Chapter Twenty-Four #4
“Perfect for you.” She canted her hips to take him deeper, gasping when he hit a spot inside her that made sparks dance over her skin.
She could almost believe the words when she spoke them—here, locked away from the outside world, nothing between them, Mavis felt like they belonged together.
That had been the trouble five years before, when she mistook the physical pull of him for something more.
She knew better now, but when he began to move, withdrawing from her almost entirely before plunging back in, she felt herself forgetting all over again.
“Yes,” she cried out, wrapping her legs around his waist, her heels digging into his hips as he thrust into her again and again, whispering filthy promises in her ear that she desperately wanted him to keep.
Each stroke wound her tighter, pitched her higher, until she was nothing more than need, her fingernails digging into his back, her body writhing beneath his, sounds spilling from her lips—some words, others utter nonsense, though even that Arden seemed to understand.
“You ruined me.” He punctuated each word with a thrust of his hips.
His mouth captured hers in a kiss that threatened to consume her.
“Every part of me. Five years and I couldn’t look at another woman with anything more than apathy, I couldn’t—” He gave a shuddering breath, hot against her cheek.
“I couldn’t enjoy a pint of ale or a stroll through the park on a sunny day. All I could do was long for you.”
The words burrowed beneath Mavis’s skin, making her ache for him in a new way—she wanted to go back five years and .
. . and do what? She couldn’t trace that thought, couldn’t linger on regrets.
Not now, when she had him inside of her again, making her feel like the last five years hadn’t happened at all.
“You hated me,” she whispered despite herself, curling her body around his as if she could cling to this moment forever.
“No, never that.” He smoothed his hand down her wild mess of red curls, brushing them away from her face so she couldn’t hide from him. “Hate would have been preferable, but I loved you so much I felt it would kill me.”
The words punctured Mavis’s haze of lust, but before she could latch on to them, his other hand reached between them, finding the spot above their joining and brushing the pad of his thumb over her, and her thoughts scattered.
“Gods of Old, Arden,” she said, before she could stop herself. “I loved you too.”
His eyes flared hotter. “And now?” He dropped his head to her breasts, sucking one stiff peak into his mouth.
She tried to keep the words inside—really, she did—but Arden knew her body better than she did. He knew she was close to climax, too desperate to tumble over to care about what came out of her mouth.
“I love you still.” Her hands tangled in his hair to hold him firmly to her. “I never stopped.”
He hadn’t expected that—his hips stuttered, losing the rhythm he’d found, but then all too soon he was moving again, desperation stripping away the last vestiges of restraint.
“Tell me you’re mine,” he demanded.
“I’m yours,” she said, this time not hesitating. She would tell him whatever he asked of her right now, so long as he didn’t stop. “Arden, please.”
She was so far gone she didn’t even know what she was begging for, but Arden did. He shifted within her, hitching one of her legs higher on his waist and changing the angle of his thrusts, his thumb swirling over her with renewed vigor.
“I’ve got you, Mavis.”
It was hearing her name on his lips that did it—the knowledge that this wasn’t like before, when he thought she was someone else.
He knew exactly who she was and wanted her still.
Wanted her more. Pleasure fractured out from the very center of her, making her legs shake and her hips undulate against his, drawing him deeper like she might keep him there forever.
With a curse, he just managed to pull out before following her over the edge and collapsing beside her, his face buried in her shoulder.
“I love you, Mavis,” he murmured. “You’re mine and I’m yours. Nothing else matters but this.”
They were pretty words, Mavis thought, staring up at the painted ceiling above her bed, the white billowing clouds against the blue background—too perfect, too bright to be real.
“Mavis?”
She heard the uncertainty in Arden’s voice, the undercurrent of doubt that was all too familiar, and the truth she’d been too lost in her own pleasure to see finally sank in.
Arden loved her, yes, and if he knew about the threat Thaddeus Mayles had hung over her head, he was naive and noble enough to throw his life away to try and save her. She couldn’t let him.
“Stay with me, Arden.” She stretched her spent body over the silk duvet, feeling his gaze heat again as she slipped beneath it.
A moment later, he was sliding in beside her, pulling her body against his so that her cheek was resting on his bare chest just above his heart.
She listened to its steady beat and reveled in the gentle stroke of his fingers over her bare back.
He fell asleep quickly, his breaths even and deep, but Mavis laid awake for a long time, her thoughts too busy to join him there.