“Itisyou.” One hand came to his face, fingers scraping the stubble that had grown there. “You came back late.”
To avoid precisely this. So he wouldn’t have to encounter any possibility of having her in his arms.
Once again, her leg brushed against his cock, and this time he couldn’t help the sound—barely a sound. A growl, a moan. A huff of air. His hands found her waist, preparing to roll her back. But her eyes widened—curse him, even in the barely there light of the bedchamber, he could see that—and he felt the way she stiffened, body tensing against his. The only thing she wore was a nightgown, and the heat of her skin burned through it.
“Was that—”
“You should go to sleep, Cecily.” His voice was tight, the restraint he had been carrying for so long fraying.
Her fingers twitched against his cheek as though she was also realising what position they were in. How close they were. Her breath shuddered free, dancing across his face.
The darkness was not helping. Perhaps if it was daylight, he could see all the ways this would be a bad idea. Instead, he was painting desire in her eyes, a wild, helpless want that matched his own.
“Percy,” she repeated. Her nose brushed his, and she softened in his arms. The hand on his cheek travelled down until she cradled his jaw. “I’ve missed you,” she whispered.
He was but a man. His mouth met hers in a wild, searing, half-desperate kiss.
Chapter Eleven
When he’d left the room before she’d so much as removed all her clothes, she had been certain she would not find a way to seduce him. Even now, half asleep as she was, she lost sight of her goal. His lips pressed hot against hers, tilting her head and opening her mouth so his tongue swept into her mouth.
For an instant, her mind woke up, tightening her muscles in instinctive response. But his hand travelled softly down her side, tracing her curves, and she forced herself to relax.
This felt good. Nothing, not all the conditioning she had put on herself, would take that away from them—her—now.
If she were to convince him of her affection, this would be necessary.
And, if she could find a way of enjoying herself, so much the better.
The kiss gentled, as though he was actively attempting to hold himself back, and Cecily gripped his shoulders, tugging him closer. Her thoughts tangled into knots, muddying with all the different things she wanted. Her knee nudged the hard ridgebetween his legs once more, and he let out another huff of air that travelled straight through her.
She would not deny her desire. Not this time.
Odysseus. Percy. The two men blended in her vision, blurring until she could not distinguish one from the other. The stranger, and the man she’d spent years resenting. The man in the mask, and the man whose face she knew better than her own.
Now she kissed his mouth, kissed his cheeks and the cheekbones there, kissed the graze of stubble along his hard jaw, kissed his forehead. Her chest felt oddly full, oddly tight, though she didn’t know precisely why, only that this felt different from anything she’d ever experienced. Her body lit with every press of his hands, winding her tighter, tighter.
Occasionally, by herself, she had experienced a craving for something. Fullness. And she had never understood what it was she wanted.
Now she knew. She ached, empty and wanting.
Percy’s hand slid to her backside, squeezing as he let out a muffled groan against her neck. Her mind emptied of all her plots and ploys. All that remained was her desperation to get his hands on her bare skin.
Lust was a frightening thing. She had been content. Now she was ravenous.
She nipped at his lip, urging another strangled sound from him, the knowledge that she was undoing all his careful restraint lighting her up inside. Brick by brick, his control came tumbling down, until the hand that gripped her hip slid her on top of him, right against the hard ridge of his arousal.
Her body moved before she gave it permission, and she pressed her aching core against him. Rolled her hips, rubbed, pushed until the friction made fireworks explode behind her eyes.
This was all right. This was good. This didn’t involve any invasion of her body, it did not make her feel as though everything felt too much, too overwhelming. There were no inhibitions between them.
No, there was something else entirely.
Her nipples hardened almost painfully, her breasts heavy and aching.
Percy, his face a mask of strain and pleasure, eyes hazy and yet focused entirely at her, looked as though his jaw might crack. She rolled her hips again, drawing another groan from him—coming from so deep inside him, she felt it rumble through her. In a way, it sounded almost like pain.
His hands ran up and down her waist as though to calm her, sometimes gripping as though he intended to remove her from him again. The press of his fingers seared into her soul.
