Chapter 63 CHAPTER 63
Good loving
The night had been a blur of desperation and want, grief and need twined so tightly that neither Ares nor Tessa could tell where one ended and the other began. When the first pale hints of dawn crept through the curtains, they were still entangled, bodies dripping with sweat, hearts beating in fear.
Tessa stirred first, her lashes fluttering against her cheeks. For a moment, she looked around in dazed confusion, as though waking from a dream. Then her gaze fell on Ares, stretched beside her, his strong arm draped protectively across her waist, and the reality of what they’d done hit her like a jolt.
She should have pushed him away. She should have remembered that their children were missing, that she had no right to find comfort in the man who had once been her undoing. But the truth was undeniable: last night, in his arms, she hadn’t felt like a grieving mother or a woman hunted by the world. She had simply felt loved and needed.
Ares shifted, blinking awake. His gaze landed on her instantly, sharp even in the bleary haze of morning. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, unexpectedly, he leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead.
“I’ll make you breakfast,” he murmured, as if the act were the most natural thing in the world.
Tessa blinked, stunned into silence as he slid out of bed, pulling on his rumpled shirt. She lay there, staring at the ceiling, listening to the creak of floorboards and the faint clatter of pans downstairs.
Breakfast from Ares…
She couldn’t remember the last time someone had cared enough to feed her, to nurture her in such a simple, human way. Tears pricked her eyes, but she forced them back. She wouldn’t cry again, not in front of him.
The smell of sizzling eggs and toasted bread filled the air when she finally dragged herself downstairs. Ares stood at the stove, his sleeves rolled to the elbows, the sight so absurdly domestic that it almost made her laugh.
“You cook?” she asked, her voice scratchy from the night’s tears.
He glanced over his shoulder, one corner of his mouth quirking upward. “Yes.”
She sat at the table, watching him move with surprising ease, frying eggs, arranging toast, pouring coffee. For a man who commanded plenty of men and made empires tremble, he looked strangely at home in her kitchen.
When he set the plate in front of her, she hesitated. Then, slowly, she picked up the fork and took a bite. Warmth spread through her chest, chasing away some of the cold that had settled there since the children vanished.
“You didn’t have to,” she murmured.
“I wanted to,” he replied simply, sitting across from her. His dark eyes never left hers, as though willing her to eat, to live, to keep fighting.
They ate in silence, but it wasn’t heavy, it was intimate, fragile, something neither of them dared disturb.
When the plates were empty, Tessa leaned back, her gaze flicking to the faint bruise along Ares’ collarbone where her teeth had grazed him the night before. Heat rushed to her cheeks.
“You should go,” she whispered, though her voice lacked conviction. “You have work to attend to. I’ll drop by the police station.”
He stood, circling the table until he was in front of her. His fingers brushed her jaw, tilting her face upward.
“Is that what you really want?” he asked softly.
Her lips parted, but no words came. Because the truth was, she didn’t want him to go. She wanted to forget the gnawing terror for just a little longer. She wanted to feel his weight against her, his mouth on her skin, his strength surrounding her.
When he kissed her, she didn’t resist.
This time, it wasn’t frantic or grief fueled. It was slow, sweet…lips and tongues that spoke of something deeper than either of them dared admit. He lifted her into his arms effortlessly, carrying her back to the bedroom.
The sunlight streamed through the curtains as he laid her down, undressing her with patient reverence, his fingers lingering on every curve, every scar, every inch of skin he had missed for far too long.
Tessa trembled beneath him, her body arching, her breaths coming faster. He kissed her throat, her chest, her stomach, until she was gasping, clutching at the sheets. When he finally hit into the pussy, it was slow, unhurried…that made her moan his name.
“Ares…” She moaned.
“God…Tessa, you have a very sweet pussy.” Ares muttered as he fucked her harder.
This was their first sex and it was beautiful. Right now there were no kidnappers, no enemies, no missing children. There was only Ares and Tessa.
Afterward, she lay draped across his chest, her hair damp with sweat, her breathing ragged. His fingers traced idle patterns on her back, his lips brushing her temple.
“Ares,” she whispered.
His chuckle rumbled against her skin. “Tessa Monroe…” He lowered his lips and sucked on her nipple.
The illusion couldn’t last. Reality came knocking soon after Ayisha returned, her face drawn and tired.
She found Ares in the hallway, straightening his shirt, and pulled him aside. Her voice was low but sharp, her eyes filled with suspicion.
“Tell me the truth,” she demanded. “Do you have anything to do with this kidnapping? Did you stage it to get close to her or take the kids?”
Ares froze, his jaw tightening. For a long moment, he said nothing, simply staring at her as if weighing whether she deserved the truth. Then, in a voice like steel, he said:
“No. I would never endanger my own children. Whatever else you think of me, Ayisha, remember that.”
Before Ayisha could respond, a voice cut through the tension from behind.
“That’s…actually a valid angle I didn’t consider.”
They both turned to find Tessa standing at the top of the stairs, wrapped in a robe, her face filled with suspicion. Her eyes flicked between them, suspicion glinting where moments ago there had been warmth.
“Ares, where are my children?”