She considers me for a long moment, then says, “No. But if you don’t threaten, intimidate, or murder anyone while we’re at dinner with the Baptistes tonight, then you can have your chance afterward. If you do it well enough, maybe I’ll let you fuck me again. Considering we may not make it through this week.”
Don’t think about that.
I nip at her mouth until her hands climb up to twine around my neck. “I’ll behave.”
She shivers, and I don’t insult anyone that night.
Out loud.
After dinner,where I charmed the Baptistes—even Reggie, who was begrudgingly tolerant—I do my checks on the security team and make sure the coffee machine is prepped for Catriona’s lavender and honey latte in the morning, then go in search of her.
I find Catriona naked in our bathroom, leaning against the counter with an imperious eyebrow raised in my direction. As though I should have already been kneeling between her legs, and I’m disappointing her.
When I drop to my knees, she straightens, startled. I’ve never given her a reason to believe I’d be the sort of man who could beg. It never did a damn thing for me the few times I’d tried other than to make me look weak.
But she’s right.
Next week hinges on every detail falling into place perfectly. One wrong move and the results could be catastrophic. And I’m not willing to go to my grave with her not understanding the lengths I’d be willing to go for her.
Maybe it’s selfish.
Okay, considering my entire personality, it’s absolutely selfish.
“You look pretty like that,” she says, breaking me from my thoughts as she crosses the room to stand in front of me, looking like a goddess come to life. “But I’m not hearing a lot of begging.”
“I—” My throat clamps around the words. They’re too important. Too big. And I've never been the kind of man good with them.
My hesitation amuses her. “Huh. Need a little direction? That’s okay. Maybe I’m learning I like telling you what to do.”She threads her fingers through my hair lazily. “Why don’t you start by kissing my feet?”
I hold her eyes until the discomfort at the angle is too much, then I drop them. Starting at her thighs, I scatter kisses over her skin, working my way down until I reach her delicate ankles. The only thing I can hear is the sound of her erratic breathing and my heart beating in my ears. And Cian’s voice, threatening everything I’ve cared about.
Folding down, I press my lips to her feet, feeling the strain in my back and my knees protesting the hard floors. But there isn’t anywhere I’d rather be.
“You’re surprisingly good at that,” she observes from above me.
I grunt in acknowledgment because I’m too busy kissing the tips of her perfect pink toes, then up the other foot.
“Up,” she directs, and reaches down to tug at my shirt. I do, hiding a wince as my kneecaps grind into the floor. Her hand cups my jaw. I’m level with her lower belly. I can smell her arousal and want nothing more than to press my face into the cleft between her thighs, but I keep my head tilted back. “So obedient.”
I arch a brow. “Is that what you want?”
Her smile is slow, wicked. “You know what I want.”
Wrapping my arms around her thighs, I say, “No.”
Lips parted, she huffs, “What?”
“You heard me. There are no words I could say that you’d ever believe. No begging that could ever satisfy. But what I can do is worship at your altar. I can show you I repent every day for what I’ve done. That I won’t let anything ever happen to you again. No matter what.”
She contemplates me, a goddess observing her unworthy peasant. For a moment, I think she’ll tell me to go to hell, but then she tilts her head and says, “Good enough for now.”
But I know it’s not. Nothing will ever be.
Minutes later, she’s facing away from me in the shower, one foot propped on the stone seat, her hands on the wall so she can push back for every thrust. She’s mindless. Needy. My palms are filled with the generous weight of her breasts as I pinch her nipples between my fingers. Her moans echo off the tile, and it’s not until she flutters around me that I realize she’s got me inside her bare. Again.
“Condom,” I pant and pull out. “Fuck, let me?—”
She reaches a hand around and grabs me by the dick. Before I can choke out a protest, she fits me back inside her and takes me so deep I forget how to speak. “You don’t need one. I have an IUD. I was tested before you, and I’m good. And you know I know you are, too. You left the test results on my pillow a week after the wedding, where I’d find them.”
