“Please,” I moan, arching beneath him. “Let me come.”
“Tell me how much you want to carry my babies. Tell me you’ll stay here forever.”
Euphoria floods my heart. Rowland wants me as much as I want him. I finally have security. Love. A future.
“I want it all,” I say through panting breaths.
“Tell me what you want.”
“Please, breed me,” I beg, my voice hoarse with need. “Make me pregnant.”
His eyes flare. Something inside him snaps. He slams into me harder, his thrusts wild, hungry, raw. “Such a good girl, begging for my seed. I’ll fill you so deeply, you’ll be dripping fordays.”
His words send electricity through my core. I’ve never wanted anything more than this: to be claimed, filled, owned so completely by this man who killed to protect me.
“The estate needs a mistress. And an heir. And you’re going to give me one. I’ll make you so round and full that you can’t leave me even if you wanted to.”
“You have me, Rowland,” I say with a gasp. “I’ll never leave.”
“That’s right. Because you’ll be tied to me forever.” His rhythm falters as he gets closer to the edge. “I’ll make those glorious tits heavy with milk, make your belly stretch tight with my baby. Everyone will know you’re mine.”
The image he paints of us together forever pushes me over the edge. I come apart beneath him, crying out as waves of pleasure crash over every nerve ending. Rowland follows seconds later, burying himself deep as he fills me with hot fluid.
Afterward, we lie tangled together, our breathing slowly returning to normal. His hand rests on my stomach, as if he’s already imagining the life we might have created.
“We’re going to be happy here together,” I murmur against his chest.
“More than happy,” he replies, his arms tightening around my waist. “We’re going to have everything. The money, the estate, the life we deserve.”
I smile into his chest, already planning our future. With Blanche’s inheritance and Rowland’s new identity as Edward Rochester, we’ll have wealth, security, respectability. But more than that, we’ll have each other.
Two killers bound by love. And by what we’ve done to survive. And if anyone ever threatens what we’ve built, we’ve already proven what we’re willing to do to protect it.
FORTY-SEVEN
EPILOGUE
SIX MONTHS LATER
I wake up in the master suite of Rochester Manor. Sunlight pours through the tall windows overlooking the gardens, penetrating the silk curtains. The bed I’m lying on is wide enough to accommodate four and a hell of a step up from the old servant’s quarters.
Rowland shifts at my side, his arm pulling me closer, his lips grazing my neck. These past months have been blissful beyond belief. Each day, he brings me something new, whether it’s flowers from the garden, jewelry that belonged to his grandmother, or a wonderful dish he conjured up in the kitchen. He even brings me his favorite books, wanting to share the happier moments of his childhood.
And the sex is incredible.
We fuck like animals, twice or three times a day, as if he’s making up for decades of enforced celibacy. He’s possessive. Primal. Feral. I’ve never in my life felt like I’ve belonged to a man so completely. He touches me like he’s starving, like I’m his only salvation.
“Good morning, my beautiful little pet,” he says, kissing my shoulder. His hard cock settles between my ass cheeks, sending a shiver up my spine.
“Morning,” I start to say, but my stomach heaves. Bile shoots up my throat like I’ve been poisoned.
I bolt out of bed, race for the bathroom, and barely make it to the toilet before I’m puking so hard my ribs ache. Tears gather in the corners of my eyes. What the hell did I eat?
Rowland appears behind me and gathers my hair off my face. As I throw up, he rubs my spine in time with my convulsing stomach. “Easy, pet. Let it out.”
I barely hear him through my retching. I can’t even remember the last time I felt so awful. It subsides, and I lean against the toilet seat, panting and spent. When the worst passes, I slump against him, wiped out and shaky.
“Must be food poisoning,” I say with a groan.
