Chapter 39
ALARIC
We’re quiet on the ride home. I had the good sense to schedule a car, knowing the wine would be incredible. Between that and the tension thrumming between us, I’m unfit to operate a motor vehicle.
As we wind through the streets of Monaco, Evangeline watches the lights blur past.
I simply watch her.
She’s stunning, her beauty consuming me more with each passing second. From the elegant extension of her neck to the perfect slope of her nose, she’s a work of art, and it’s a privilege to be near her.
Then there’s her authenticity.
She talks about the way she processes the world around her like the approach is a hinderance, but honestly, her self-awareness is potent and formidable.
A genuine strength.
She’s proven to me that when she speaks, she’s telling me the truth.
It’s impressive how well she knows herself and how sure she is of what she wants.
Her candor is extraordinarily simple yet undeniably rare.
I’ve never met anyone like her. Not once have I caught myself wondering what she’s thinking or questioning how she really feels.
My desire to know her on an even deeper level—to fortify our connection and be the person she grows to rely on—is voracious.
To be needed and wanted by her is my ultimate dream.
I stroke the top of her hand softly. Not to force conversation but to remind her that I’m here.
As the car comes to a stop, she looks at me, blinking, as if startled to no longer be in motion.
“We’re home.”
She breaks into a soft smile, which I take as reassurance that I’m not coming on too strong. She wants to be here as much as I crave her company.
I help her out of the car, nodding to Nigel, the doorman, as he holds the door and tips his cap.
We’re quiet on the elevator ride up, and the silence continues as I unlock the door and usher her into the condo.
I gave her a quick tour when we arrived, but we had little time to do more than a rushed walkthrough before changing and heading out again.
This time, I lead her in slowly, and in the middle of the living room, I turn and pull her into my chest.
Her belongings are in the bathroom attached to the primary bedroom, and as much as I’d love for her to sleep in there with me, it’s been a long day. If she’s overstimulated or exhausted and would prefer to stay in one of the guest rooms, I’ll play it cool.
“Would you like to leave your bags in the primary, or would you like me to move them to a guest room? If you’d rather have your own space tonight—”
She takes my hand—easily, like it’s the most natural thing in the world—and with a slow shake of her head, she says, “I want to be where you are.”
Relief floods my veins. I want to be wherever she is, too.
Silently, I walk backward, pulling her toward the bedroom we’ll share for the week. As we cross the threshold, my chest constricts with anticipation.
“I haven’t felt this way about another person in a very long time,” I tell her, stopping at the foot of the bed.
It’s so much more than that, really. I’ve never felt this way about a person period. But it’s too early for that distinction.
“I adore you,” I tell her. “I cherish every moment we spend together, and I’m in awe of the person you are.”
Her chest rattles against mine as she sucks in a shaky inhale.
“I need you to remember that tonight. Because I’ve been dreaming of fucking you so hard and thoroughly that you may question just how kind and decent I really am.”
She pops up on her toes, wearing a wicked grin. “Challenge accepted, Mr. Steele. Make me question everything.”
Fire flares to life inside me. “Turn,” I command.
She obeys, and I quickly tug on the zipper of her dress, exposing her bare back and the top of her thong.
She’s not wearing a bra. I suspected as much at dinner, though that doesn’t dampen the thrill of this discovery. I slip my hands beneath the loosened fabric, skimming over her sides, then cupping her tits.
Brushing the pads of my thumbs over her pebbled nipples, I bring my mouth to her ear. “What would you like to do about protection?”
“I have an IUD,” she breathes. “I check it monthly. I was tested recently, too. All clear.”
I still at that confession, the reason behind why she recently sought testing a bitter reminder of what she’s endured and by whom.
Rather than dwell on the thought, rather than allow any type of distraction, I force my focus to her and her alone. I plan to fuck her so well she won’t be able to form sentences, let alone recall any man who came before me.
“I was tested at the end of last year and had clear results,” I tell her. “And I haven’t been with anyone since then.”
She tilts her head back, eyes locking with mine, and blows out a shuddering breath. “Do you want to fuck me bare?”
“Angel,” I tell her, my words thick with need, “I want nothing more than to slide into your perfect cunt and feel every inch of you clench around me bare. But only if you’re sure.”
“I’m sure,” she promises, tipping her chin back in search of my mouth.
As I bring my lips to hers, she opens for me, her tongue dancing with mine in a slow, heated harmony. I pinch her nipples, rolling the perfect buds, then graze one hand down the front of her body, brushing past the trimmed patch of hair on her mound, and possessively grip her sex.
Slick warmth coats my hand, the evidence of her arousal spurring me on.
Without breaking our kiss, I glide my fingers between her lips, letting her wetness coat my hand.
She trembles in my arms, rolling her hips back in search of more.
“Patience, angel.” Lifting my middle finger, I breach her entrance. “We’re just getting started.”
She whimpers, the sweet little sound inspiring ripples of pleasure to grip my insides.
With a shuddering breath of my own, I garner all my self-control, determined to make this night one she’ll never forget.
Locking an arm around her, bracing her against my body, I add another finger. Then I crook both in slow, tantalizing strokes.
“You’re so wet.” I latch on to her neck and trail kisses across her skin. “But you’re still wearing far too much clothing.”
She laughs, lifting an arm and shrugging down the strap of her dress, though when she tries to do the same on the other side, she tsks. “You’re going to have to move your hand if you want me out of this dress, Mr. Steele.”
I chuckle against her ear. “Want to bet?”
With a single tug on the strap over her shoulder, I tear the garment clean off her body.
She gasps as the lightweight material flutters down her frame and pools at her feet. “Did you just rip my dress?”
I shift around to face her, my hand still in place.
“I did. I’ll replace it, I swear. Now be a good girl and spread your legs wider. I can’t wait to taste you again.”
Breath hitching, she does as I ask.
I place a chaste kiss on her lips, then drop to my knees and position myself between her thighs.
“Perfection,” I murmur, brushing my nose against the silky scrap of fabric covering my target.
She stumbles on contact.
“Hold on to me.” I clutch her wrist and guide her hand to my shoulder.
Once she’s situated, clutching me with both hands, I nuzzle the crease of her thigh, then trace the line where her panties meet her skin with my tongue. As the intoxicating scent of her essence floods my brain, I inhale deeply, my eyes rolling back.
Gripping the edge of her thong with my teeth, I yank, revealing the ultimate prize.
Above me, her head is ducked, her lips parted and her pupils blown out.
I keep my focus locked on her face as I lick her, swirling my tongue around her clit a few times, then sucking on the beautiful bundle of nerves.
She bucks slightly, but I stay the course, lavishing her sweet spot, giving it all the attention it deserves. I zigzag my tongue down her center, then push the tip into her opening.
“Fuck,” she mutters as she drags her nails through my hair.
“That’s it, angel,” I praise. “I want your words. I want to hear you. Tell me what you like.”
“Fuck… fuck. That feels so good,” she whines.
“You taste so good,” I counter, rushing to get the words out so I can get back to business.
I establish a rhythm, alternating between tongue-fucking, licking, and sucking, and before long, she’s clutching my hair and lifting her hips to meet my mouth, practically grinding against my face.
Growling my encouragement, I brace one arm around her thighs to steady her. With a third finger inserted in her hot, wet channel, I latch on to her clit like it’s my life source, sucking until she cries out.
“Oh fuck. Right there. Right there.”
I hold tempo and maintain pressure, singularly dedicated to the task at hand.
“Yes,” she whimpers, tugging on my hair hard enough to cause my scalp to tingle with pain.
Then she breaks, her grip loosening completely.
I glance up again, mesmerized by the sight of her so lost to the pleasure of the orgasm I just pulled out of her, her mouth open, her pulse beating in her neck. It’s an honor to be on my knees before her, to be responsible for the sensations coursing through her.
I ease my fingers out slowly, knowing I should give her a chance to come down and catch her breath.
But my typical stoicism and control have all but left my body.
“I need to be inside you.” I haul myself to my feet and clutch her shoulders, guiding her to the bed. Once she’s situated, I yank at the buttons of my shirt.
Nerves and deep, concentrated desire create a storm of urgency inside me. My heart hammers and my hands shake as I struggle with each button.
“Alaric,” Evangeline murmurs.
She shifts higher on the bed.
Naked.
Ready.
And so utterly fuckable.
“There’s no rush,” she says, a glimmer of amusement dancing behind her eyes.
The words soothe me, forcing me to take in a deep, cleansing breath.
We’re here. Together.
We have all week to become intimately acquainted with each other.
Like she said: there’s no rush.
And yet…
Finally free of my shirt, I drop it, then make quick work of my pants, shoving them down along with my briefs.
She does a sweeping assessment of my body, her attention lingering on the hard length between my thighs.