Part 22 (1/2)

His eyes flashed, the pads of his fingers at my waist and those around my wrist dug in and he said, ”No, my dove, not for that. For your own good. You've had adela tea and the effects won't wear off for some time. I need to leave you alone. And so you don't get into trouble, I need to tie you down.”

”I'm okay with the tying down bit, not okay with the leaving bit,” I told him.

”I must.”

”You mustn't.”

”Maddie, I must.”

I shook my head and pressed closer. ”Please, don't leave.”

”But I must,” he repeated.

I ignored that and pulled him with me as I took a step back, urging, ”Come to bed.”

”I can't.”

I slid my hand to his jaw and got up on tiptoe, begging, ”Please.”

He moved both of his hands to my face and dipped his close, but his hold on me was firm so I couldn't get to his mouth. I knew this because I tried.

”My poppy, focus on my eyes, listen to me.”

”I'm listening,” I a.s.sured him. ”But I can listen better in bed.”

”We get in that bed, neither of us will be talking.”

”I'm down with that too,” I shared.

”I think I understand what you mean by that, and if I do, I can also a.s.sure you won't be down with that in the morning.”

”I will,” I replied quickly. ”I promise. Swear.”

”Maddie-”

I got up on my toes as close to him as I could.

He moved that inch away, which sucked.

I tried a different tactic and whispered, ”It's been over three years.”

”G.o.ds,” he rumbled, the sound of that single word going through me in a way that I had to stifle a moan of pleasure.

”I need you, baby,” I pleaded.

”This isn't right, my dove. You don't know it now but you'll thank me in the morning.”

”It's right. It's so right.” I pushed closer. ”It's been years, honey. I need your hands on me. Your mouth on me.”

”Maddie-” he started, the sound like a groan, spurring me on.

I held his eyes and framed his face with my hands as he was mine and whispered, ”I need you.”

”You don't, my dove. It's the tea,” he whispered back.

I stared at him, my b.r.e.a.s.t.s heavy, my breaths shallow, my s.e.x saturated, every inch of my skin sensitized, and I thought, f.u.c.k it.

I let him go and stepped back so he let me go.

I watched his hands fall to the sides and I took in all that was him.

There was a lot.

And all of it was good.

Then I pounced.

I landed on him with arms around his shoulders and curled my legs around his hips. Automatically, his hands went to my a.s.s to catch me and a whimper slid up my throat at his touch as I slammed my mouth down on his.

His hand slid up my back and into my hair and that was good.

Until he turned his head away, breaking the contact of our lips.

He shoved his face in my neck and muttered, ”G.o.ds d.a.m.n it.”

I hoped that was capitulation and I had hope since he was walking me to the bed.

Then he put me down on it, but once he'd done that, he captured both of my hands and yanked them over my head. Holding them in one of his, his other went to his belt.

I had a feeling I knew what this meant and it was not that he was giving me what I wanted but that he was going to use his belt to tie me to the bed and then take off.

”You're leaving me?” I gasped, seeking confirmation.

”For your own good, poppy,” he confirmed.

I shook my head. ”Then don't tie me down. If you have to go, go. But I need my hands.”

He took my meaning. I knew this when his eyes darkened and went over my head as his lips murmured, ”I should have gagged her first.”

I struggled on the bed. ”If you're going to leave me like this, I need my hands, Apollo.”

I was writhing uncontrollably on the bed and he was watching me.

G.o.d, his eyes.

That mouth.

G.o.d.

”If I can't have you, let me have my hands.” I sounded desperate and imploring, mostly because I was.