"Military history is fine." She moved to her worktable, trying not to notice how he tracked her movement. "Though I should warn you, my knowledge of ancient warfare is limited to what appears in classical texts."
"Then we'll educate each other." He rose, selecting a volume from the stack. "I'll provide historical context, you provide linguistic expertise."
It started well enough. They established a system where he would identify significant texts while she created catalogue entries, their conversation limited to professional matters. But as the morning wore on, the careful boundaries began to erode.
It started with a debate over Xenophon's reliability as a historical source. Adrian argued for the military value of the Anabasis while Eveline defended its literary merits, their discussion growing heated in the way their best arguments always did. Without realizing it, they'd moved closer, facing off across a pile of ancient texts like gladiators in an intellectual arena.
"You can't dismiss the artistic elements simply because they don't serve military history," Eveline insisted, grabbing a volume to support her point. "Xenophon was crafting a narrative, not just recording facts."
"But the facts matter!" Adrian countered, reaching for the same volume. Their hands collided, and suddenly they were standing far too close, breathing hard from the force of argument and something else entirely.
“The facts always matter,” Eveline whispered, her lips trembling with the force of the admission. “But so does the truth beneath them.”
Adrian’s eyes lingered on her mouth, grey darkening to storm. “And what truth are you tempting me to speak aloud?”
“That sometimes,” she breathed, inching closer, “the most careful plans, the most rigid boundaries… are nothing more than excuses to deny what we want most.”
He swore under his breath. “You dangerous little bluestocking.” His hand finally cupped her cheek, rough with restraint, thumb grazing her lower lip until it trembled. “You’ve spent a week torturing me with your sharp tongue and your clever eyes. Did you think I wouldn’t notice how you look at me when you think I’m not watching?”
“I wasn’t...” Her protest dissolved into a gasp as he caught her chin firmly, tilting her face up.
“Don’t lie to me, Eveline.” His voice was low, a command. “You’ve been aching for this as much as I have.”
Her pulse thundered as she leaned into the pressure of his hand. “Yes.”
That single word snapped the fragile leash of control. His mouth crushed down on hers, claiming, punishing, devouring. His tongue thrust deep, leaving her no choice but to open to him, to submit to the rough invasion. Pins scattered fromher loosened hair as his other hand buried in the dark curls, pulling until her neck arched beneath him.
He pressed her back against the table, forcing her down until the wood dug into her spine. “Spread for me,” he ordered, shoving her skirts higher with impatient hands. “Now.”
The command tore a shiver through her. She obeyed, her legs falling open, her knees framing his hips. He stepped between them, grinding the rigid length of his arousal against her through her soaked shift. The pressure drew a shameless cry from her throat.
“That’s it,” he murmured darkly, one hand gripping her thigh and dragging it higher around his waist. “Feel how ready you are for me. I barely touch you, and you’re already ruined.”
“Adrian…” she gasped, clutching at his shoulders. “Please.”
His lips dragged down her throat, biting hard enough to mark her before soothing the sting with his tongue. “You beg beautifully. But you don’t tell me what to do.Idecide what you’re given.”
Her body bucked against his thigh, seeking friction, and he laughed softly against her skin, wicked and indulgent. “Greedy girl. Look at you, rutting against me like you can’t help yourself. Show me how badly you need me.”
She obeyed without thought, rocking against the solid muscle of his leg, the rough slide of cloth against her swollen flesh sending jolts of unbearable pleasure through her. Her hands fisted in his coat, clinging, as her moans grew louder.
“That’s right,” he coaxed, his hand firm on her hip, guiding her rhythm. “Use me. Take what you’ve been starving for.”
The friction built mercilessly, every rub driving her higher, every movement stoking the unbearable pressure between her thighs. She was whimpering now, almost sobbing with the intensity of it.
“Look at you,” he growled, lips at her ear. “So desperate to come apart. Let me feel you shatter.”
The command broke her. She cried out, body arching, trembling violently as the climax crashed through her. She clung to him as wave after wave ripped through her, leaving her breathless, undone, ruined in his arms.
When her shaking eased, she pressed frantic kisses along his jaw, down his throat, her hands fumbling lower. She wanted more. She wanted him in her mouth, to taste the heat straining against the fine wool of his trousers. She began to slide from the table, meaning to kneel.
But his hand shot out, gripping her arm with iron strength. “No.” His voice was raw steel, leaving no room for disobedience. He hauled her back up, pinning her to the table once more. “You don’t get to taste me tonight.”
“Adrian...”
“His thumb stroked her swollen lip, gentler now, but his eyes burned with command. “When this happens It will be in my bed, beneath me, until you remember nothing but my name.”
Her entire body shivered at the promise, at the dominance threading everyword. “Yes,” she whispered, trembling with equal parts of defiance and surrender.
