“Niall,” she whispered, her heart so full of joy that she wanted to share it with him. “Make me yours, my darling.”
“You’ve always been mine, whether you knew it or not.”
And then he was driving her forward to that lovely place of bliss, and she was clutching him to her and straining upward until he gave a few quick thrusts that sent her leaping toward the stars.
He must have followed her there, for he groaned so feelingly that it tipped her over into heaven.
“My dearest rogue,” she cried. “My darling Niall.”
“Yes, sweeting.” He thrust hard, then spilled his seed inside her with a long, aching moan. “Mine,” he murmured against her lips. “All mine.”
And in truth, she wanted nothing more than to be his. For the rest of her life and beyond.
Lord help her.
Niall lay on his side next to Bree, his head propped up on one hand as he stared down at her nude form. He couldn’t stop looking at her. Like some elusive goddess in a painting, she lay drowsing, with her hair spilling out over the pillow, rumpled velvet lit by candlelight.
Her plump breasts were topped with cheeky pink nipples he wanted to ravage all over again. Entranced by her beauty, he skimmed a hand down the soft contours of her body. Satiny skin, hips lush enough to tempt a man, and between them . . .
God, he had to stop thinking of it, or he’d take her again, and they still had things to discuss. He couldn’t believe that she’d seducedhim. It was so unlike her.
Or perhaps not. Shewashis Lady Rebel, after all.
He brushed a kiss to her rosy cheek, wishing he could stay here until morning, wishing he never had to leave her bed. But since they weren’t married, that wasn’t a choice.
She nuzzled his chin. “You need to shave.”
“That’s all you have to say to me?” he teased.
“What did you want to hear?”
“That I made you swoon. That I’m an excellent lover. That you can’t believe my astounding capability to—”
“Enough,” she said, a soft laugh escaping her. “You know perfectly well that you made me swoon and shiver and shake. As always.”
“That’s more like it.” He cocked his head to listen, but heard nothing in the house. “All seems quiet. We might have gotten away with this.”
She shot him a bemused look. “Since when do you care?”
“Since I first laid eyes on you.”
“What fustian!” She smoothed her hand over his chest. “You’ve always been a rogue and will always be one, no doubt.”
The words cut him deeper than she could know. “Don’t say that.”
She blinked. “Why not? I don’t mind it, honestly. It’s what makes you . . . interesting.”
He sighed. “It’s what makes you think I betrayed you years ago.”
Her gaze grew shuttered. “It doesn’t matter. We’re different people now, and I use ‘rogue’ only in the best sense. It’s what makes you so very good atthis.”
“Ah. So you’ve decided to overlook my past because I give you pleasure.”
“That’s not what I—”
“Bree, I didn’t betray you back then,” he said earnestly.
He had to tell her the rest. Clearly she wanted to forgive him without knowing the truth, but the festering sore of her misconception would poison their future, whether she realized that or not.