Page 39 of Sleeping Redemption
I wanted nothing more than to forget Atlassian’s tender side, the way he catered to my needs above his own. Yet, here he was, doing what he had always done. He was making sure I had exactly what I needed.
He will do it again, you know. He’ll die for you.
The voice echoed in my head, prompting a pained expression to fill my face. Determined to chase away the Devil’s words, I lifted one of the glasses of wine and took a long sip. The cherryand oak notes provided a warmth to chase away the chill in my body.
The ribeyesteak had been cooked to perfection, reminding me of why I had always left the cooking to Atlas. He used to cook most of the meals we shared together outdoors, always gathering the freshest ingredients and taking great care to prepare a feast worthy of kings and queens.
Conversation at the dinner table had been light, mostly because I had been cramming so much food into my face that all I could do was listen. It left an awkward silence between us during the majority of the meal.
I sat back in my chair, cradling my wine glass before finishing the last mouthful.
“That steak was delicious. I don’t know how you always manage to—” I cut my words off, realizing they treaded into reminiscing about the tragic past we shared.
Atlas gave a knowing smile and allowed my words to fall short as he stood. He gathered my plate and paused at my side, leaning over like he was about to kiss the top of my head but abruptly stopped.
Stepping away, he carried the dirty dishes to the sink, stacking them neatly there. “I’m just glad you enjoyed it. Wouldn’t want Sylas coming back here and claiming that I let you starve.”
I smiled lightly, grateful to hear that Sylas wasn’t just cranky with me but with everyone else as well.
Looking out the window above the kitchen sink, Atlas’s lips curved into a bittersweet smile. It was hard to read what he was thinking about at that moment, but it caused something in himto shift. He moved away from the sink and came to my side, easing my wine glass from my hand and setting it on the table.
Lacing his fingers with mine, he pulled me to my feet and guided me to the sliding back door. “Come with me, I want to see something,” was his only explanation for his actions.
Trusting that he wasn’t going to boot my ass into the cold and lock me out of my home, I followed as he led us both outside. The deep blue of the night sky chased away the artwork of colors I had appreciated earlier as the sun had been setting. His hand clutched to mine, keeping it warm despite the wintry temperature. Another snow shower had begun, filling the air all around us with delicately fluffy snowflakes.
Atlas guided me into the middle of my backyard with him and released my hand once he stood right in front of me. His cobalt eyes were full of something so heartfelt it looked nearly painful.
“What are we doing out here?” I asked, the wine only working so much magic into tricking my body that the alcohol would keep me warm out there.
His hands reached out, settling his palms on each of my cheeks before taking a step closer to me. The snow stuck to both of us as we stood still, each unique flake finding a home on our bodies.
Speaking gently, Atlas’s thumb caressed my cheek, pushing a stray lock of blonde hair to the side. “I just wanted to see you as I remembered you last. The snowflakes on your eyelashes...your nose...your lips.”
Time seemed to be suspended between us in that moment as I got lost in his eyes, recalling how he looked while we hiked up the side of St. Cassius. My lungs stalled in my chest, my heart suffering a deep ache as I remembered the man who was prepared to lay down his life for mine.
“Atlassian,” I whispered.
He brought his head down, pressing his forehead to mine, and it rendered me unable to tell him of the storm of emotions crashing inside me.
Hesitantly, he brushed his lips over mine in the barest of touches. The brief connection between us was just enough to feed the tiny flame inside me that I thought to have been extinguished long ago.
My hands came to rest on his forearms, at war with the idea of tearing his hands from my face or drawing him closer. Atlas must have sensed my conflict and pulled away from me.
“I’m sorry, angel. I didn’t mean?—”
Not letting him finish his apology, I pulled myself up against him, my hand coming to the back of his neck as I pressed my lips to his, latching onto him with an intensity of three lifetimes of separation.
Atlas’s arms dropped, circling my waist and squeezing me to him with a tightness that threatened to break me in half. His mouth fiercely worked over mine, the short stubble around his mouth scratching against me.
A chain reaction of firecrackers felt like they were popping off inside of me, driving me to have all of him and for him to take all of me. My fingers slid up the back of his neck, getting tangled in the small ponytail of burnt-honey locks. With my other hand right on top of his firm chest, his heart stammered away just beneath the surface.
We both stumbled in our steps back toward my house, not wanting to break our connection with one another. Unfurling one arm from around my body, Atlas slid open the door, and we clumsily made our way inside. The back of my heel clipped a skinny stand that had a spider plant set on top of it. Both the stand and the pot fell to the floor, the pot breaking into large pieces and unleashing the soil onto my previously clean kitchen floor.
No longer in the freezing cold, the sudden heat of the inside of the house and the desire raging inside of me had me in a frenzy to get this damn sweater off my body. Releasing my hold on him, I yanked on the sweater, pulling it upward until I was forced to separate my mouth from his.
His eyes were filled with a heavy lust and an even heavier reflection of his love for me as he helped lift the sweater over my head until it got tossed onto the floor, leaving me in my leggings and a crimson satin bra.
Before I could catch my breath, he grabbed my face and brought our mouths together again in a searing kiss, forcing my lips to part and our tongues to tangle with one another. Atlas walked me back until my ass hit the edge of the kitchen table.
