I kiss her lightly, tasting her lips. “They can visit us anytime.”
Her smile is radiant. Genuine. “I never thought this would end. I thought we’d be running forever.” She touches her stomach—that small swell where our child grows—and marvels, “But now it feels like everything is going to be okay.”
I cover her hand with mine, pressing both our palms against her abdomen. Against our baby. “It is okay. We’re free.”
“I want a lot of children, Kieran.” She looks up at me, her eyes bright. “I want a big family. I want noise and chaos and—”
“You can have as many as you want.” I lean down and capture her mouth in a deep kiss, pouring eight hundred years of longing into it. “A dozen, if that’s what you desire.”
She kisses me back, her hands threading through my hair, and I feel her body come alive beneath mine. When she pulls away, she’s breathing hard, her pupils dilated.
Before I can process what’s happening, she rises up and straddles me, her thighs bracketing my hips. Her fingers find the buttons of my shirt, but she doesn’t bother with them. Instead,she grabs the fabric and tears, slicing through the expensive material like it’s paper.
Buttons scatter across the bed.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice dropping an octave.
She grins down at me, looking wicked and playful and completely irresistible. “Practicing.”
My cock hardens instantly, pressing against the confines of my pants. She leans over me and starts kissing her way down my chest, her lips trailing fire across my skin. Her tongue flicks against my collarbone, then lower, exploring every ridge of muscle.
I grab her hair in my fist, tugging just hard enough to make her gasp.
“You know how I feel about you trying to take control in bed,” I growl.
She looks up at me through her lashes, and there’s a challenge in her eyes. “What are you gonna do about it?”
A primal urge courses through me. I lift her by the waist—easily, since she weighs nothing—and set her back down on top of me, positioning her exactly where I want her.
“If you want to be in charge,” I say, my voice dark with promise, “then you’re going to ride me.”
Her breath catches. I watch her pupils blow wide, watch the pulse at her throat start to race.
“Kieran—”
“Take off your clothes.” It’s not a request.
She hesitates for just a moment, then reaches for the hem of her nightgown. I watch as she pulls it up and over her head, revealing inch after inch of smooth skin. No bra. No underwear. Just her, naked and perfect in the dim light of our bedroom. That small bump in her belly where our child grows makes something possessive and fierce twist in my chest.
“Fuck.” Even after all this time, she takes my breath away.
She reaches for my pants, fumbling with the button. I let her struggle for a moment, enjoying the flush that spreads across her cheeks, then I lift my hips and help her push them down.
When I spring free, she bites her lip.
“Go on, then,” I say, my hands settling on her hips. “Take control.”
She arranges herself above me, her hands bracing on my chest. I can feel her heat, can feel how ready she is, and it takes every ounce of self-control not to flip her over and drive into her.
She sinks down slowly, taking me inside her, and we both groan.
“That’s it,” I rumble, my fingers digging into her hips. “Take all of me.”
She does, inch by torturous inch, until I’m fully sheathed inside her. Her head falls back, her mouth falling open on a silent cry, and I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.
Then, she starts to move.
Slowly at first, rocking her hips in a rhythm that makes my vision blur. I guide her, my hands on her waist, showing her the angle, the speed, the way to make it good for both of us.
