Broken Dove (Fantasyland #4)(196)
“I do not know their plans, dove. It is simply that you should know that he might be here and if he is, they have plans to use him. Thus you must be alert.”
“Well, whatever,” she stated breezily, and Apollo blinked. “They’re whacked if they think I can’t tell the difference. I mean, seriously? First of all, he doesn’t have a hand. And secondly, he’s so not you.”
Although her words pleased him—greatly—his eyes narrowed on her in surprise. “You’re unconcerned?”
“Uh…in a million years, would you allow Pol to ever hurt me again?”
Gods.
“No.” The word was firm, his voice was low, but yet again his chest was tight. “Not in a million years.”
“So then,”—she shrugged—“whatever. Bring it on. Maybe you can cut his other hand off this time.”
He stared at her.
Then he clasped her close and burst out laughing.
When he was done, she was grinning at him. She leaned in, touched her mouth to his smiling lips and pulled away to twist to the table by the chair. She carefully placed Christophe’s story there and twisted back.
Then she reached behind her to curl her fingers around his wrist, pulling his arm from around her. Her hand slid over his so that she could press it deep to her stomach.
She did all this holding his eyes.
Once she had his hand in place, she said softly, “We have something to celebrate, baby.”
They absolutely did.
She leaned in again and the distance was not vast, but Apollo met her halfway. He did this surging out of the chair, holding her to him.
He accepted her kiss as he walked her to the bed.
Once he had her in it, she accepted his kiss.
After she accepted it, he gave her a great deal more.
Chapter Thirty-One
Love Is Everything
I tapped the feather of the quill to my lips, staring at the blank sheet of paper, totally at a loss.
“Maddie?”
At his call, my eyes went to Apollo.
“Hmm?”
He was fully dressed, prepared to take off on Torment and pump arrows into bunnies and deer in the hunt.
I was in my nightgown, robe and fur slippers, sitting at the writing desk in our room, trying not to think of my man off pumping arrows into bunnies and deer.
I watched him look to the desk then at me before he asked, “What are you doing?”
“Writing Chris a note,” I answered and shifted my gaze to the paper.
Apollo’s voice was getting closer as he noted, “Dove, he’s just four doors down the hall.” I looked back at him as he finished, “Why would you be writing him a note?”
“He didn’t make a show of giving me his story, Lo,” I explained. “I don’t want to make him uncomfortable when I return it but I do want to tell him how much I liked it. So I’m writing him a note.”
He stopped by the desk and his face got soft as his lips murmured, “Ah.”
It was at his “ah,” which only Apollo could make sexy, belatedly, my eyes traveled over his lusciousness wearing his deep green sweater and brown beeches, and I lost focus on my task.
I lifted my gaze to his face and said, “We don’t have trains, phones or scoop-shaped Fritos here, but I’m seeing a variety of pluses. Men on my…I mean, in the other world don’t look hot when they go hunting.”
Apollo ignored my remark about him looking hot and asked, “Scoop-shaped Fritos?”
“Corn chips that are awesome normally but these ones are especially designed for dipping which increases their awesomeness exponentially mostly because I haven’t yet met a dip I did not like,” I replied.
His brows narrowed telling me that clearly didn’t cut it as an explanation.
“Food,” I said simply. “Food that I enjoy.”
Upon my answer, he bent to me and offered quietly. “I’ll give Valentine a diamond to bring some back for you.”
Only Apollo would offer a diamond for Fritos.
Seriously.
My guy was the bomb.
“I’m not sure that’s an equal trade,” I shared.
“Anything my dove wants is worth whatever it takes to give it to her,” he returned.
Seriously.
My guy was the bomb.
In that moment, sitting in my robe and nightgown, looking up at his beauty, carrying his child, knowing I’d soon have his name (well, a name I already had but the good one this time), I decided he needed to know that so I told him, “You’re the bomb.”
His eyes lit with humor.
“I take it that’s good,” he remarked.
“You take it right,” I replied.
He smiled.
I tipped my head back hoping he’d understand the invitation.
He did. Leaning further, he gave me a short, sweet, but thankfully wet kiss, the wet part being a touch of the tips of our tongues.
Delicious.
He pulled away an inch but kept hold of my eyes. “Anything you say to Christophe will be fine. Don’t fret over it. Just be you.”
Just be me.
Apollo thought that was enough.
And he taught me it was.
More than enough.
A beautiful lesson to learn.
“Okay,” I whispered.
He lifted a hand to slide his fingers in the side of my hair and curled them around the back. Once positioned, he pulled my head down so he could touch his lips to the top of my hair.