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And I know that I’ll always, always want to do the same.
When he’s made me completely breathless and languid against him, he breaks the kiss and whispers, “You okay?”
My fingers as always have found their way into his rich, dark hair, and curling the strands, I nod, knowing exactly what he’s asking. “Yeah.”
His are tangled up in my dress. “Any pain?”
I squirm in his lap as lust leaches back to the surface after it got forgotten in our heated discussion. “No. I took the pill.”
“Good.”
“Thank you for sending that up with Mo.”
In response, his lips pull up on one side in a lopsided smile before he brings me in for another kiss, soft and wet.
When we come up for air, I whisper, “Do you think Mo would be upset?”
“About what?”
“About us.”
He frowns. “It’s none of her business.”
I wrap my arms around his neck. “I won’t tell her. I won’t tell anyone.”
He wraps his arms around my waist. “I don’t want you to worry about it. You’re safe.”
“But they’ll blame you, won’t they? At school. If they found out.” Then, before he can say anything, I continue, “I want you to know that I won’t let this, whatever we have, ruin things for you. I know you came to St. Mary’s to make changes and I won’t let things between us deter you from the job.”
Thick and heavy emotions rearrange his features as he says, “I told you, Poe. It’s not something you need to worry about. All you need to worry about are your exams, your classes, your future, okay?”
“What’s my future?”
It’s a question I’ve asked him before.
A long, long time ago when we were enemies and I thought that he was the biggest threat to it.
Now I know that he’s the biggest shield, the biggest armor that’s going to keep it safe. I know that if it came down to it, he might destroy himself in order to keep it safe.
To keep me safe.
My guardian.
Who remembers as well. This conversation from long ago. His eyes glint and shine with the memory as he rasps, “New York. Fashion school and everything you want it to be.”
My heart squeezes in my chest. At his answer. At the freedom he’s given me.
At the emotion in his voice.
That clearly shows that I’m his baby. He’ll give me whatever I want.
And he’s right.
I am his baby. I am his diva.
And it’s my job to thank him. To soothe him, to take his pain away.
To reward him for all the hard work, for all his little gifts.
“How many times do you work out in a week?” I whisper.
If he thinks my change of subject is weird, he doesn’t show it. “Every day.”
My eyes go wide behind my glasses. “Every day?”
“Yeah.”
“For how long?”
“A couple of hours.”
My hand goes down to his where he’s gripping my waist, and I bring one up to my lips. Kissing his knuckle, I go on, “And then you work in your office?”
He jerks at my kiss. “Yeah.”
I kiss his second knuckle. “Are you working on a paper right now?”
His jaw clenches as I lick his third one. “I’m always working on a paper.”
I lick the fourth one and his other hand that’s still on my waist tightens to the point that I moan. I grind on his lap.
Plus the taste of his skin is so good, see.
It’s all salty and musky from sweat and hot from all the pounding that his epic hands have doled out.
It makes me all heated and horny.
“What is it about?” I whisper, going for the tiny one on his thumb.
His eyes narrow as he watches me pamper his beautiful fingers. “Something about… uh, the Medici family.”
Since I’ve run out of knuckles, I go for the silver ring on his pinkie and circle the black stone that sits in the center with my tongue. I’m not sure how it’s possible but his ring tastes like his sweat as well. And God, I could lick it forever.
I could lick every drop of sweat on his body and drink it down.
“Who are they?” I whisper next.
“They backed,” he swallows, watching my tongue, “the Renaissance movement.”
I smile excitedly, wiggling on his lap. “Oh, right. You’re the Renaissance man.”
He tightens his grip on my waist even more, effectively stopping me from making any movements. “What?”
I rub his knuckles on my cheek, all rough and hot. “You know, because that’s what you study. The Renaissance era.”
With that, I go for the gold and suck on his thumb.
I circle my tongue on the tip before taking the whole digit in. And I swear to God, it’s so tasty that I have to moan. I have to close my eyes and grind on his lap again. I have to suck on it harder because imagine if he tastes so good here, how epic is he going to taste down there.
