She didn’t think so.
So she clutched his shoulders and hooked her feet behind his hips, aiming to hold him in place. Not just now, this moment, but forever.
She would enjoy that, especially if he kept his thumb circling so persistently round and round that deliciously exciting wee spot he’d discovered.
She really loved that.
But she loved him more and was about to say so, tingly woman’s parts on fire or not.
Unfortunately, before she could break their kiss to tell him how much she enjoyed his tupping, something broke inside her.
She went all stiff-limbed, her hips lifting even higher off their still-made bed, as her entire body shattered, splitting into teeny, tiny pieces. She seemed to spin away into nothingness, the world, and even the Hare’s lovely Scottish Night room, falling away until she was surrounded only by the immeasurably satisfying darkness and the warm, heavy weight of Lucian’s body on top of hers.
For a beat, she feared they were dead.
But then she heard his snoring.
Lucian, the dashing Black Lyon of Lyongate Hall snored to shake the walls, and perhaps even to send the ceiling’s painted stars toppling to the floor.
She hadn’t expected that, or the merriment that bubbled up inside her just listening to him.
Did he know?
She supposed he did, but she’d tactfully not mention it.
Instead, when he wakened, she’d tell him how happy she was to be his bride. How much she loved him and how glad she was that they’d found each other.
And then…
Well, then she’d address another urgent matter.
She’d ask him to tup her again.
