From Darkness (Hearts & Arrows Book 3)(97)

He rose to his knees, taking her with him, kissing her deeper. He was so familiar to her, even after all this time. Their nights together skipped through her thoughts, touches, kisses, sighs from so long ago right there, right in front of her. And her body hadn’t forgotten him any less than her heart had.

She’d been a fool to deny him.

But she’d never deny him another thing. Not as long as he loved her.

Jon stood, and so did she, backing into the bed with her arms around his neck. And he laid her down, pressed her into the bed with his long body, the weight of him heavy and solid and perfect.

He broke away and rolled over on his side, his eyes on his fingertips as he traced the line of her jaw, thumbed her bottom lip, trailed down her neck and along her collarbone. And when he reached the place where her heart hammered her ribs, he flattened his palm, felt the beat, met her eyes, kissed her with a deep softness that told her more than words ever could.

Josie broke away after a moment and sat, watching him watching her as she crossed her arms and reached for the hem of her shirt to pull it over her head, her hair falling through the neck like liquid copper over lily-white skin. She turned and leaned over him, slipping her fingers into his hair, lazily draping over him as her hands roamed his face, his jaw, his neck, his chest. When she slipped her fingers under his shirt and across the soft skin over his hard muscles, he hummed into her mouth, his own fingers skating under the band of her jeans.

He rolled her over and slipped his thigh between her legs, pinning her; her hips rolled against him in answer.

It had been so long since she was touched, so long since she felt this, the ache so deep for him, so hot, her body moved on its own. She needed him. She needed him for so much. She’d needed him for so long.

“Please,” she whispered against his lips, his fingers at the band of her jeans.

He popped the button and lowered her zipper, and her entire body flexed at the sound.

“Oh God,” she breathed.

He moved down the bed, grabbing the backs of her boots to pull them off, kicking off his own as he pulled off his shirt. When it was gone, he reached for her jeans. She was already pushing them over her ass and down her thighs, and then they were gone.

His eyes locked between her legs as he climbed onto the bed and threaded his arms under her thighs until his hands were at her waist. And then he pulled, running his nose up the inside of her thigh, his breath hot against her core, his lids fluttering closed as his lips closed over her.

A long, slow shudder worked down her body on the heels of a sigh, her eyes closing and head tipping, the feeling of his tongue sweeping and hands on her hips and his rumbling voice as he moaned into the very center of her. With every brush of his tongue, her hips rolled harder. When his finger slipped into her, her legs clenched his shoulders, her lungs shooting open with a gasp, but he didn’t stop, not until her back arched, not until she breathed his name, not until her fingers were twisted in his hair and she was pulsing around his fingers.

Her body slowed, and so did his, first his lips and then his body as he climbed up her, trailing kisses in the crease of her hip, up her stomach, to her breasts, his thumb grazing her tight nipple through the thin fabric of her bra. She reached under herself to unclasp it, and he rid her of it and brought his lips down to the swell, closing his hot mouth over the peak. With his head cradled in her arms, she arched into him, their legs tangling together, his face buried in her breasts.

He had on too many clothes, she realized very suddenly, and her hands scrabbled down his body for his belt, wanting more skin, wanting his heat, wanting him.

He let her go and leaned back, and she was almost sorry. Until he stood at the end of the bed, his eyes locked on hers as he gripped his belt and unfastened it, unzipped his pants and dropped them. He moved to climb back up to her, pausing to rummage in his bag next to the bed for a condom. And with one knee on the edge of the bed and his eyes on his hands, he rolled it on, gripping his length.

And then he was in her arms.

Their lips met as he nestled between her legs, and she spread her thighs open to let him in, his crown pressing against her, her hips angling for him. And he flexed his hips and filled her up, buried himself in her and held still for a moment, for a breath that broke the kiss, his forehead pressing to hers and their noses brushing.

He pumped his hips, and she was empty; he shifted, and she was full again. Then again, rocking against her, and again, his lips finding hers. Again, her fingers in his hair. Again, her heartbeat racing. And then he whispered her name, the sweetest sound, and her body answered with a shudder that drew him deeper and deeper, deeper as her heart beat, deeper as he came.

Their body slowed, and he kissed her, kissed her with a thousand promises, kissed her with the years behind them and the future riding their breath. And she knew she’d always been his. She would always be his.





The gods broke out in chatter, but someone hissed a, “Shh!” and everyone listened for the alarm to sound.

Hermes stood with a smile and addressed the room. “Ah, ah, ah. There are too many variables yet to claim the win. They need a resolution, a decision, to be on the same page. Anything could happen. Until they’re safe, the game is still on.”

Artemis looked relieved, the tightness in her face slipping away with a breath.

Dita sighed. She’d known it wasn’t over, but the good news was that the pieces had all been lined up for the win. And for the moment, that was about all she could ask for. There was still the matter of Rhodes, and he was a loose cannon. They would find him soon, and none of them knew what he would do.