“Yes, God yes. Anything. Forever. Yours.”
He thrust once more, hard, at just the right angle with a single word. “Peak,” he demanded. And I spilled in great shuddering, whimpering breaths across my chest. A second later his eyes squeezed shut on a groan and then he stilled inside me.
It took a moment for anything but the most involuntary movements to return, but eventually I was forced to consciously unclench every muscle and brush away the tears that had escaped unbidden.
Xander, it seemed, had no such problems because he collapsed all at once atop me in a sweaty, satisfied masculine heap. Hot breaths whispered across the hair on my chest. Once I could convince my arm to move, I buried it in his dark strands, keeping him pressed safely against me.
For long moments, we lay there, catching our breaths as sweat cooled in the night air.
“Say something irreverent, please,” Xander murmured against my chest.
“I think you fucked the irreverence out of me. I’m entirely filled with reverence.”
“That will have to do for present. I’m going to move now, it will feel odd,” he explained. He was right. My whimper was pathetic and I was left feeling wrung out, empty. He reached for the handkerchief to clean us both up.
Eventually, he collapsed alongside me once again, tucking into my chest as I wrapped an arm around his shoulders. He traced the hair he found there with teasing swirls.
“I think I need to paint you like this too. Thoroughly fucked—by me.”
I hummed. “You can paint me any way you’d like. And you can thoroughly fuck me any time you’d like.”
“So it was good?”
“Fuck, Xander. My spine is still soup.”
“Soup?” The mirth was clear in his voice.
“You fucked the sense right out of me. I cannot be responsible for my choice of metaphors.”
“Noted.”
“We have got to find a way to ensure privacy. Because I’m going to want this all the time. Literally.”
“Agreed.” He murmured into my neck. “All the time. Forever.”
Thirty-Four
KILMARNOCK ABBEY, EDINBURGH - SEPTEMBER 13, 1816
Xander,
Your concern over my well-being continues to overwhelm me.
Mother was not soothed by your letter, the first you have written directly to her. She has once again returned to the changeling theory. I suggested we wait to see if the changeling is an improvement over the original before taking rash action. She agreed.
If my new niece reminds you of me in temperament, I am certain I shall find her charming. After all, I am the most delightful person you know.
A friend, you say… It is strange. I heard from Lady Grayson that her brother-in-law packed up and left for Scotland with no warning shortly after you left.Your friend would not happen to have long, cricket-like limbs would they?
Best Wishes,
Davina
P.S. You’re still working on repairs? Just how unsuitable was the place?
XANDER
If there wasa task in the world more infuriating than hanging wallpaper, I didn’t know it. My hatred was readily apparent, a fact Tom found impossibly amusing. It had been a few weeks since Sorcha was at all helpful in repairs—too uncomfortable to manage—but she was happy to provide commentary. Between the two of them, I was ready to throw something.
