Chapter 97

Ashton was about to explode. His skin ran cooler than hers—that was the whole reason she’d latched onto him in the first place. But the coolness didn’t last long. The moment her lips brushed his skin, heat punched through his core like a flare. His chest tightened, ribs compressing like his lungs had shrunk. She was doing unspeakable things to his shirt, tugging and clawing at the fabric with the same feverish impatience she’d shown that night at the hotel. Apparently, she had a habit of tearing buttons off when she didn’t feel like undoing them one by one. His throat was dry as sand. Forming words was a challenge he had no time for. At first, he’d tried to behave. She was feverish. Burning up. Maybe even delirious. Someone had to be the adult in the room. But it was getting harder by the second. Every time she whimpered in that breathy, unsatisfied way when he edged away, every time her mouth ghosted over his chest or her cheek dragged across his stomach, another bolt of heat tore thr