–her hips elevated, her head lower, while he remained between her legs, his gaze intent.

“Some… spilled out,” he mumbled, his thumb gently wiping the moisture from her wet slit.

Heat flooded her cheeks. How could he stare so openly–so shamelessly–at the most intimate part of her, especially when it was still slick with the evidence of their lovemaking? If his intention was to embarrass her, he was succeeding masterfully.

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“Move away, Ashton,” she insisted, nudging him weakly with her heel.

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“Stay still for a while,” he commanded, his voice low, as if studying her there was a task requiring utmost concentration.

“What are you doing? You’re a pervert,” she accused, covering her face with her hands, overwhelmed by his audacity.

“Let me wash up,” she demanded, her voice tight with mortification.

“Just a little longer,” he murmured softly, his thumb tracing the outer edge of her entrance, a touch so light it made her gasp.

Even after everything they had just shared, this felt different–more exposing. To be laid bare and examined in the bright light of day, messy and vulnerable… it was too much.

“Ashton…” Her tone sharpened, pleading now.

“I think it’s safe now,” he whispered, almost to himself.

“Safe from what?” she asked, barely catching the words.

“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head, though his eyes still hadn’t left her. “I’ll help you wash.”

Still perplexed by his odd behavior, she felt a wave of relief wash over her. At last, this strange, humiliating inspection was over.

They showered together, the steam rising around them in a warm, hazy cloud. He didn’t let her lift a finger -instead, he took his time, lathering her skin with slow, soothing strokes, washing her hair with a quiet focus that felt almost reverent. For a few moments, it was easy to lose herself in the simple intimacy.

But then, like a cold splash of reality, the thought returned.

It wasn’t just the way he’d held her afterward, longer than usual, or the careful placement of the pillow. It was this, too–the way he was washing her now, with such attentive, almost possessive care. As if she were something precious.

‘He’s trying to get me pregnant.‘

The realization struck her with a force that made her breath catch. It terrified her, a sharp, cold prickle of

fear down her spine.

She stood still under the water, her eyes still closed, feeling the weight of his silent intention in every gentle touch.

Until they were both dressed, an unusual silence settled between them. It wasn’t awkward–but it was heavy. The kind of quiet that lingered when too much had been said without words, and too much had happened to pretend it hadn’t.

Cassie focused on buttoning her blouse, her movements careful, deliberate. Ashton stood a short distance away, fastening his watch, his jaw tight. Both of them were lost in their own thoughts, circling

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the same night from opposite ends.

After a long stretch of silence, Ashton finally spoke.

“Let’s have a late breakfast,” he said casually, too casually.

“You can sleep again after. I’ll just drop by the office to sign some documents.”

His tone was light, almost routine–as if the wild, reckless passion of the night before hadn’t happened at all.

Cassie paused for a fraction of a second, then shrugged, pretending to adjust the sleeve of her blouse.

“I’ll go back to my hotel.”

Ashton turned to her then. He studied her face for a long moment, searching, weighing his words–but in the end, he said nothing.

“Knowles Corporation’s celebration is in a couple of days,” she added, still not meeting his eyes.

“I need to prepare.”

“You’ll go with me that night,” Ashton said quietly.

It wasn’t a suggestion. It was a command.

This time, Cassie looked at him.

Their gazes locked, the air between them tightening as each tried to read what the other was truly thinking.

“I’m CEO Zandrie Wallace’s wife,” she said after a moment, her voice steady.

“I should be by his side.”

Ashton let out a sharp snort, shaking his head.

“You really trust your scumbag husband.”

“Well,” she replied lightly, though something brittle edged her tone, “isn’t that what marriage is? Through thick and thin. For richer, for poorer.”

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