“Come inside me.” I slide my hands through his hair, down his spine, under his shirt, caressing his skin, clinging to him. “I want to feel it, feel you.” And then I’m chanting, “Please . . . please . . . please . . . please.”
I’m right there, right on the edge—I tilt my hips, reaching for it, pleasure coiling inside me, waiting to explode.
“Please . . . please . . . Logan . . .”
I sob his name and my head tilts back against the wall as stars burst behind my eyelids. My legs lock around him and I squeeze everywhere, coming and coming . . .
Logan thrusts one last time and groans against my skin. I feel the pulse of his cock, the hot rush of his fluid and, fuck, it makes me come even harder.
What seems like minutes later, after the grip of our orgasm settles into loose-limbed intoxication, Logan lifts his head and guides my lips to his. And his kiss is tender and soft. His knuckles brush my cheeks, caressing like I’m fragile. Made of glass. Gently, he slips out of me and lowers my legs to the floor.
I lean against Logan, on knees of Jell-O. Without a word, I unbutton his shirt and tug it from his shoulders, because I want to see him. I want to enjoy every inch of this beautiful body. And he wants me to. It’s there in the smile that plays at his lips and his heavy-lidded, amused expression.
Once I free him from his clothes, he lowers to his knees. Then kisses between my breasts, his lips trailing down my stomach, he slides the ruined slip to the floor.
Flashing a sexy grin, he stands, scoops me up and carries me to the bed.
And there, like he promised . . . Logan gives it to me sweet.
AFTER OUR EXERTIONS AGAINST THE wall, and the bed, Ellie and I enjoy a shower together.
She’s very pretty when she’s wet.
I wash her hair, rubbing her scalp, tilting her head back when I rinse the shampoo out, making her lovely little tits rise for my waiting mouth. And those beauties taste every bit as good as they look.
Then I wash Ellie everywhere else, massaging her legs and back to keep her from aching tomorrow. I kiss her forehead and she smiles up at me like I’m the king of the fucking world. Her world.
After wanting her so much, for so long, the feeling of her tight, slick and hot around me made me lose my mind for a bit. But in the soothing calm of the shower, I ask her what I should’ve asked her about before—birth control. It’s my job to keep her safe in every way, and I feel like a tool for being so reckless.
Ellie tells me she’s been on the pill for years. Girl issues, she says with unusual shyness.
And I’m glad for it—I like feeling her bare, nothing between us, flesh to flesh.
But if there was a baby, I would take care of her, give her whatever she needed, be all she needs.
There are abilities I’m skilled at—familiar with—fighting and fucking, battles and weapons, sensing danger, and knowing how to keep those in my care safe from harm.
But love . . . I’m ignorant of it. The word has never passed my lips, and the feeling is as alien to me as the sentiment.
What I do know, what I’m sure of, is that I would die for Ellie. Kill for her, live for her. The vow echoes through me with every beat of my heart. She is the most important person in my life. She has been from the beginning, and she always will be. There will never be another.
I don’t know if I’ll be any fucking good at love. I’m not quite sure how it’s done. But, for her, I’ll learn.
And I’ll do my damnedest to get it right.
We lie on our sides, resting but not spent, stroking each other, looking and smiling at one another. I used to think the phrase “gazing into each other’s eyes” was stupid. Fake. I mean, really, what man does shit like that?
Now, apparently . . . I fucking do.
And it’s not dumb or artificial at all. Because Ellie is mesmerizing. Her face is an ever-changing landscape of expressions—each one cuter, sexier, more enchanting than the last. Her lips have a thousand different smiles and her eyes sparkle and swirl with infinite shades of blue.
If I manage to die gazing at Ellie Hammond’s face, I’ll go out a happy man.
“When did you know? The very first time?” she asks.
I play with a strand of her hair, brushing its softness against my fingertip, thinking way back.
“It was at the museum, I think. When you flirted with me . . . and I thought, if this girl were a bit older, I’d be all over her.”
Her eyebrows reach for the sky. “That long? I never knew.”
“I didn’t want you to know. I thought if I pushed it away, ignored it for long enough, it’d go away.” I kiss her nose and whisper like a conspirator. “It didn’t.”
“Did you know that I liked you?”
I chuckle. “Aye. Your poker face is . . . well, you don’t have one.”
Ellie sticks out her tongue—that cute fucking tongue that’s teased me for years. I chase after her mouth and I suck on her tongue when I catch her, kiss her. Then, laughing, I say, “I figured it was just a crush. A girlish fancy that would fade when you grew up.”
Ellie leans over me and pecks my nose, whispering in the same secret tone, “It didn’t.”
“No.” I run my hand through the damp strands of her hair. Relieved—relieved and . . . wonderfully content.
“So what happens now?” she asks.
I open my mouth to answer, but there’s a knock at the door.
“Ellie? It’s me—are you up?”
It’s Olivia. The doorknob jiggles and thank fuck it’s locked, or this would’ve been an eye-opening visit for the Duchess. I tilt my head towards the toilet and Ellie nods.
A minute later, I hear their conversation through the door.
“Is everything okay?” Ellie asks.
“Yeah, I just . . . wanted to see you. I had a bad dream. Nicholas is still sleeping; I didn’t want to wake him—I had to make sure you’re okay.”
I hear Ellie move out into the hall, probably to embrace her sister. “I’m okay, Livvy. I’m so, so sorry. I won’t scare you like that again, I swear.”
“I love you, Ellie.”
“I love you too.”
Then her tone turns teasing. “And I love both of you . . . even if you turn out to be little Ernie and an Omen demon baby.”
Together, the sisters laugh.
When I hear Ellie close her bedroom door, I step back into the room.
“Coast is clear.” She grins, turning the lock.
I fall onto the bed, moving to the center, pushing a hand through my hair and watching her walk towards me.
“I have to tell Prince Nicholas,” I say on an exhale.
Ellie slips her robe off and joins me on the bed.
Pouting.
“You don’t want me to tell him?” I ask her.
She crawls over to me, her lovely arse in the air. “No, I understand the situation.”
The thing is, I don’t think she does. She doesn’t realize the complications—or the changes that will have to be made.
But I’m at peace with it—I’ll do what has to be done, as long as I get to keep her.
Ellie trails feather-light kisses along my ribs. “Maybe you could wait on thinking about Nicholas . . . until your semen isn’t still trickling out of my body?”
I choke out a laugh. “Fuck . . . the things that come out of your mouth.”
She smiles slyly and kisses lower—down my abdomen, around my navel—and lower still.