Ember X (Death Collectors) - By Jessica Sorensen Page 0,29

solace, not sorrow.

“Do you know some believe that the eyes are the window to the soul?” he asks softly.

I elevate my eyebrows. “You know that’s a pick-up line, right?”

His intense expression is breathtaking as he cups my cheek and grazes his thumb along my cheekbone. The feel of his skin against mine sends tingles all over my body and fills me with feelings I’ve never experienced before because they can only come through contact with another.

“It is now, but a long time ago people used to believe that a person’s eyes gave insight to one’s soul. It showed what they were really feeling and their vulnerability.” He gently traces his finger below my eyes. “You have beautiful eyes, but there’s so much sadness in them.”

I swallow the lump in my throat and focus on his lips. Dear God Almighty, he has such luscious lips.

“Ember,” he whispers and temporarily unhitches the chains that bind me to every single person’s death. It’s a strange feeling, but an invigorating one. “I want to kiss you.” His voice drops to a husky whisper as he leans in. “Please tell me I can kiss you… God please just say it.”

“Yes…” I breathe and it takes me a second to realize the full meaning of my response; that after nineteen years of intentional solitude I’ll finally be kissed.

He closes his eyes, leaning closer. My heart thumps vigorously in my chest as his mouth nears and then moments later our lips touch.

A groan instantly slips from my mouth as the sensation of his kiss spirals through my entire body. It only gets worse when he slides his tongue between my lips and I open my mouth, letting him in, tangling my tongue with his and tracing the tip along his tongue ring.

His hands skim around to my waist and he backs me up until my back is pressed up against the wall. His firm chest crushes against mine as he tilts my body back, holding onto me, while he explores my mouth with his tongue. Breathy noises keep fleeing from my mouth and deep throaty groans keep escaping from his.

“Ember…” he whispers as his mouth leaves mine. He starts making a path of soft kisses down my jawline, to the arch of my neck, and my head falls to the side as he approaches my collarbone and his teeth gaze my skin.

“Oh my God…” I clutch onto his shoulders for support, wanting more—needing more.

When he reaches the top of my shirt, I bow my back, letting him know what I want. His fingers glide up the front of me, over my ribs and breast, and when he reaches my collar, he pulls it down along with my bra, exposing my breast. Seconds later, his mouth is wrapped around my nipple, licking, nipping at it, the cold metal of his lip clipping my skin and adding to the exhilaration pulsating through my body. I want to brace myself as my knees start to buckle, but all I can do is thread my fingers through his hair and hold onto him as I fall. His hands grip my sides, holding me up and then one of them slips between my knees. His palm glides upward and when he arrives at the top of my leg, he begins rubbing his hand back and forth, driving my body and mind crazy.

“Asher, what are you doing?” a male voice crushes the moment.

Our eyes snap open and before he backs away, he slides my shirt and bras back over my breast. Luckily, we’re hidden behind the easel; otherwise, the professor would have gotten a full view of what we were doing.

Professor Morgan, the art professor, is standing by his desk with a confounded look on his face. He’s in his mid-forties, with chestnut brown hair and hazel eyes and he wears a lot of cargo pants and polo shirts, smeared with charcoal, paint, clay—any art supply, really.

“Oh, hi there, Ember.” He sets a stack of artwork down on his corner desk. “Have you seen Raven this morning? She usually comes in here to work on stuff, but I haven’t seen her. I have a couple of questions about the last painting she turned it. I want to talk to her before I have to start my first class.”

“I think she’s running late,” I say and then press my swollen lips together.

“Oh, I see.” His gaze flicks to Asher and something in his eyes makes me want to leave. “Do you know if she’s