Chapter 33
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
“Ye look like shite,” Marissa said, her eyes roving over Arthur.
It wasn’t true. He actually looked rugged and handsome. There was a small slash in his brow, one that she was fairly certain was going to scar. And it gave him a roguish look that she quite liked.
“Ye dinnae look ravishin’ yerself,” he grunted. But his lips curled into a smirk, letting her know how much of a lie that was.
She moved about, shifting against the pillows at her back so she could get a better look at him.
After the healer had examined her, he’d ordered her to bed. And while he’d tended to Arthur, she’d made quick work of washing up before doing exactly what the man had ordered.
The tonic he’d given her had been incredibly mild. Just enough to take the sharp sting of the aches and pains away, while leaving her the rest of her mental fortitude. But she’d been more than happy to use it as an excuse to settle down with her favorite book while she waited for Arthur.
Now that he stood before her, she found that she did not know what to say.
“Thank ye,” she finally muttered, the words sounding flat as they fell from her lips.
They weren’t enough, she knew that. What Arthur had done for her today was more than she could ever comprehend, let alone repay.
He had fought off ten men for her. Granted, he had also fought them because he hadn’t had a choice. They would have killed him if he hadn’t. But still.
The moment he had finished with them, he had chased after her. He had tracked her, hunted down the man who had threatened her, hurt her, and terrorized her for years. And he had ended him.
It was more than she could wrap her head around.
“What are ye thankin’ me for?” Arthur asked, walking toward the edge of the bed.
The mattress sank beneath his weight as he sat on it, and Marissa shifted against the pillows so she was fully sitting up.
Now that he was closer, she could see that he had taken the time to wash up, too. The blood that had caked his skin was gone entirely, as was the dirt.
A bandage was wrapped around his forearm, barely peaking out from beneath the sleeve of what she now realized was a clean shirt.
“How bad are yer injuries?” she asked, ignoring his question entirely.
“Nothin’ more than a few scratches,” Arthur answered with a shrug. “I’ve had much worse. Now, what were ye thankin’ me for?”
Marissa sighed. He was not going to allow her to ignore that question, that much was certain.
“I was thankin’ ye for savin’ me,” she said simply, ducking her head so as not to meet his eyes.
She stared at her hands, steepling her fingers. The mattress shifted, and a moment later, Arthur’s hand came into view.
His thumb touched her chin, using it to guide her gaze to his. His grey eyes were regarding her with an emotion that she could not place, but his face was softer than she had ever seen it.
“I will always save ye.” Arthur emphasized every word, saying them slowly and deliberately as if to ensure she took in every bit of their meaning.
“It doesnae matter who throws themselves in our path, or what may come our way. There is never a life—nae the one we’re livin’ now or the one we’ll share in heaven—where I willnae save ye. ”
Something unfurled inside Marissa, her heart swelling.
“I never thought I would find that,” she said, gulping past a lump that had suddenly formed in her throat.
Arthur’s voice was soft when he spoke. “What do ye mean?”
He brushed a curl from her face, the warmth of his fingers as they grazed her cheek sending chills dancing over her skin.
“Me whole life, I’ve nae wanted to get married,” she explained. “But now, I cannae imagine wantin’ anythin’ more.”
Emotion bubbled up inside her, and she knew that it was something that could only be quenched by the feel of Arthur’s body on hers.
She moved quickly, likely faster than she should have, considering the injuries they had both sustained that day. But she did not care.
She hurled herself at Arthur, her arms wrapping around his neck as she pulled him to her. But, despite her advances, he hesitated.
“Are ye sure?” he asked. “Ye were injured today. I dinnae want to do anythin’ to ye that will make it worse.”
“I’m certain,” Marissa said, her voice filled with confidence. “The tonic the healer gave me did wonders, and the only thing I need right now is to feel alive. I need ye to make me feel alive.”
Arthur studied her face, but she knew that he would find no doubt there. She wanted him.
No. She needed him.
Marissa had never been more certain of anything in her life.
“If ye’re careful with me head,” she added, still trying to find a way to get what she so desperately wanted, “I think we’ll be just fine.”
Standing on her tiptoes, she softly pressed her lips to Arthur’s. His muscles tensed with his struggle to keep himself from fully unleashing on her. But she did not want that.
She kissed him again. His mouth moved against hers, albeit softly. But Marissa knew she would take what she could get.
Their lips remained pressed together, slowly moving in tandem. And eventually, Marissa allowed her hands to explore him. Her fingertips traced the backs of his arms, moving to caress the ridge of his spine.
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, their kiss began to deepen.
More. I need more.
Quickly, Marissa sucked his bottom lip into her mouth, biting down on it. Arthur hissed, his hands flexing against the small of her back as he pulled away to gaze down at her.
His eyes were burning, filled with a desire that echoed her own. She smirked at him.
And just like that, every bit of his resolve shattered.
The two of them fell back onto the bed, their mouths meeting in an explosion of love and passion. Marissa parted her knees for him as he climbed on top of her, their centers pressing together in a way that sent shivers through her entire body.
Their kiss broke, both of them panting as Arthur started to kiss down the line of her neck. It was desperate and needy and carnal, the way they pawed and clawed at each other.
Marissa fisted her hands in his shirt, quickly working to tug it over his head. At the same time, Arthur’s large hands pulled her dressing gown over her legs, bringing it up over her hips and exposing her lower half.
Sensing what he was doing, Marissa lifted herself, grabbed the hem of her dressing gown, and tugged it over her head. Her nipples pebbled the moment they met the cool air in their room, a breeze floating in through the open window opposite their bed.
By the time she had thrown her dressing gown across the room, Arthur had already discarded his kilt. She heard it hit the floor with a thud as he tossed it.
They collided once more, their bodies melding together perfectly. He pressed into her, and she could feel him hard and wanting at the apex of her thighs.
Marissa didn’t understand this need within her.
Up until now, she’d been perfectly content with the way they had explored each other’s bodies.
She’d loved the sensations that he’d been able to wrench out of her with his fingers and his tongue.
And she’d certainly loved the way he had come undone when she had taken him into her mouth.
But suddenly, thinking of any of those things was no longer enough. She needed more of him, needed to feel him inside her in a way that she hadn’t yet.
Arthur moved, his knees pushing against her thighs to open them wider. She could feel the tip of his manhood probing her entrance, and she knew without a shadow of a doubt that this was what she wanted.
No. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that this was what she needed.
“Please,” Marissa begged, her voice thick with need.
Arthur’s face contorted with desire, but he did not say anything else as his hips moved forward and he pushed into her.
There was a sharp, delicious pain, but it only lasted for a second as she felt him filling her. Inch after delicious inch he moved, so slowly that she thought she might burn from the inside with her need for more.
His hips stilled when he was fully seated inside her, and she stared up at him. Arthur’s grey eyes were shining as he looked down at her.
“Tell me what ye want,” he growled.
“I want ye to claim me,” she murmured. “I’m beggin’ ye to make me yers in all the ways that matter.”
That was all the permission Arthur needed before unleashing himself on her. He pulled his hips back, withdrawing almost entirely before driving himself back into her.
Marissa’s lips parted on a gasp, but then he bucked his hips again, stealing her breath entirely.
“Arthur!” she cried out, his name falling from her lips like a prayer.
Again and again, he pounded into her, winding her so tight she felt as if she was seconds from shattering.
Marissa had thought that she felt pleasure before. She’d been certain that there was nothing better than how he’d made her feel when he’d tasted her and explored her with his hands. But now she realized how much of a fool she had been.
Those moments had been nothing compared to this. Her core clenched as pressure began building low in her belly.
It coiled inside her, wrapping around itself tighter and tighter as it begged to be released. With each thrust of Arthur’s hips, it dragged her further and further into an abyss of pleasure, waiting for its moment to claim her entirely.
“Marissa,” Arthur growled, throwing back his head. “Marissa, Christ!”
And that was her undoing. Her name on his lips, the way he was coming undone at the squeeze of her thighs—it all pushed her over the edge.
She called out, but whether it was God’s name or Arthur’s, she did not know. All she knew was that she had become nothing more than a ball of pleasure.
Wave after wave of it crashed over her, her body wracked with spasms as each wave washed over her anew. Arthur’s thrusts became erratic, his breath coming in pants and gasps.
And then his hips stilled, and he cried out her name again. Something warm spilled deep inside her, filling her from the inside out as her body continued to shake.
She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t do anything but allow herself to be lost entirely in the waves washing over her.
Slowly, so very slowly, they began to subside. Her breath, which just a second before had been nothing more than soft, laborious pants, evened out.
Her heart, which had been beating so loudly that the sound of it had filled her ears, began to slow down. And her senses began to register everything else around her.
Arthur had collapsed on top of her, his head buried in her neck as he remained sheathed inside her. Their bodies were slick with sweat, and his breath tickled as it danced over her humid skin.
“I love ye,” he murmured, his lips tickling her as they moved.
She ran her hands up and down his back, luxuriating in the way his slick skin felt beneath her fingertips.
And despite how impossible it felt, after everything that had happened the last few days, there was no doubt in her mind as she opened her mouth and replied with the purest truth that she had ever known.
“I love ye, too.”