Chapter 22
EDDIE
We were both rather tense, and there was no denying it. Ever since I’d received the summons to return to the UK for Christmas, we’d both been on edge. Not short with each other, but strangely nervous and constantly aware of that ticking clock, that countdown.
It bothered me, especially knowing that once we were in the UK, we wouldn’t be able to see each other for the entire fortnight we were there. It would be utter hell, and I needed to feel that connection to him before we left.
I wanted him to make love to me again.
We hadn’t done that, not since our first time. At first, I’d been too sore, and then that call had come, bringing that tension. We’d exchanged hand jobs and blow jobs, but nothing more. Bash was holding back, maybe waiting on a signal from me, I wasn’t entirely certain.
So a week before we had to leave, as we were lounging on the sofa after dinner, I made my move. Maybe one day, I would be better at this. More natural, smoother, more subtle. But for now, I would simply ask for what I wanted and accept the accompanying awkwardness. “Can we go to bed early tonight?”
Bash raised one eyebrow at me. “Any particular reason?”
“It’s our last week here.” I felt heat crawl up my neck. “I want to be with you.”
His brown eyes softened and reached for my hand, running his thumb over my knuckles. “I want that, too.” He kissed my hand. “Let’s clean up so we can take our time.”
I suppressed a smile. Of course he wanted to do the washing up first. He couldn’t bear a mess, this man, and I adored him for it.
The domesticity of clearing plates and rinsing forks made me ache with wanting all the more.
I watched the way Bash’s hands worked in the sudsy water, the flex of forearm as he wiped down the counter and I drank it in greedily, knowing I wouldn’t see it again for weeks.
When we were done, he reached for me, and I went willingly, letting out a happy little sigh when his arms locked around me. “I will miss you,” he said softly. “Let me show you how much.”
“Yes, please…”
He kissed me, slow and full, his hand cradling the back of my head. I melted into it, letting him take the lead. Our mouths learned each other over and over, as if we hadn’t spent countless hours already mapping every millimeter.
We kissed our way to the bedroom, where he helped me take off my jumper, then knelt in front of me to slide my trousers down my legs, taking my underwear with them at the same time. One by one my socks came off, and I stood naked before him.
He rose and kissed me again. “So goddamn beautiful.”
I helped him undress, my heart speeding up with every glorious bit of skin I revealed. All those muscles, the faint scars here and there, his smooth chest, those strong thighs… The man was a work of art, a Greek god, and I wanted to worship him properly.
He pulled me close so that our sides touched, bare skin meeting bare skin.
Even after all these weeks, the first press of us always sent a shiver straight through me.
He was so much warmer than me, always a few degrees hotter, as if he were still trained to sleep in subzero climates.
Even now, in our overheated room, he radiated comfort.
Bash reached up, threaded his fingers into my hair, and pulled me down for another long, unhurried kiss.
He took his time, mapping my mouth like a man plotting safe passage through enemy territory—gentle, patient, relentless, with an underlying hunger that belied his carefulness.
I wanted to melt into him, to fuse myself to every inch of skin we had to spare.
We walked backward, then tumbled onto the bed, where he pulled me gently across his lap, and I straddled him, knees braced awkwardly on the mattress.
A little laugh bubbled out of me—my body always felt ungainly, too many sharp angles and not enough grace, but the adoration I saw in Bash’s eyes made it clear he disagreed.
Bash’s hands found my waist, fingers splayed wide, the rough of his calluses catching on my skin.
He kept kissing me, held my face between his hands and kissed me like he was memorizing something essential, something he might lose.
We’d done this before, more times than I could count, but each time Bash found some new way to drive me out of my body: a hand tracing up my ribs, a bite to the edge of my jaw, a low hum of approval that vibrated against my tongue and rattled straight down my spine.
He broke away only to kiss a trail across my cheek, jaw, the place just below my ear that made me shudder. I dropped my head, giving him space, letting myself feel. His hands drifted lower, kneading the muscles of my arse, and I bucked into him.
Bash smiled into my neck, teeth grazing lightly against the skin. The sound he made was barely a growl, but it sent bolts of electricity straight to my core. “Want me to…?”
I nearly laughed at the tentative edge in his voice. This man could snap me in half with a look, but when it came to this, to us, he never made assumptions. “I want you inside me.”
With a happy, low hum deep in his chest, he rolled me onto my back, slow but definitive, so our positions reversed.
I let myself sink into the mattress. For a long moment, he just looked at me—like he was trying to memorize every angle, every mole, every flaw I’d spent years wishing away.
Then, with a gentleness that always amazed me, he started to work down my body—kissing my throat, the hollow under my jaw, the ridge of my collarbone.
He paused there, resting his chin just above my heart.
“You’re so beautiful,” he told me again.
His eyes were dark, but his voice was so impossibly soft, like a caress all its own.
He ducked his head to kiss across my chest, pausing to suck at my nipples, one then the other. It was hardly fair how fast he could undo me, every brush of his tongue making my hips jump off the sheets.
I shifted under him, restless, all my skin waking up at once. My cock was already hard, caught half against my stomach, but Bash seemed in no hurry to attend to it. Instead, he worshipped his way down my chest, kindling a sweet, hot ache inside me.
I writhed, unable to stay still, and he laughed into my skin, the vibrations doing rather wicked things to my self-control. He slid down, licking a slow line along my ribs, then nipped at my hip. The air between us was elastic, every second stretched to near snapping.
“Bash…”
He braced himself above my stomach. “I love when you say my name like that.” His accent went rough, and he sounded almost shy. “Drives me pretty much insane.”
My cheeks heated all over again.
His hand caught me under the knee, bending my leg up, and he pressed a fluttering kiss to the inside of my thigh.
Then he shifted, quick and certain, and before I could catch my breath, he was mouthing down the sensitive crease.
I shivered, watching his broad shoulders move as he nosed between my legs, nipping and licking—lazy, exploratory, lulling me into gasping submission.
My cock, so painfully hard now, jerked each time he so much as breathed on it.
He kissed the crease of my thigh again, then the soft skin at the base, then flicked his tongue along the length of me, top to bottom.
At the first contact, I nearly choked on my own breath, a full-body shudder rolling through me like the aftershock of a bomb.
I tangled my fingers in his hair, desperate for something to cling to.
His lips closed around the head, and he sucked, gentle at first, teasing the slit with his tongue, never giving me more than a shallow press.
It was like he meant to undo me by degrees, not all at once.
Each new flick or swirl was unpredictable—sometimes soft, sometimes a sharp edge of teeth, never enough for me to settle into expectation.
Then he took me in fully, mouth hot and wet, and the suddenness of it made me see white. He set a steady rhythm, bobbing his head, one hand braced on my hip, the other holding my thigh apart so I couldn’t close it even if I tried.
Just when I was certain I would lose control, he let me go.
Bash excelled at multitasking, I’d noticed that before, and he proved it again as he kept caressing me with one hand while fishing for supplies with the other.
Lube appeared, then a condom. I stared at it, then swallowed. “Must we… Do we need them?”
He stilled as he met my eyes. “You want to go bare?”
“You know you’re my first. And you said you tested negative on your last test.”
“I did. I’m…” He was uncharacteristically uncertain for a moment. “I’d love that.”
The condom disappeared again, and warmth filled me. I loved this man. I loved him so much, and I didn’t want anything between us, not even that thin barrier.
What I wanted was his mouth back on me. I wanted him all over me, wanted him inside me so badly, it left me speechless.
Bash seemed to sense that, because he wasted no time in slicking his fingers and teasing at my entrance.
He didn’t start slow, didn’t hesitate—one finger, then two, turning me into a writhing mess in a matter of seconds.
If anyone could’ve seen me, they’d never have recognized the prince.
I was all need, clutching at the sheets to keep from going completely mad.
When he pressed in the third finger, that sweet stretch was almost more than I could take.
I moaned into the crook of my elbow, embarrassed by how much I wanted it, by how much I needed him.
Every time he crooked his fingers just right, a shockwave rattled me from the inside out. I was shaking already, arse lifted off the bed as he opened me up, and I had no idea how I’d manage to survive the main event.
He waited until I made eye contact, until he could see the pleading in my gaze, before he lined up at my entrance. “Ready?”