Chapter 27
EVANGELINE
Ipeek my eyes open, waking up gently. It’s like coming to after being in a tranquil, meditative state. My first deep inhale brings me a few ticks closer to consciousness. Everything feels lighter this morning.
I slept so well last night.
I slept, and I truly rested, because I was wrapped up in Alaric’s arms.
With heavy eyelids, I tuck my chin and admire the way his muscled, hair-dusted forearm encircles my waist. His hold on me was steady all night long.
Technically, nothing happened between us, like he promised. As strongly as I desire him, his conviction is also sexy as hell.
A man who says what he means and does what he says? I’m lying in bed with an anomaly. I don’t take a single second of time with him for granted.
Not wanting this moment to end, I steady my breathing and work to remain still.
Because whatever this is? It’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced with another person. There’s bone-deep comfort knowing I can be myself with this man. There’s no need for pretense or pretending. No need to apologize or to mask how I really feel at any given moment.
And to think it was our initial horrifically embarrassing interaction that created the foundation for what’s happening now.
The man found me flat on my back in total meltdown mode in the middle of his driveway, and he didn’t send me away. Then in Australia, I found myself sobbing in his arms and snotting all over his shirt.
I’ve inadvertently shown him the messiest parts of me over the last few weeks.
Despite seeing me at my worst, he stayed.
He stayed, and he keeps coming back for more.
Though we’ve spent little time together, I’ve learned already that I don’t have to mask in front of him. Nor do I have to pretend like I have it all together. My only real worry where Alaric is concerned is whether he feels this attraction as deeply as I do.
He insists he wants more, but is his version of more aligned with the intensity of my desire?
As if he can sense the direction of my thoughts, he shifts behind me, subtly flexing his fingers, pressing each one into the fleshy curve of my hip.
He’s awake.
I hold my breath, fully prepared for him to let go, roll over, and start his day.
Instead, he remains where he is. The two of us stay like this, neither so much as breathing. If I had to guess, he’s trying to gauge whether I’m awake.
Eventually, he shifts, pulling my lower half into his body and curling around me in a protective hold.
It’s bliss.
It’s everything.
I don’t want him to let go. In fact, I want more, and I want it now. I’m even willing to risk rejection to see how far I can push him.
After all, I agreed to “just sleep” last night. I didn’t make any promises about this morning.
With a slight tilt of my hips, I press my ass against his groin, giving his hard length an inviting graze.
His breath hitches. His hold on my hip tightens.
We’re on a precipice, the stifling attraction between us making it hard to breathe.
Brazenly, my voice crackling from sleep, I whisper, “Take what you want, Alaric.”
Silently I add, please let what you want be me.
He flexes his fingers along my side, slipping them beneath the waistband of my pajamas. The point of contact between each of his fingertips and the bare skin stretched over my hip is an electric current of confirmation.
He wants this.
We both do.
I hold my breath again, desperate to see what he’ll do next.
The anxious, self-conscious part of my brain steels itself for disappointment.
Last night he made me promise we would just sleep, so there is a good chance he’ll say no.
And I need to honor his boundary. I need to keep it together if he rejects me outright or feeds me the same tired lines we often exchange.
Rather than retreat, his fingers dip lower, caressing my skin, silently confirming, I think, that he’s as eager to do more than “just sleep” as I am.
Hoping like hell I don’t scare him off, I open my legs, offering better access, then quickly grasp his wrist. When he doesn’t pull back, I trace my fingernails down his knuckles, relishing the sinewy, strong, masculine muscles of his hand.
Heart rate hammering like the wings of a hummingbird, I move our hands down my body, inch by painstakingly inch, gliding him toward my core.
Neither of us speaks.
But then he freezes.
Worry lances through me, second thoughts bombarding me. How far should I push? How much am I willing to risk?
As if he can sense the war raging in my mind, he leans closer and whispers in my ear. “Don’t overthink it. As long as you’re sure—”
“So sure,” I rush to reply.
“Are you going to help me?” he teases, dipping lower to explore. The tips of his fingers caress my core through the thin fabric of my panties, the featherlight touch practically electrocuting me with pleasure.
These fucking hands. I’ve wanted them on me for so long. I can hardly believe this is really happening.
When he methodically swirls the tip of one finger around my entrance, creating delicious friction with the fabric of my underwear, my hips buck of their own volition. The spark of indulgence has me tightening my grip on his hand.
“I get the sense you don’t need any help.” Rolling my hips, I chase his touch, eager for him to do that again.
He smiles against my neck. “I want to learn exactly what you like and how you like it, Evangeline. Teach me.”
Teach him how I like to get off?
With pleasure.
Literally.
“If at any time you want me to stop, or you change your mind, or—”
“I won’t.” I tighten my hold on his hand. Is he the one having second thoughts?
“It’s an everlasting offer, angel. I want to establish this for us right now. You say stop, and I stop. You need a break, and we take a break. You drive me wild. You turn me on more than anyone ever has. I’m feral for you, but I need you to know you’re always in control.”
“Thank you,” I murmur, unexpected emotion crescendoing inside me. This man’s deep concern for my well-being never ceases to amaze me. “The same goes for you.”
Consent goes both ways. He can tell me no whenever, wherever.
“Will this be enough?” He taps my panty-covered clit and drags one finger over the thin fabric, creating more friction against my core.
No, I want to scream.
Except that would be a lie. While I want more—I want it all where he’s concerned—my body is a live wire. I’m certain he can get me off without even dipping into my panties.
“I’ll take whatever you give me, Alaric. Please,” I beg, the neediness in my veins sending tingly tension through every limb.
He strokes my clit over the fabric again, then circles the sensitive bundle of nerves, finding a rhythm. Heat and friction come together, fueling my pleasure, pushing me toward inevitable combustion. Little spasms fire off in warning.
He slows his pace, and my frantic breathing subsides.
Alarm bells sound in my head. Why did he stop? Doesn’t he know—
“You deserve the deepest, most satisfying release,” he says into my ear. “I won’t edge you without your consent, but I want to make this first time last.”
With a shuddering breath, I nod my agreement. I don’t want this to be over anytime soon. Luckily, he had the foresight to draw it out, because with the way I’m feeling right now, I wouldn’t be able to resist chasing the orgasm just out of my reach.
“Use me, angel.” He splays his fingers wide, gripping my center, causing my pussy to flood with desire.
He doesn’t have to tell me twice.
With my hand over top of his, I guide him a little lower. Once he’s brushing against my entrance, I twist my hips to grant him better access.
With two of his fingers positioned at my opening, I thrust up, and when they breach my hole, I moan.
He’s inside me.
It’s just the tips of his fingers, and there’s still a barrier between us, but I swear I could come just knowing he’s there.
I thrust up again.
Whimpering, I lower my ass to the bed. He takes over, setting a demanding rhythm, shallowly finger-fucking into me as far as the fabric between us will allow.
As warmth pools in my core, I close my eyes, letting myself get lost in the moment.
“Harder, please,” I choke out. I’m wound tight already. Hell, I was close before we even started. Forget gentle strokes and light caresses—I need him to take control.
In response, he braces me against his frame and plunges his fingers into me as deep as my panties allow. The friction is exquisite. His consistency is perfect. My underwear must be completely ruined by now, but in this moment, I can’t find it in me to care.
“Fuck, the way you grip me even through the fabric is driving me wild,” he murmurs, his lips warm on my neck. “I can’t wait to be inside you for the first time. I’m going to fill you completely, and you’re going to take every inch for me, won’t you?”
I nod frantically as he presses his length into my ass.
“Say it, angel. Tell me how much you want me.”
“You’re all I want,” I confess between breaths. “Every inch of you. Inside me. Filling me up. I want you to fuck me and fill me and use me until I can’t take any more.”
With a groan against my ear, he nips at the delicate skin of my neck, and when he extends his thumb and presses it into my clit, I hit my peak, a cry rushing out of me.
Pleasure crashes over me and around me, ecstasy rolling through me in forceful waves.
Alaric maintains pressure, giving me what I need to extend my orgasm. In his arms, I savor every delicious spasm until they ebb into spontaneous tingles.
When I finally stop pulsating, he pulls me back into his body, arranging me where he wants me and cocooning me in his arms.
He brushes my hair behind one ear and plants a soft kiss on my neck.
“You are sensational,” he whispers. “Thank you for trusting me to get you there.”
I can’t fight back my grin. This man is thanking me when he’s the one who got me off? I turn in his arms, peeking up at him through my lashes.
We’re practically nose to nose now, his warm brown eyes flooded with adoration. “Beautiful,” he murmurs, kissing my forehead.