Chapter 228

Agnes

Elijah’s mouth claimed mine with an urgency that matched my own. His weight pressed me into the mattress, and the sensation brought a delicious heat to my core that had nothing to do with my fire abilities and everything to do with the way his hands moved over my body.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmured against my lips, and I knew exactly what he meant. Between the conference, my elemental outbursts, and the constant chaos of our lives, we’d barely had a moment to ourselves lately.

“Show me how much,” I challenged with a smirk, tugging at his shirt.

He grinned and sat back on his heels to unbutton his shirt. I watched him, drinking in the sight of his chest as it was revealed inch by inch. When he tossed the shirt aside, I reached for him, running my hands over the hard planes of his chest.

“Your turn,” he said, his fingers finding the hem of my t-shirt.

I lifted my arms, allowing him to pull the shirt over my head. The cool air prickled my skin, but I didn’t have time to feel cold before Elijah’s mouth was on me again, trailing kisses down my neck to my collarbone, then lower.

“Elijah,” I gasped as his mouth closed over my breast. My back arched off the bed, seeking more of that delicious sensation.

His hands slid down my sides, hooking into the waistband of my sweatpants. He tugged them down my legs, panties and all, his mouth never leaving my skin as he worked his way lower.

I squirmed beneath him, impatient, and reached for the button of his pants.

He chuckled against my stomach, and the vibration of it was enough to heighten my desire. “Patience, love.”

“Patience is overrated,” I replied, managing to undo his button and zipper.

Shaking his head, Elijah stood and stripped off his remaining clothes. I took a moment to admire him, all hard muscle and tanned skin, before he was on me again, his body covering mine.

His mouth found mine once more as his hands explored my body, finding all the places he knew would make me gasp and moan. And I did moan, but the sound was quickly swallowed by his kiss as his fingers slipped between my legs.

“Goddess,” I breathed, breaking the kiss as my head fell back against the pillows. The pressure was building already just from the sensation of his fingers teasing my entrance. I was already slick with want, and each circle he made around my clit just added to the wetness.

“Look at me,” Elijah commanded softly, and I forced my eyes open to meet his gaze. The intensity there nearly undid me.

His fingers continued their maddening pace, bringing me to the edge and then backing off just when I thought I might tip over. It was exquisite torture.

“Elijah, please,” I begged, my hips moving restlessly against his hand.

“Please what?” he asked, his lips curving into a knowing smile.

“You know what,” I growled, nipping at his lower lip.

He slowed his pace. “Say it.”

I writhed, but obliged. “Please. Make me come, please.”

Instead of answering, he shifted down my body, replacing his fingers with his mouth. The first touch of his tongue had me crying out, my hands fisting in the sheets. The pressure built again, faster this time, and when he slipped two fingers fully inside of me, I came before I even had a chance to anticipate it.

Before I could catch my breath, Elijah was moving up my body again, positioning himself between my thighs. I felt him, hard and ready against me, and wrapped my legs around his waist to tug him closer.

He entered me in one smooth thrust, and we both groaned at the familiar sensation. For a moment, we stayed like that, joined completely, our eyes locked. Then he began to move, hips slowly sweeping back and forth with practiced strokes.

The familiar heat was building in my veins again, but it was different this time—controlled, contained, channeled into the pleasure that was mounting with each of Elijah’s thrusts. I wasn’t afraid of it. If anything, it enhanced the experience, like my body was finally learning to use the fire for something other than destruction, which was a good sign.

Suddenly, Elijah rolled us over, so that I was on top, straddling him. The new position sent him deeper, and I moaned, bracing my hands on his chest as I began to ride him.

His hands gripped my hips, guiding my movements, while his eyes raked over my body with undisguised appreciation. I let my head fall back, reveling in the sensation, in the power of having this strong, powerful man completely at my mercy.

I looked down at him, half-lidded, biting my lip. The moment our eyes locked, his rolled back, jaw clenching as a low growl rumbled in his chest. I leaned down and muffled the sound with my mouth.

Without breaking the kiss, Elijah sat up, wrapping his arms around me so we were chest to chest but still joined. We rocked together like that, trading deep, passionate kisses as our movements grew more desperate.

When I felt his rhythm falter, I knew he was close. I was too, and I wanted to reach our peak together.

With three final twists of my hips, it happened. The pleasure was like a bucket of warm water had been dumped over my head, shocking yet perfect at the same time. He followed me over the edge at the exact same moment, like he’d been waiting for that final contraction of my muscles to finally find his release.

Eventually, once we’d both caught our breath, Elijah eased himself out of me. The sudden loss of his warmth left me feeling both relaxed and yearning, and I stretched out on the bed, moving languidly like a cat in a shaft of sunlight.

Elijah turned to me as he sat on the edge of the bed. His eyes roamed my body with appreciation, yes, but something else—worry. “Do you need a cold shower?” he asked, glancing at my palms as if they might shoot fire.

I held up my hands and studied them. They were warm, but not unbearably so. “Actually… I think I’m okay,” I said.

He tilted his head. “You’re sure?”

I nodded, wondering if I was getting better at controlling it. That would be a miracle. But I hardly dared to hold onto that hope, because if there was another accident, I might beat myself up even more for it.

“Well,” Elijah said, standing and striding toward the bathroom, “I could certainly use a shower. And I would like my wife to join me.”

Wife. The word still sent a pleasant thrill through me, and I couldn’t help but smile as I followed Elijah into the bathroom.

As it turned out, we didn’t just shower.

We made love a second time in the shower, my back pressed against the cool tile as hot water cascaded over us both. Then we made love a third time against the bathroom sink, and only then did my lips accidentally burn a mark into Elijah’s shoulder, although it only made him groan with pleasure and come even harder than the two times before.

By the time we made it back to bed, we were both exhausted but satisfied, our bodies pleasantly sore from our exertions. I curled up against Elijah’s side, his arm wrapped securely around me, and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Morning came too soon, sunlight streaming through the gaps in the curtains, painting strips of gold across the rumpled sheets. I was still wrapped in Elijah’s arms, my head on his chest, our legs tangled together. For a moment, I just lay there, enjoying his warmth.

A knock on the bedroom door made me stir, although Elijah merely grunted in his sleep. Sighing softly, I carefully extricated myself from his embrace, trying not to wake him as I slid out of bed.

I grabbed my dressing gown from the back of the door and pulled it on, tying it securely around my waist before opening the door a crack. I expected to see a housekeeper, or perhaps Thea asking for breakfast.

But it was Lena who stood in the hallway, her bandaged wrist a stark reminder of yesterday’s events. She looked apologetic for disturbing us.

“I’m sorry to wake you,” she said, “but there’s a visitor downstairs.”