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“Yesss,” she moaned.
He did it again, holding and grinding when he sank to the hilt. Her arms tightened around his neck, thighs flexing as she rolled her hips against his, purely using the strength from her legs. Bloody hell, she was so strong.
Always taking what she needed without apology.
“More,” she demanded.
He gave it.
He drove into her, hands digging into the flesh of her arse. Every thrust wrenched a sob from her. Her nails tore down his back, her cries falling over his skin. These were the marks he wanted forever imprinted on his skin. Ones to replace the others.
His ballocks drew up, the pleasure coiling tight, throbbing down his shaft. She bit down where his neck met his shoulder, her muffled cry blending with the rumble of the storm. Her body jerked against him. It took every ounce of restraint he had not to come.
As soon as she softened against him, he pushed her back against the support, pulled out, free hand shooting to his cock. His hand shuttled over his shaft, nothing but a blur. His hoarse yell joined the raging squall surrounding them, and his seed coated her stomach.
He collapsed against her, forehead falling to her shoulder. He struggled to regain his breath, lungs working forcefully in his chest. Gentle fingers played with his hair, coaxing him back to calm.
When he could finally take in a normal breath, he pulled back. A lazy, sated smile curled her swollen lips. Something glimmered in her shadowed eyes. She lifted her arms up and over his head, then slowly brought them down to where his seed glimmered on her belly. She dragged her fingers through it, massaging it into her skin. His lungs stalled, and a bone-deep want snaked through him. A want to cover her until she was dripping in him.
She grinned, and he had a feeling she could tell exactly what he was thinking.
He untied her wrists, and she slid off the ledge on wobbly legs. Well, that wouldn’t do. He needed to get her home. He quickly refastened his falls, then gathered their discarded garments and her boots. He glanced out at the still-raging storm.
“We make a run for it?” She stepped up to his side.
He glanced at her and frowned. “While you’re naked?”
She popped a shoulder. “It’s not as though anyone can see anything in that deluge. You can hardly see a few lengths in front of you.”
“You’re barefoot.” Not to mention she could barely stand. Absolutely not. He shoved their items into her arms, then scooped her up against his chest.
“You’re going to run and carry me all the way to my cottage?” There was so much skepticism in her voice.
“It hurts, Miss Dawson. The doubt. It hurts.”
She chuckled. “I’d love nothing more than being proved wrong. Show me that brute strength, Duke. Maybe it’ll even inspire me…”
Rafe’s body heated.
He wouldn’t complain about that at all. He shifted her so he had a secure grip. “Ready?”
She buried her head in his neck and nodded.
He took off into the storm, the rain hitting him like a slap as soon as he left the shelter of the gazebo. She let out a squeak and her arms tightened around his neck.
“Bloody fucking cold!” she screeched into his neck.
They were drenched within steps; the cold warring with his heated skin. But all he could do was laugh. And she joined him as he charged through the downpour to her cottage. He couldn’t think of anything he’d rather be doing more.
25
Rafe
“Thank you for joining Sebastian and me for lunch, Raphael.” Abigail caught his gaze, lips tilted softly.
Rafe nodded quickly. A part of him was touched…and the other part mortified. Because he knew why they were on their way to a picnic on the Ironcrest Castle grounds. After how dinner had gone, Abigail had clearly realized sharing a meal in that room was not going to happen for Rafe. But she wanted to spend time with him and had arranged for what she’d referred to as a family picnic. Family. A band cinched around his lungs.
This visit had been exactly as he’d expected and…hadn’t been anything like he’d expected. He hadn’t been ready for Abigail. He hadn’t been ready for Sebastian.
