Finally, when she thought she could bear the teasing no longer, Jude drew his hand up her thigh. She released a breath. ‘Took you long enough.’
He chuckled, a bitten-off sound that shifted to a sigh as he slid his fingers through her, slow and languid. Behind her, his chest stilled. ‘Maeve,’ he breathed. ‘Fuck.’
She closed her eyes and pushed her legs wider, moving hishand where she wanted him. His other hand fastened tightly around her hip, holding her still. Their panting breaths filled the silence. Her nails dug into his skin, even when she no longer needed to guide him. All the while, he whispered into her hair, telling her how beautiful he found her, how well she was doing. Admonishing her when she looked away from where they connected.
‘That’s it,’ he murmured against her neck when her head dropped back at the feeling of his fingers sliding inside her. Maeve reached for him, fastening her hand around the back of his neck. She needed to touch him as she came, the bliss a slow-moving wave that left her gasping and trembling in its wake.
Their breathing didn’t slow for a long while after. Jude continued to touch her like he didn’t quite know how to stop – slow, lazy passes of his hands up her thighs, over her breasts, a featherlight brush between her legs where he’d left her wrecked. She shuddered in his arms.
The cooling water eventually urged them apart.
He wrapped an oversized towel around her shoulders, kissing her forehead before grabbing one of his own. Maeve took the opportunity to study him as he moved, as both an artist and a lover. She’d known he was tall and slim, with graceful limbs and a certain elegance she’d enjoyed capturing in paint, but she hadn’t been prepared for the reality. She wet her lips, trailing her gaze down to his narrow hips, his legs’ long expanse, the subtle definition of his chest and abdomen. The harsh lines of his tattoos only emphasized his beauty, their existence a tangible reminder of all he had survived.
Emboldened, she moved closer, placing her palm flat on his chest, directly over theSAINTtattoo, and kissed his throat.
Jude stilled. He sucked in a tight inhale, pulling his towel closer around his hips.
Maeve continued her path downwards, pressing her lips against the line of his collarbone, the swell of his chest where it rose andfell. Ran her fingers over his ribs, the soft insides of his arms. At his sides, his hands grasped and released.
‘Is this okay?’ she murmured as she lowered to her knees.
Jude stared down at her, his eyes so wide it was nearly comical. She concealed her smile against the edge of his hip. If she’d read him correctly, he was going to like this. His mouth parted, but nothing came out.
‘Jude?’ Maeve asked, kissing the soft skin just above the towel, featherlight touches across each inked tally on his lower stomach. She pressed her tongue to the point of his hip, nearly moaning with the taste. He threaded his fingers through the hair at her nape, angling her head to meet his gaze.
‘I—’ his throat bobbed. ‘I mean – yes? Please.’
Before she could lose her nerve, she pulled off his towel and took him into her mouth. She’d never done this before, never wanted to, really, but she wanted to see Jude come undone, knowingshewas behind it. She wanted to hear the noises from his mouth as he dug fingertips into her scalp, his sharp intake of breath as she took him deeper. Feel him pull her away when he got close.
‘I don’t want to…’ he shook his head, guiding her back to her feet. His cheeks were flushed, a wash of colour that extended down his chest. ‘Not yet.’
‘Well, that’s one way to keep you around,’ Maeve said, smiling as he pulled her tight to his chest. His breathing had yet to slow.
‘Come on,’ he said into her hair.
He divested her of her towel and laid her flat against the bed. She laughed, skating her palms up and down his sides as he moved to hover over her, accidentally setting his hand down on her loose hair in the process. It pulled sharply at her scalp.
‘Ow—’ she winced, pulling at her trapped hair.
Jude drew back so rapidly that he nearly toppled over. ‘Are you all right?’ He massaged his fingertips into her scalp, eyes wide with concern.
Maeve fought a grin as she pulled him down on top of her. ‘I’ll survive. Maybe.’
An answering smile moved quickly to his lips. ‘Funny,’ he murmured, sliding his hand into the hair at her nape to angle her face towards his. Their gazes locked and held, something heady passing between them. Emotion welled up in her chest at seeing him like this – allowed to be free, unconcerned with anything that wasn’t his present moment. She leaned up and kissed him.
As he moved his hand to wrap around the side of her throat with his thumb against her pulse, Maeve realized this would be nothing like their last kiss. The kiss at the inn had been all desperation and a wild reach for connection. They’d been starving for each other, wanting one moment of happiness amidst their rapidly crumbling reality. It was no wonder it had played out the way it had. Whenever she had thought of kissing Jude, sleeping with him, even, she’d pictured something slow. Reverent, almost.
She’d admitted to herself once, when she’d been out of her mind with jealousy at the thought of him and Bethan as lovers, that Jude would take his time. As his lips moved over hers, his thigh pressing between hers and sliding up, the friction more than perfect, she knew she was right.
He was going to make a slow study of her, and she was going to let him.
Jude released her mouth to kiss down her neck, across her collarbone. He pressed his nose to the underside of her breast, fitting his thumbs into the hollow of her hips. Slid his tongue over her nipples until she began to gasp before kissing over her ribs and sternum, each brush as light as a feather. He drank in her every reaction, lingering when she arched against him, mouthing at her skin. Love, she thought as he made a careful catalogue of everywhere he could reach, was everything and nothing, indefinable in a world she tried to keep safely contained. Love was this – sacrifice and survival.
Maeve watched him move downwards, trying to control her heart rate.
She’d never craved a lover’s eyes like this. Certainly notduring, when she was vulnerable, open, him between her legs. But when Jude kissed the soft hollow where her hip met her thigh and looked up at her, she wanted nothing more thanhim. Memorizing her with his eyes and with his mouth.
‘You will need to instruct me,’ Jude whispered.
