He ran his tongue back over her, not stopping this time. The silence of the room pressed in around them, broken only by her panting breaths and the crackle of the fire. He neither noticed nor cared if his knees ached on the floorboards beneath him. Only her, her taste, her sounds, the feeling of her coming on his tongue, mattered.
Her legs went boneless as she came back down to earth.
‘Took you long enough,’ Maeve mumbled, still managing to sound grumpy even with the mess she’d made of his face. She collapsed back in the chair, covering her eyes with the crook of her elbow.
Jude kissed her knee. ‘Hm.’
He watched her as her breathing slowly evened out, her body going lax. One leg was still around his shoulder. His eyes skated down to where she was still open for him. ‘I don’t think you’re quite done.’
She moved her arm to look down at him as he resumed sliding his thumb back and forth over her. Her head dropped back. She tried to close her legs, stopped by his shoulders. He kept his touch light, pace steady, as her face scrunched.
He’d meant what he said – he’d stop when she asked.
‘Another?’ Jude asked as her cheeks grew more and more flushed. She took a deep breath, holding it in. Her back arched. He didn’t vary his touch, content to watch her crumble.
And crumble, she did.
He was only half aware his mouth was on her again. He closed his eyes, reaching down to press on himself, staving off the end.Fuck.He could stay forever.
His head swam. Drunk, almost.
Finally, Maeve pushed him back. She looked utterly wrecked as he wiped his mouth on his wrist. ‘That’s,’ she paused, catching her breath, ‘enough.’
He smirked.
She rolled her eyes. ‘I would tease you about that smug look but… I suppose it’s deserved.’
He laid his head on her thigh to hide how his smile widened.
The afternoon seemed to pause, a hushed reverence falling over the room as Maeve ran her fingers through his hair, pulling gently. Perhaps it was time to let it grow longer again.
‘Let’s go upstairs,’ she said, breaking the comfortable silence. ‘I want to be in your bed.’
Jude pressed a final kiss to her thigh before he stood, leaning down to bring his lips close to her ear. ‘I thought about you there, Maeve. Many,manytimes.’
Maeve shoved to her feet, grabbing him by the hand.
Their laughter filled the house as they ran up the stairs, breathing life into the walls. Jude paused on the way to his bedroom to open the door to her studio. He smiled at the contents. ‘Maeve?’ He caught her hand, pulling her back. ‘Look.’
She curled into his side, grinning up at him until he directed her to look into the room with a jerk of his chin. She turned in his arms. It took her a moment to take in what filled the room. Then—
‘Oh.Jude!’ she squealed, leaving his arms to race towards the easel. ‘When did this arrive?’
Maeve crouched beside the solid oak easel arranged by the window to examine the tray of oil paints, the cup beside it full of silky brushes. All new, handcrafted by an artisan in Oakmooror sent from one of the larger towns nearby. Jude had arranged it all through a letter to Bethan, sent while he and Maeve were at her family’s.
All for this very moment – the smile on her face better than he imagined.
‘Do you like it?’ he asked, approaching to sift his fingers through the fine hair at her temple. ‘I thought you might want something new to paint with.’
‘Iloveit,’ she said, standing to throw her arms around him. ‘So much. Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome.’ He drew back, taking both her hands in his. ‘Bethan told me there’s a group in Oakmoor that meets every few weeks to paint together, if you’d like to join. Her mother goes.’
Her eyes lit up even further. ‘I’d love to.’ She turned, sweeping a hand across the room and the view beyond. ‘I want to paint this – our home. Our life. All of this.’
A lump formed in his throat. ‘I can’t wait to see.’
She squeezed his hands, dragging him bodily from the room and towards his bedroom. Jude laughed. ‘Eager, are we? I thought you learned your lesson about patience.’
