Chapter Twenty-Atlas
My entire body is trembling.
Not from arousal—though that’s there, fierce and undeniable—but from something deeper.
Rage. Grief. Awe.
Rage that anyone—anyone—would dare to make this woman feel less than the extraordinary force she is.
Grief that she ever believed them. That she ever doubted herself.
And awe—awe because she told me. Trusted me.
This woman is a goddess. A sharp-tongued, fire-eyed, fiercely guarded goddess—and she just laid her heart bare in my arms.
I don’t deserve it.
But God help me, I want to earn it.
“I-I understand this is just temporary,” she whispers against my skin, voice trembling but so damn brave. “But do you think, that is, will you kiss me?”
My control snaps.
Not violently.
Not harshly.
But with purpose.
I rise up and take her shoulders gently in my hands. She gasps as I pull her into my lap, straddling me.
That ridiculous slip of silk she’s wearing clings to her hips, already bunched high, baring her soft skin and the curve of her waist like she was made to sit like this—on top of me, in my arms, in my life.
She was.
I drag her face to mine, eyes locked with hers, and I don’t hesitate.
“No more talk of temporary,” I rasp. “No more talk of other men.”
Her breath catches.
“Tonight, there’s nothing but you and me.”
And then I kiss her.
Fuck, I devour her.
She tastes like citrus and cinnamon and something darker—something I’ll never name, because it belongs only to her.
She’s all soft lips and desperate sighs, fingers tightening in my hair as I lick into her mouth and claim her the way I’ve been aching to from the moment I first laid eyes on her.
There’s no pretending in this kiss.
No distance.
No mask.
It’s her. It’s me. It’s fire and thunder and something ancient that threatens to undo me.
She moans against my mouth, hips shifting, chasing more contact. And that sound—that sound—undoes me.
Desire surges through me like a stampede, wild and unstoppable. A herd of wild horses tearing through my veins.
I flex my hips, rubbing my steel cock against her core. Fuck, she is so warm, and wet. For me.
I can feel her arousal soaking through her panties. And it turns me on even more.
I kiss her deeper, my hands trailing down her back, over the curve of her ass, up her thighs. I grip her like she’s the only solid thing in my world.
Because right now?
She is.
I don’t stop. I can’t stop. Not tonight.
Not when she’s looking at me like I’m the thing her dreams are made of.
Not when every part of me is screaming to make her feel worshiped.
Wanted.
Chosen.
Loved.
She is. All of the above.
I can’t say it yet. Not that. But I can tell other truths. I can make her believe this is real.
So, I pull back just far enough to breathe, our foreheads pressed together, our chests rising and falling in sync.
“I want you,” I whisper. “Not because of some deal. Not because of your name or mine. I want you, Cecilia.”
She shudders, eyes wet and lips swollen from my kiss.
“Then take me,” she whispers.
She doesn’t have to ask twice.
“Move back. That’s it,” I instruct, moving so I’m lying flat on my back.
“Now, come here.”
“What?”
“I said come here, kardhoúla. Sit on my face so I can kiss you proper.”
Her pupils are blown wide and her mouth drops open.
She’s so fucking pretty. But if she doesn’t listen soon, I’m going to take the decision from her.
“Cece,” I warn.
And she blinks before she scrambles to obey, resting her plump ass on my chest as she looks at me expectantly.
I tug on the hem of her slip.
“Off. Now.”
She pulls the slip up but not off, and I’m so desperate to see her gorgeous dusky tipped breasts, the barbels glittering in the dark.
Christ, she is so beautiful. Sexy. Fine.
Tanned skin, so smooth and soft. Piercings shining like treasure. And her tattoos? Fucking divine.
Her sweet pussy is inches from where I want her, clothed in some sheer bit of fabric.
I’m not a patient man, and instead of asking, I take. I rip the elastic holding it in place, and I pull the fabric, watching as it glides across her sensitive flesh.
Her head falls back, and she moans.
So. Goddamn. Hot.
“So sexy, Cece. So goddamn tempting. Now, give me what’s mine,” I growl, no longer in control. “Sit on my face, Wife.”
She rises slightly, unsure.
But I don’t want her hesitant. I want her fearless.
And it’s like she can read my mind because the next thing she does is narrow her eyes, and then she moves with purpose, fingers through my hair as she presses her slick sex to my mouth.
Finally.
And now, I eat.