She presses against me, bringing her mouth back to mine. We take a step back, our hands racing over each other's body. It’s been nearly two years and I’ve craved her touch every minute of it, but I want to savor this moment—draw it out and make it count.
I try to slow things down a bit. “Remember that time we made love in the barn after you won your cricket championship? You picked hay out of my hair and we smelled of horses for hours.” I smile at the memory myself, and so does she, laughing softly.
“Yeah, I remember. It was one of the best days of my life,” she says, gasping as my kisses race back up the trail I’ve made on her neck. I press her against the window, the cool glass pulling another soft gasp from her. “All of my best days have been with you,” she whispers. Her arms wrap around me and I reach down to scoop her up from under her bottom, prompting her to straddle my waist.
I lay her down on the bed and climb up beside her, my hand touches the inside of her creamy smooth thigh, making its way to her hot center. She closes her eyes, her blonde hair splayed out on the silk sheets, one hand on my shoulder, the other gripping those sheets for support. I only graze her with my fingers, teasing her—and myself—her heat radiating up to greet me. How I want to sink into her and forget the rest of the world and my responsibilities. I just want to make her sing again, like I used to. Her hips rise and fall with wanting and I moan, knowing the next part will be the hardest.
We share another deep, passionate kiss, my tongue running across hers. She grips my forearm with those soft pink manicured hands, a delicate contrast to my hardened, ink-covered arms. I bring my forehead to hers, catching my breath and slowing my heart rate. “I’ve missed you so damn much, Mykaella, my heart. The things I want to do to you and the pleasure I want to give you must wait for now.” I kiss the tip of her nose and sit up. At this point, distance is the only way I can stop myself.
“But,” she says.
“I know. But, like I said, I have some important business to finish. It’s the last thing I must do in order to protect this family for good.”
“What is it you keep going on about, Aksel? What is this order of business you must attend to,” she asks with an irritated huff and starts adjusting her shirt and skirt.
I stifled a groan at how hungry the sight of her so disheveled makes me and work really hard to clear my head.
“I just need to ensure that my existence in your lives again will not make anyone else a target. I know my past dealings with the Warsaw pricks did a real number on our cred, but I plan to rectify that. Please,” I beg her, clasping my hands before me. “Please trust me.”
She looks ready to tell me off, but I must have conveyed the severity of what I needed to do with my eyes because her intense glare softened and she nodded gently in understanding.
“But, this,” I say, pointing between us. “Isn’t over. I plan to finish what I started.” I lean in and kiss her deeply again and am met with the same love and tenderness from her in return.
“Mykaella, my heart, I love you so damn much,” I whisper.
I stand to leave and her hand grabs mine. She gives it a squeeze. “Come back this time, okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Promise me,” she adds.
“I promise.” I promise I will do my very damndest to get back to you babe. Like my life depends on it.
Chapter Eight—Mykaella
That man. I shake my head. Once I am sure Mads is well and truly far enough away, I grab one of the pillows from the king-size, four-poster, trimmed in gold bed we were gifted at our wedding, and scream into it all of my frustrations and curses.
I set the pillow back in its home in the bed and pull the bedding back into place, smoothing it with one hand. With the other, I wipe back a stray tear. I mean, really? I just throw myself at him like some floozy and he takes off! The nerve!
It takes me a few minutes, but I finally calm myself enough to think logically about the situation. Not only has Mads reopened my heart, and sexual desire, but he is taking steps to ensure our family is protected from any future threats from those jerks who got us into this mess in the first place. The feelings in my chest swirl and jump from elated to annoyed and back again. A smile creeps up and I start laughing to myself at how close to ripping that man's shirt off his chest I had come.