“That’s okay,” he said. “You can take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”
Something warm and painful lodged in her chest then. The kind of pain that came from healing, from the slow stitching together of old wounds. She leaned in and kissed him, soft and full of gratitude. “But I do want to be alone with you. Just… maybe not too far from England. Not yet.”
His grin turned wicked, slow-spreading. “Well,” he said, voice dropping, “I can take you somewhere nice right now, if you’d like.”
She laughed, even as heat stirred low in her belly. “Oh, can you?”
He kissed her again, mouth pressing to hers with more intent this time, more weight. His hand slid under the covers, tracing the curve of her hip, his thumb dragging along bare skin in a way that made her exhale sharply.
“You tell me,” he whispered.
His mouth found the hollow beneath her ear, and she arched into him without thinking. Her body responded before her mind had the chance to catch up. There was something about mornings with him—about the quiet, the warmth, the promise of a day stretched wide open—that made everything feel more tender. More charged.
His fingers traveled slowly, learning her again. Every dip and swell of her body, every place that made her sigh. She felt herself opening under his touch, unguarded in a way she never used to be. He had peeled her open layer by layer, never rushing, never prying. Just steady. Just patient.
“This is why you don’t want to leave the house?” he murmured against her collarbone, his lips brushing like a tease.
“Yes,” she breathed.
He smiled against her skin. “I thought so.”
His hand moved higher, and she gasped, her back arching instinctively. Heat pooled in her stomach, sharp and sweet, and she reached for him, needing him closer.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured. “Always.”
He kissed her again, deeper this time, and her breath hitched. Every inch of her was awake now—every nerve attuned to the slide of his skin, the weight of his body, the heat of his mouth. He kissed her like he meant to take his time, like this was their first and last and only morning.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer, and he groaned, low and ragged. The sound shot straight through her.
“Norman,” she whispered, her voice breaking on his name.
“Yeah?”
“Don’t be gentle.”
He stilled for a heartbeat, then pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. His own had darkened, something raw flickering beneath the surface.
“You sure?”
She nodded, breathless. “Yes.”
That was all he needed.
He kissed her hard then, his hand sliding down her thigh, anchoring her. And then they weren’t talking anymore. They weren’t thinking. They were moving together, urgent and sure and hungry. She lost herself in the heat of him, the strength of him, the way he knew her body like it was his. The way he never asked for permission, but always waited for it anyway.
She arched beneath him, her body aching—a hollow, desperate need that pulsed in time with her heartbeat.He kissed her like a man starved, like her mouth held every answer he’d ever needed.And maybe it did.Maybe the taste of her was the only truth he’d ever craved.
His hands roamed,relearning the map of her with rough devotion—the dip of her waist, the swell of her hips, the shudder that wracked her when his thumbs brushed the sensitive skinof her nipples. But there was no patience now, no teasing exploration. He gripped her hips hard enough to bruise, yanking her against him, and the contact was so sharp, soblisteringly perfect, that her gasp fractured into a moan.
“Norman—”
“I know.”His voice was gravel and flame.”I know.”
He slid inside her in one slow, devastating motion, stretching her until she cried out, her hands flying to his shoulders, her nails biting into sweat-slick skin. There was no gentleness this time, no playful torment—just thefierce, relentless cadence of their bodies, the slap of flesh, the wet sounds of their joining. The air thickened with the scent of sex and salt, their mingled breaths and whispered cursestwining like smoke in the dim light.
It was rougher than before. Messier.A collision of love and lust and something darker, something that tasted like forever.Each thrust dragged her closer to the edge, her muscles fluttering around him, her breath coming in shallow, broken gasps.
“Please—”She didn’t know what she was begging for, only that she’d die if he stopped.
