Chapter 30
“Make sure she finishes first.”
— Nia Quill’s List
Maddox’s entire body goes stiff as the stones beneath us. As much as I’d love to pretend the past is behind us, the time has come to clear the air.
“Why did you make up some false woman?” I ask.
I have a feeling I already know but want to hear his reasoning to be certain.
Maddox’s long exhale ruffles his hair, the ends curling ever so slightly from the dampness that plagues this tiny cavern. “I panicked. You called me grotesque, and I felt so foolish for desiring someone as beautiful as you. I did not wish for you to laugh at my desire.”
Does he really think me so callous?
What am I saying? I was callous in throwing such insults in his face when all he ever did was show me kindness and affection.
He rubs mindlessly at a smudge of dirt clinging to his bare ankle.
“After I told you my heart belonged to another, you started looking at me differently, like my presence did not irritate you as much. Then you offered to help me, and I knew it would be a way to spend time with you.” His hand drops and head lifts, the onyx pools of his eyes capturing mine.
“I have craved your smile and laughter since I first saw you in the square. I know my lie has made me an untrustworthy male, but if there is any way to make it up to you, say the word, and I will do it.”
There’s so much to unravel in that statement, but what feels most important at present is acknowledging my own mistakes and lies, my own role in this deception, the falsehoods that set this path in motion.
“I never thought you were grotesque. When you teased me about blueberry pie, I stayed up all night thinking about it . . . and you. The day at the quarry, you caught me right after Nolan told me he no longer wanted to fix our broken relationship.” After he accused me of wanting to sleep with Maddox.
I swallow past the growing lump in my throat, not for the loss of what was but for the way I treated the kindest man I’ve ever known.
“You always looked so happy to see me, and I didn’t want to get your hopes up. So I decided to dash them.”
“Thoughts of me have kept you awake?”
“Yes.” Since we’re revealing our truths, I add, “On quite a few occasions.” I may have borrowed Kerris’s book on the Unseelie and read the tome from cover to cover. Twice.
Once the well was open for the Unseelie to use any day of the week, I may also have lingered in the square to watch Maddox collect water.
I never allowed myself to acknowledge these instances for what they were because doing so felt disloyal to Nolan. I was only looking, after all.
And dreaming.
No one can control their dreams. Was it my fault my subconscious seemed stuck on this man?
If only I’d realized sooner that Nolan Graham hadn’t deserved my loyalty.
Maddox sits back, his brow furrowed as he takes in all I have shared. “You say the Nolan dismissed your love at the quarry?”
I nod. “Our relationship has been on the rocks since Kerris was arrested.”
“So every time I asked about the two of you . . .”
“I lied about that as well.”
“Ha!”
“Did you just laugh at me?”
His grin grows, and he claps his hands together. “I am not the only liar in this cave.”
“That’s not a good thing, Maddox.” The exhaustion must be finally getting to him. The poor man has officially lost his mind.
“You are not going to marry the Nolan, and you think I am handsome. These are very good things.”
“But I lied to you. You have every right to be upset with me.”
“I could never be upset with you.”
“You shouldn’t forgive me so easily. I said terrible, awful things.”
“That were not true.”
“Yes, but . . . that’s not the point. Don’t you want to make me feel bad for treating you so horribly?”
He shrugs. “I only ever want to make you happy.”
Tears prick my eyes. “Stop being so bloody nice to me.” I don’t deserve it.
“This I cannot do. If anything, I will be even nicer.”
I scrub at my cheeks even as I fight a smile of my own. “You are ridiculous.”
He eases forward, his breath fanning across my neck as he whispers, “You like it.”
He’s right. I like it very much. Almost as much as I like the way he starts trailing his finger down my arm.
“You are cold?” His question is whispered low against my collarbone.
These chills have nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with the Unseelie fae so near, I can smell the rain on his green skin.
Need rushes through my blood like the river raging outside our haven. Pounds in my pulse like the heavy raindrops assaulting the stone ledge.
“No, I’m not.”
He draws back a fraction, his gaze slipping down my throat to the goosebumps on my arms, stopping at the stiff peaks of my breasts pushing against the thin fabric of my bra. “Nia Quill . . .” He clicks his tongue. “I think you are lying.”
Lifting my hand, I trace the sharp edge of his jaw. His cheekbones. The bow of his lip. So incredibly soft when the rest of his body is hard as the walls of this cliff.
He makes no move to close the distance between us, no move at all. I’m not even sure the man is breathing. He certainly isn’t blinking as he stares into my eyes, his pupils blown wide.
“How would you kiss Gia Gill?” I whisper.
His lips graze my fingers when they flatten. “Gia Gill does not exist.”
A good thing, because if she did, I’d have to poison her. I drag my fingers over his mouth once more, pressing my body closer to his heat. “Humor me.”
His forehead meets mine before he dips in for the softest phantom of a kiss, fueled by months of longing.
It’s not enough. Not at all. “I won’t break,” I murmur against his parted lips.
He draws back, his dark eyes searching.
There’s a beat of question.
A spark of realization.
And then he launches forward, binding his mouth to mine, gripping the back of my head with both hands, his fingers tangling in my matted hair as he parts my lips with his tongue and licks into my mouth.
Holy heavens . . .
The feel of his rough tongue dragging across mine forces my thighs to press together. He’s as eager as he is enthusiastic, a heady combination.
He traces his fingers down my spine to the line of my undergarments and back up again, callouses igniting my skin as he makes his way over my ribs to my chest. He drags a knuckle over the stiffened peak once. Twice.
I arch my back toward him, begging for more of these sensual touches. “There’s not much there.”
Sharp teeth graze the column of my throat. “You are perfection.”
With him touching me like this, I feel perfect.
I slide the straps of my bra down my arms, until the entire thing falls around my waist. Maddox traces the patch of pale skin where no sun has ever touched, then drags his finger over the pebbled tip. “So pink.”
The wonder in his voice makes me giggle. I suppose he wasn’t expecting that considering his own are a darker shade of green than the rest of him.
Leaning down, he latches onto my breast, his sandpaper tongue flicking like he’s been made to do this. Just enough of a rasp to drive me wild. To drive me clean out of my skin, clutching him against me, never wanting him to move.
“What about number eight?” he murmurs against my breast.
What is he talking about? At the moment, I couldn’t even count to eight—
“How do I help you finish first?”
The list. He’s asking about the list.
Thank heavens I got drunk and added that one.
Our conversation that day in the garden comes flooding back. “I thought you had helped females spill many seeds.”
Eager hands cup my chest while he trails kisses along my collarbone. Nipping. Licking. Sucking. “That was another lie. I have never been chosen.”
All the women in his clan must be fools. Their loss is my gain.
Parting my knees, I turn so my back is pressed to his chest and urge his hand between my thighs.
His thick fingers glide lower, finding my center.
“Stroke just there,” I say. “Not too hard. Just like that.” Just like that.
My head falls back to his shoulder, and I lose myself to every delicious sensation.
“So slick and wet,” he murmurs.
“That’s what you do to me.”
His hand stills as he blinks down at where his green skin butts up against my tanned thigh. “Me?”
Why does he sound so shocked? “You were just licking and kissing me. What did you think would happen?”
“Me,” he says again, a slow smile creeping across his lips. A flash of sharp teeth. Dark eyes crinkling at the corners.
I nod.
His fingers move faster against me, and I lose myself to his frantic rhythm. To his wonder. To the heady feeling of pleasure coiling low in my belly. Tightening. Tightening and . . .
Shattering. Exploding. Sweeping me away.
He nudges my knickers aside, teasing his fingers against my opening, a throaty growl rumbling from his chest. “I can feel you pulsing.” His strokes turn slow. Lazy. “You are the most glorious female.”
Maybe we don’t need to work on his compliments after all.
Turning my face into his neck, I press a kiss to his thundering pulse. “Looks like you can mark number eight off your list.”
His body vibrates with his chuckle. I register his stiffness against my backside. Every glorious, rigid inch. When I reach for him, he catches my wrist with a shake of his head. “Not this night.”
“Why not?”
“The nettle stings . . .”
Bollocks. I completely forgot about the damn nettles. “I’m sorry, Maddox.”
“Why do you apologize for giving me the best day of my life?”
“The best day?” Really? “You were stung by thorny nettles and then almost swept away in a flood and drowned.” I’d hate to see the man on what he considers to be a bad day.
Maddox smiles and then kisses the tip of my nose. “The only flood that swept me away this day is yours.”