He moved then, faster, finding a rhythm that made her arch into him, that drew little gasps and sighs and whispered pleas. Every time she tightened around him, he had to grit his jaw against his own rising need.
He kept going until she shattered beneath him, her body clenching, head tipping back, a quiet cry slipping free.
Only then did he let himself go —
But not fully.
With an effort that felt like tearing muscle from bone, he pulled free at the last moment, finishing with a rough exhale as he braced a forearm against the headboard.
For a few seconds, the only sound was the ragged rush of their breathing and the soft crackle of the dying fire.
He collapsed carefully beside her, dragging her against his chest without thinking. She came willingly, tucking herself under his arm, her hand resting over his heart.
It hammered too fast.
She was drowsy, boneless, sated in a way that stirred something fierce and tender in him, and he pulled her closer.
“Maxwell,” she murmured, half-asleep already.
He huffed a breath that was almost a laugh. “Aye?”
“I think like ye,” she mumbled, as if it were a secret she didn’t mean to share.
His throat tightened.
He pressed his lips to her hair. “Rest, Ariella.”
She did.
Her breathing evened, her body slack against his, utterly trusting.
He stared up at the dim ceiling, warmth soaking deep into places he’d long considered dead.
This life might work after all.
He could keep her safe. He could share her bed, her laughter, her stubborn, dangerous light. He could give her pleasure until she forgot to want anything else.
And he could do it without giving her an heir.
He had proven that tonight.
He would continue to prove it.
She would be content.He told himself as his eyes drifted shut.She would never ken the difference.
With her curled in his arms and the echo of her soft cries still in his head, Maxwell let himself believe that everything would work out just fine.
16
“Mmm… Maxwell....”
Ariella’s whisper was barely sound at all, and yet it felt as loud as a shout in the stillness of dawn.
The room was dim, the hearth reduced to sleepy embers, and the air held the lingering warmth of bodies that had shared the same bed. Her bed? No.
Nae me bed.
She blinked, still half-caught between sleep and waking, and the truth settled in a slow, incredulous wave.
