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“What about you?” I manage to choke out.
“If you asked it of me, I would burn the world for you. I would lay down my life for yours.”
“I know.” Tears prick at the corners of my eyes. “Please, don’t ever try to do that again.”
“I promise. It is my honour to live for you as I would die for you. You are my goddess, mybeloved.”
And with that, he draws his hips back and thrusts.
No more talking. The ability to speak is driven out of me by the force of his thrusts. Pax ravages my body like it’s a city he has been ordered to destroy. He trembles against my body as his hips piston against me in that perfect rhythm that has me soaring. Water splashes over the bath. Pink bubbles float around my face.
Pax’s hips buck against me, driving me against his splayed fingers as he holds me in my kneeling position, making sure that he’s not pile-driving me into the side of the bath.
Even in the midst of his own ecstasy, he looks after me.
That’s who he is, my warrior with the soft heart. His hard muscles hot and tight against mine, his body taut with need of me as he drives me right to the edge, putting his hand between my legs to punish my clit because he won’t allow himself release until I come again.
So I don’t hold back. I can’t give him the words he is so desperate to hear, but I can give him this. I come apart on his fingers, split open by his monstrous cock.
A French guy I met in a bar in Queenstown told me in a quintessentially French attempt at flirting that in his language, an orgasm is calledla petit mort, or “a little death.” I told him that sounded completely fake and made him pay for two more drinks before going home with an Australian skier who didn’t take himself as seriously.
Well, the joke’s on me, because I died a little in Pax’s arms, and a little piece of my soul breaks away and binds itself to him.
Pax finally allows himself his release, and his muscles tense as he nearly tosses me across the room. But he manages to catch me before collapsing against me, his cheek resting on my back, stubble scraping my skin. I manage to pull myself around and wrap my arms around him. I look down and burst out laughing when I see the tiny puddle of water left in the bathtub.
Pax notices too, and he beams. “Now you know how to bathe like a Roman.”
6
Ambrose
Ihover over the corner of the bed and listen to Pax and Bree in the bathroom. From the sounds of Bree’s happy squeals, they’re having fun. I wish I were having fun with them, but Edward insists that we stay out here. He says he wants to talk to me, but he hasn’t uttered a word.
Finally, I can’t stand it anymore. I stand and move toward the bathroom. “If you don’t need me, I’ll be taking a bubble bath—”
“Ambrose,” Edward says my name like a prayer. “Wait.”
“Do you have something new to teach me?” I can barely control my excitement. Edward has been instrumental in showing me the finer details of pleasing a woman, and I believe I’ve made some progress in the area, especially for a ghost. “Some new and wondrous way to make Bree scream?”
“No.” There’s a hint of a smile in Edward’s voice. “I mean, yes, always. You have so much to learn, and you’re such an obliging student. Tonight perhaps we will cover the five senses…however, that’s not what I wish to ask you.”
“What then?”
“If you were a human, would you still…” Edward’s breath rushes out. “Would you still be my friend?”
“I don’t understand.”
“If you and Pax were…were both alive, and the two of you could be with Brianna in the way that only three humans can be, then surely it would be easier if I were gone from Grimwood?”
“Grimwood is your home, Edward, as much as it is ours and Bree’s. None of us would wish you to leave it.”
He takes my hand and squeezes it. As ghosts, we’ve always been able to touch each other – his ghostly skin feels cold and clammy, a symptom, no doubt, of the troublesome evening we’ve had. “You say that, but I cannot help but think that a spectral prince, no matter how handsome and charming he might be, will only hinder you and Brianna and Pax from living your fullest lives. You will be forever acquiescing to the needs of the dead, instead of enjoying the pleasures of the Living. What if you and Brianna wanted to travel? I couldn’t come with you, but nor would I wish to keep you here against your will.”
Edward must see a flicker of unease pass over my face, because I can feel him flinch.
I rush to reassure him. “You don’t know that. With the moldavite stones, we may be able to take you with us—”
“But that’s just it. I would always be a burden to you.”
