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She wanted him to never stop.

Abram latched onto her breast with his mouth, his tongue flipping back and forth against her taut nipple.

He stood back away from her, taking off his suspenders and belt, opening his trousers. They fell to the floor in a heap.

Orris watched, his manhood on full display. She would have been embarrassed by his nakedness, but she was not even shy about her own. She let her legs list to the side, cool air finding her like a lover’s kiss.

When he kneeled, for a moment, she wanted to ask what he was doing, but when he wrapped his hands around her upper thighs and dragged her forward, his mouth covered her mound, his tongue exploring her in the most delicious of ways.

She cried out his name, a whisper on her lips. What exquisite torment, her pulse beating everywhere in her body.

“You are glorious,” he muttered before dipping his head to meet her once again.

She was not sure if it was the push and release of pressure or the wicked words he’d uttered, but a rush akin to an explosion erupted inside her. She could no longer remain coherent as every one of her senses tingled to life.

She clawed and gripped the edge of the desk, for she feared she would fly away.

Before Orris could center herself, Abram rose, spreading her legs wide and running his hand through the slit once more. “I fear I can never leave you again,” he said.

Orris tried to focus as he took his hand that had just been inside her and licked from palm to fingertip.

“Wha—What are you…?” she asked, unsure of what question she even wanted an answer to.

“Tell me, Orris. Do you love me?” he asked, his eyes on hers with such intensity, she nearly squirmed under their weight.

“Yes,” she said.

Abram placed one arm around her waist and lifted her. With the other, he held her leg up as he gently lowered her onto his shaft.

For the briefest of moments, a sliver a pain tore through her body, only to be replaced by a shuddering around his hardness. After a moment, he kissed her, waiting again for her to adjust to the sensation she assumed.

When she nodded against his chest, he moved again. Then again, the pace increasing with each thrust. Over and over, with Orris breaking apart and coming back together, only to start the vicious cycle again.

They reached a fever pitch together, her pressing against him, him easing back then crashing against her, until… until she felt his knees buckle. He leaned against her, his mouth against her ear, and in the final, languid thrusts, he said as he lowered her back onto the desk, “I love you too, Orris Gray.”

In the final moments, as her heart returned to a normal pace with him holding her still, she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, they could never be apart again.

Chapter Thirty

Abram had not wanted to leave Orris last evening. Though he’d known he’d had to, he had wanted to stay. To take care of her soreness after their romantic evening. He wanted to roll over in the night and feel her weight beside him.

First, though, he needed to handle his brother. He had not been able to sleep once he’d arrived back at the room. Instead, he had read letters from Leandra, the woman who, as Abram had discovered, loved Dahl. She had never put his name in the missives, but there were character traits she’d described at Rowan’s request.

The vague details would not be enough to implicate Dahl. Abram needed proof that would eliminate all doubt. He needed to understand Dahl’s motive unequivocally and, additionally, whether or not he killed Rowan.

Eyes tired, he rubbed his hand over his face and immediately remembered what he had done with Orris the night before.

She was like a nymph, invading his every thought. He found he did not care. Once he was done with Dahl and the mess he had left them in, he would court her properly.

Alas, he did not even know how that would go. He had run out of correspondence and was not one step closer to finding any information to help his cause. Soon, he feared he would have to seek out his brother and pray he confessed to the crime.

He would not delude himself. The likelihood of securing a confession was next to nothing. He pressed his palms against his eyes and blew out a frustrated sigh.

The knock on the door drew his attention. “Yes, who is it?” he called out, not bothering to remove his hands from his forehead.

“This came for you,” Barrett said, pushing the door to the modest room open.

Turning to face him, Abram glanced up at him and attempted a smile in appreciation.