Because his voice said low and sweet, “Sleep, Maddie,” and my mind took that moment in a vague way to realize all throughout the night he’d called me nothing but Maddie, Madeleine, my dove or my poppy.
And this vague thought made my insides warm.
That was when I fell was asleep.
Chapter Nine
Heart Mighty As Goliath
Apollo did not sleep.
Maddie on top of him, her knees high and pressed tight to his sides taking some of her weight, his body gladly supported the rest of it.
Drifting his fingers through the silken weight, he smelled the citrus of her hair, the lavender scent of her skin, both mixed with the aroma of sweat and sex.
He stared at dark ceiling thinking he’d never smelled anything more beautiful.
And it was not Ilsa’s smell. After she bathed, Ilsa’s skin smelled of roses, her hair of mint.
Maddie shifted slightly and he naturally slid out of her. When he did, his seed mingled with her juices glided from her, drifting between the juncture of his thighs, their essence mixed, the most intimate parts of them joined, he stared at the ceiling thinking he’d never felt anything sweeter.
Further, he was struggling with why this would be so, considering the depth of love he had for his wife. Not to mention, the depth of passion they shared in their bed.
However, he’d never had anything with Ilsa like he’d had with Madeleine last night.
It was, of course, the adela tea.
But now he was no longer under the influence of adela tea and still these thoughts assailed him.
And last, he was thinking he’d made yet another colossal mistake.
He should have gagged her, tied her to the bed and left her.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he took advantage.
Coming unraveled by her entreaty, allured by her beauty and her touch, aroused by her sharing that she’d take care of herself if he left…gods, aroused by it all, he’d taken advantage.
He couldn’t even blame it on losing control. It was slipping but he hadn’t lost it.
No, he wanted her.
He wanted her before she pressed to him and begged, and he definitely wanted her during.
He’d made her swear no recriminations but she was under the influence of adela tea. He knew the effects of that brew. She didn’t know what she was saying but he knew she’d say anything to get what the tea made her need.
And he’d given it to her and in doing so, he took.
He had no trust of hers to break. If he had, he’d broken it in Fleuridia before he left her. But if he’d gained any since their reunion (which was doubtful), last night, he’d have shattered it.
When her eyes opened later that morning, the effects of the tea abated, she’d know it.
And she’d hate him for it.
He sighed, closing his eyes and ceasing running his fingers through her hair so he could wrap his arms around her, certain this was all he’d get. When she woke, she’d be lost to him.
For good.