Page 22 of All Mixed Up

His whisper.

“Yesss. That is it, mon reve. That is très parfait. Just…like…that.”

Just before my third climax rocked every molecule of my body, one overriding thought dominated my mind.

I was so screwed.

In more ways than one.

25 Days and Counting

We fell asleep in a tangle of sweat and sheets—and for the first time in a long time, I was as comatose as the dead for eight hours straight.

In the morning—at least I thought it was still morning—I found myself the sole occupant of the bed. But burling the cotton against my face instantly brought his smell back. I allowed myself to get dizzy-drunk on the scent, drenching my senses with expensive bergamot and sexy cloves and manly cedar, as memories from last night burned the backs of my eyes.

“Holy. Shit,” I finally murmured. Lucien Paget, you are one fine fuck machine.

I rolled to my side, reveling in the feel of the expensive sheets against the sore spots beneath my waistline, and succumbed to a soft groan.

Correction. Half of a groan.

Because that was when steady footsteps vibrated the floorboards in the next room.

“Crap!” I spurted. He was still here.

I didn’t want to be as psyched about that as I was, but swiftly accepted the massive fail in that checkbox. Maybe I’d be more successful about appearing casual and aloof when he appeared at the door.

So said Princess Belle, before the Beast transformed into a combination of god and man.

Gulp.

“Bonjour.” The word flowed like silk from his sinful lips, taking my breath away. That was nothing compared to the effect of staring at his chest in the full light of day. The expanse was like a sculpture, curve upon curve of graceful muscle, dotted by dusky nipples that had tasted so delicious last night…

Onward, before your thoughts get you into real trouble.

My stare roamed down. Down some more. Then even more…over the abs resembling the peaks of the Alps…

To the rest of his flawless nudity.

“Good…morning,” I finally uttered.

“Are you certain?” He strolled over, canting a curious gaze at what must have been my little scowl.

“Well, it’s damn good for me.” I scooted up and leaned against the headboard. “But maybe not for everyone on Mount Olympus, seeing as how they’re short by one god.”

“You mean goddess.”

He didn’t allow me even a snort of derision at that. Inside three seconds, he’d lunged back on the bed and hauled my body back under his. The sweep of his lips brought the tastes of strong coffee and apples—dear God, yum—as he tucked his arms beneath me, wrapping me tighter against him. By the time we were done, we lay side-by-side from the waist up. Below, we were a twine of legs and sheets, pretty similar to how we’d slept all night long. By now, it felt natural.

And kind of wonderful.

A wonderful I could not allow myself to get used to. That truth blared brighter than the sun streaming across the floor and illuminating his torso like liquid gold. This Atlas wasn’t just a man from a different country or a businessman in a different tax bracket. He was a creature from a different world.

But that also meant it wouldn’t do any harm to shrug, smirk, and murmur, “Fine. You win. I’m a goddess.”

His smile started in his eyes. Flowed to the tips of his fingers, warming them against my face, as he lifted me for another kiss. No tongue this time—damn—but what he denied in contact was made up for in finesse. Those bad wolf lips were created for giving a woman pleasure in many, many ways.

“So amenable, mon reve.”