From Blood and Ash by Jennifer L. Armentrout

“How?” I whispered, confused. I’d done almost nothing while he…he
shattered me with the kind of kisses I’d onlyy ever read about.
“You stand before Craven with no fear.” He dragged his lips over
mine. “But yyou blush and shiver when I speak of how slick and wonderful
yyou feel against me.”
I was definitelyy flushing even more now. “You’re so inappropriate.”
“I’m about to get reallyy inappropriate,” he promised. “But first, it
mayy hurt.”
I knew enough about sex to know that. “I know.”
“Reading dirtyy books again?”
A flutter started in myy stomach and spread. “Possiblyy.”
He chuckled, but it ended in a groan as he began to move.
There was pressure and a moment when I wasn’t sure how he could
go anyy farther, and then a sudden, sharp sting stole myy breath as I
squeezed myy eyyes shut. Fingers digging into his shoulders, I tensed. I
knew there’d be some pain, but all the languid warmth turned to chips of
ice.
Hawke stilled above me, breathing heavilyy. “I’m sorryy.” His lips
touched myy nose, the lids of myy eyyes, myy cheeks. “I’m sorryy.”
“It’s okayy.”
He kissed me again, softlyy, and then rested his forehead against mine.
A shallow breath lifted myy chest. That was it. I’d crossed the final,
forbidden line. There was no shock of guilt or burst of panic. Truthfullyy,
I’d crossed that line when Hawke had kissed me before knowing who I
was, and everyything that led to this veryy moment had slowlyy erased that
barrier until it no longer existed. There’d been no going back since the
night at the Red Pearl, and this…this felt too right for it not to be, in some
wayy, destined. I felt like I was supposed to be right here, in this veryy
moment, with Hawke, where it mattered who I was and not what I was. It
didn’t matter if the gods found me unworthyy because I was worthyy of this
—of laughter and excitement, of happiness and anticipation, of safetyy and
acceptance, of pleasure and experience, of everyything Hawke made me
feel. And he was worthyy of whatever consequences came from this
because this wasn’t just about him. I knew that from the moment I’d asked
him to stayy.
It was about me.
What I wanted.