Page 167 of Stolen By The Wrong Duke

“You are so beautiful.”

And Rowan drove into her.

A long, trembling moan escaped her lips, caught instantly by his mouth as he kissed her through the sensation. He began to move, his strokes long and heavy, driving into her with a rhythmic force that made the heavy bedstead groan against the wall.

The slick friction of their skin, the heat of his chest rubbing against her sensitive nipples, the relentless, deep thud of his hips against hers drove every lingering shadow from her mind.

She was entirely consumed by him. She arched her back, meeting every thrust, her inner muscles clenching tightly around him, pulling him deeper.

Rowan’s control was entirely gone now. His jaw was locked, the muscles in his neck strained, his breath coming in harsh, raggedgasps near her ear as he drove faster, harder, burying himself to the root with every strike.

“Emmeline,” he choked out, his movements becoming frantic as the tension between them wound tighter, spiraling toward the precipice.

The internal tightening caught her first—a sudden, electric spasm that rippled through her lower belly. Pleasure broke through her in a wave so bright and consuming that she clung to him helplessly, saying his name against his mouth.

The sight of her shattering broke him completely. Rowan let out a harsh, guttural cry, his body shuddering violently as he delivered one final, deep thrust and gave himself to her, his head burying into the crook of her neck as his pulse hammered against her skin.

They stayed joined for a long time, the heavy, rhythmic thudding of his heart slowing against her breast as the summer night breeze cooled their sweat-slicked bodies.

Eventually, he shifted, rolling to his side but refusing to let her go, pulling her against his flank so her cheek rested over his heart. His fingers moved through her damp hair in slow, absent strokes.

“Are you asleep?” he asked, his voice thick with exhaustion and peace.

“No.”

“Good.”

She smiled in the dark, her hand resting on his bare stomach. “Why?”

His arm tightened around her, pulling her so close there was no space left between them. “Because I wanted to tell you something.”

“What?”

He tipped her chin up, his gray eyes soft, unguarded, and deeply bright in the moonlight. “You have brought me home.”

Tears filled her eyes before she could stop them, hot and sweet.

He kissed them away one by one, his lips lingering on her eyelids, her nose, and finally, softly, against her mouth.

And beneath the open window, with the summer night breathing around them and their family sleeping safely under the same roof, Emmeline understood that happiness was not the dream she had once mourned.

It was here. In the wild, beautiful wreckage of their love.

The End?