Page 157 of Gravehouse

His thrusts become heavy, each one hitting hard. “Yours.”

I’m still trembling through my first orgasm when he buries his face in my neck. Every growl, moan, fucking pant, all turn nuclear when his release rips a second one out of me with a muffled scream.

We stay exactly like this, forehead resting against my temple until our breathing slows.

He pulls back just enough to look at me, before kissing the choker. “Always mine.”

“Yes." I lift my palm to his cheek. “Always yours.”

His eyes close, every muscle in his shoulder loosening as he shifts his weight while still buried inside me.

I tense.

He swipes my lip with his thumb. “We should get you inside before you freeze to death.”

“Whose fault is that?” I side-eye him, pulling down my shirt.

“Yours.” He kisses my nose. “For leaving.”

That shuts me up.

Asher grins. "Race you to the bottom.”

“What? So you can let me win again?” I say, brow arched.

“I neverletyou win.” He kisses me again once we’re decent, pulling me under his arm. “I just prefer the view from back here.”

I shove him playfully as I slip forward.

Wind tears at my ears as the mountain streaks past, and I let the board fly. Asher rides close behind, his board hissing through the snow at my back. Driving my edge in, ice sprays out as I skid to a stop when we hit the bottom entrance to the manor.

Every good feeling disappears when I see who’s standing beneath the canopy near the pool, the fire painting her silhouette in amber.

My mother.

Asher pulls up beside me and gets a boot free, his hand already on my hip. His squeeze is possessive as his mouth skims the top of my head.

“Hear her out.”

“I don’t want to.”

“I know.” His thumb traces a slow circle over my jacket. “Do it anyway.”

I stare at her across the pillow of snow. She hasn’t moved. It wasn’t her fault. I know that. I’ve known it for months, ever since the truth clawed its way out of Emeric’s grave. She didn’t abandon me. She didn’tchooseany of it. But knowing that doesn’t fill the hollowed space of her overall absence.

“Ivy.” Asher’s voice drops, that low register he uses when he’s giving me orders in bed. “Venom. Look at me.”

I look.

Firelight flickers across his eyes, bleaching them almost colorless. “Give her five minutes. If she wastes them, I’ll drag her back to Désamour myself.”

He kisses me again, slower this time.

I pull my beanie off and shake out my hair. Amélie watches me cross the snow, and up close, our shared genetics become more and more obvious.

“Ivy,” she says, exposing her slight accent.

“You waited outside in the snow. That’s either dedication or stupidity.”