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“No, I don’t believe that. I don’t believe that at all—not anymore. I rather think the opposite, actually. Happiness is the true marker of superiority—not wealth or power or status. Not even intelligence.”
“We’ll see if you still believe that,” she says with a cruel curl of her lips, “when Mr Ambrose announces the winner of the Apostles programme on Friday.”
“Yes. We will.”
I smile, my lips tingling with all the kisses I want to lay upon hers. Her eyes flicker to my mouth, and I wonder if she senses the strength of my desire. Unlacing her fingers, she cradles my face in her hands. A tremor runs through me, half-anticipation, half-dread.
She doesn’t kiss me.
Instead, she says, “I’m so sorry, Zachary.”
I widen my eyes. “For what?”
“For doubting your loyalty when you’ve never been anything but unwaveringly devoted to me. For mistrusting you when you’ve never given me any reason to do so. For punishing you for a crime that wasn’t yours. For—” Her voice breaks. She swallows and continues to speak in a quavering voice. “For not letting you love me—for forbidding myself from loving you back when it’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. For wasting all this time.”
“I forgive you,” I answer straight away. “I forgive you for all of it—even though there is less to forgive than you think since you are not to blame for most of the things you’ve spoken of. I forgive you everything there is to forgive—I would forgive you anything at all. You could plunge a knife in my chest right now, and I would still forgive you.”
She gives a warbling smile, and nascent tears glisten in her eyes. I’ve never seen Theodora cry; I should’ve known even her tears would be beautiful.
The sun has almost set now, and the library, without us noticing, has grown full of red light and shadows.
“I might grow tyrannical,” she says, “if my transgressions are so easily forgiven.”
“And I would love you still, my exquisite despot.”
She laughs, and a tear falls loose from her eyelashes, rolling like a pearl of dew down her cheek. I kiss her laughing mouth, stealing her breath away. I kiss her with the anxious reverence of a first kiss, the desperate devotion of a last kiss, and the ardent hunger of every kiss I’ve wanted to give her.
I kiss her until her tears cease to fall and until her entire body is warm and trembling under my hands.
And then we’re standing and embracing and stumbling through the crimson blades of fading sunlight and the soft shadows of the library. I pick her up into my arms, crushing her to me before pinning her back in a dark alcove of bookcases as she whispers a frantic string of words into my ear, an incantation of desire.
“Oh Zach, I’ve missed you, I love you, I need you, now—now.”
I swallow her incantation into my mouth, wrapping one arm around her waist and reaching under her skirt with my free hand.
My mouth is hungry on hers while I stroke between her legs, finding her hot and wet as ripe summer fruit. She wraps her thighs around my hips and reaches between us to yank at my belt, murmuring commands into my ear.
And I obey her—my lustful tyrant.
I hold her tight and kiss her raspberry mouth and drive my hard cock deep inside her, swallowing her rasping moan. One hand clutching my neck and the other holding on to the bookshelves for purchase, she arches against me, sliding herself up and down the length of me, forcing me to bite down hard on a moan.
“What are you doing to me,” I groan, burying my head in her neck.
“Making you mine,” she says in a husky sigh.
“I’m already yours.” I thrust deep inside her, burying myself to the hilt and grinding against her. “I’m already yours—I’ve always been yours.”
“Yes,” she hisses, and I feel her pleasure in the tautness of her neck, the strain in her voice, the tensing of her thighs. “Mine. Oh, please—”
“I’m yours, my love.” I kiss her neck, her jaw, her mouth. Reaching between us, I brush my thumb over the tiny bud of her clit, slippery with her wetness. “My Theodora. My love. Come for me, angel.”
She comes with a startled cry and writhes against me, clenching around my cock. I pin her hips, forcing her to stay still, her orgasm calling to mine as I fuck her with abandon. Her cries become loud, ragged wails, and I’m forced to stifle them under one palm as my thrusts become faster, harsher, harder, until I have no choice but to come, hard and dizzying, inside her.
We stay entwined, pressed against the bookshelves, my head against her throat, hers resting against the books. Our panting breaths are the only sound in the library, and we wait until both our heartbeats have calmed to finally pull away from each other.
I set Theodora down gently, fixing her underwear and skirt, tucking her hair behind her ears. She lets me, closing her eyes and leaning into each gentle touch. When I’m done, I fix myself, and we stand gazing at each other with sheepish expressions.
“I came inside you,” I whisper, covering my hand with my mouth. “We need to find a pharmacy, or—”
