Bloodguard

chapter 35

Maeve

My trembling hands relax to the sound of the waterfall on the other side of the lake.

My racing heart… Well, that’s something else. It pounds against my ribcage as it demands I give every last bit of it to Leith.

I unfasten the back of my dress. Leith would never pressure me. He wouldn’t even ask. And for that reason and so many others, I want him to have it. To have me . Slowly, my clumsy fingers tug each button free, and I pull one sleeve down, then the other, exposing all that I am. Every curve. Every bit of pretty.

Every flaw. Every imperfection. Every piece of me that I’ve respected and even more I’ve wished away. For Leith, I bare it all.

He quiets, drinking me in. But his chest rises and falls fast, and his eyes are darker, the pupils dilated so that only a thin rim of pale green shimmers in the moonlight.

I hold my hand out to him, and he takes it. His thick, curved lashes fan over his eyes as he bows his head and kisses the back of my hand. “Are you certain?”

I’ve never been more sure of anything. “Yes, Leith—”

In the next heartbeat, I’m in his arms, his mouth hot on mine, tongue teasing and tasting. I gasp against his mouth at the feel of his big, rough hands gliding over my skin.

There’s a clang when he drops his scabbard to the grass, a pull of cloth as he removes his cape, a slide of leather as he peels off his boots, and a slip of fabric as he loses his breeches.

Leith stops briefly to catch his breath and lift his shirt over his head, his dark hair falling to cascade against his shoulders. Mesmerized eyes skim over my face and drag down my body.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispers.

Then his hands are trailing along my skin, his lips following close behind. One hand strokes my waist, testing the side of my hip and curve of my ass, his fingers gripping me as if anticipating the way we will fit together. The other hand caresses my neck, touches my face, angling my head up so he can begin a leisurely exploration along my throat with his mouth and fingertips.

My back arches as Leith threads his fingers through my hair, sweeping his luscious mouth over every portion of damaged skin. He walks us backward until the trunk of the adoni wisteria tree is pressed against my back, his hard body against my front.

My breasts are sensitive, the hardened tips rasping against the muscles of his chest. He moves his torso back and forth, and I gasp. He smirks against my lips and then lifts each breast and cups them, rubbing across the tips with his thumbs.

I can’t control my breaths.

Leith’s shoulders are twice the breadth of mine and thick with corded muscle. Every raised scar and wound on his body—so many that I personally healed—makes me want to do as he does and reverently kiss each one. I touch him, my hands skimming over hard muscle and smooth skin.

He has known so much pain, my gladiator.

But this night, I can bring him pleasure. Of that I am profoundly certain.

His hands pluck at my nipples until I’m writhing against him. As I feel that long, hard part of him thrusting up between us, I switch my attention from his shoulders and chest to stroke my hand over the top of him. Leith tears his mouth away with a loud groan.

I’m not alone in this tempest.

He hefts one of my legs up and around his waist. When his hand trails below, I’m hot. Wet. I gasp at the way he touches me, and I use my leg hooked around him to pull him closer so the aching part of me slides over his erection, and he chokes on a muffled curse.

I grin against his mouth and then take us both under again.

His fingers tease a rhythm, dipping in, retreating, somehow making me hotter, more needy, as the incredible sensation building in my core makes my legs shake.

“Stay with me,” he mutters.

As if I could be anywhere else. “Always,” I whisper.

He kisses me, then rests his forehead against mine for a moment.

His thumb makes fast, tiny circles over my sensitive nub, and I tug at his neck and hair, each exquisite stroke of his hands taking me higher. And, oh stars , even higher. When I explode, he holds me through it, drawing each pulse of pleasure until my legs fold.

I’m swept up in the next instant, held close against his chest, wrapped in all that strength and tenderness. I marvel at how a man so formidable, so deadly in the arena, can be so soft, bringing me to such heights of happiness. I smile, and he smiles back.

He lowers me onto the bed of moss I’ve spent so many hours lying upon alone. I draw him in for a kiss, and I pour myself into it. Neither of us is alone anymore.

My trust. My faith. My love.

Yes, love .

This gladiator is kind and good and strong. He’s everything I need and all I’ve ever wanted.

“Leith, I…”

He rests his forehead against mine once again. Then kisses me gently.

He rolls his hips, rocking against me and starting those tiny pulses all over again. On the next stroke, I grab hold of him, bringing his smooth, round head to my core.

He stills. His muscles tense.

I put my heels on the ground and arch up. There is pressure and fullness, and a quick flash of discomfort that is already abating.

Leith shudders and waits.

His body is as taut as a string of a violin, and inside me, his thick length flexes in a way that makes me moan. He withdraws a little and then pushes forward again. The friction—it’s so good. I gasp, and it’s all the encouragement he needs.

He pulls back nearly all the way out and then enters me again. And again.

And again. He starts gently, too gently. I need more of him, and I need it now .

“Leith.” I practically growl his name, spurring him to go faster and deeper until I’m bowing my hips to meet him at every thrust.

I drag my hands down his back, urging him to continue.

And then there’s only the slap of our bodies, our breaths harsh and intermingling, the scent of flowers and grass, summer and skin. Love and lust and pure, unadulterated pleasure.

I scream his name when I come undone again, each pulse dragging him closer, deeper. Leith groans but doesn’t quit. He rides me through pleasure so intense I weep from it. He groans and praises me, his hands moving over my body like he can’t stop touching me.

He slows only enough to roll so that he’s on the ground and I’m seated atop him. When I straighten, he somehow sinks deeper, and I release a low-pitched rumble of shock.

He pumps his hips from below me, and I shudder. “Fuck!”

“Maeve. My sweet, sweet Maeve…we’re just getting started.”