Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
T hey barely made it through the front door. Victory pulsed through Rowan’s chest, the rush of the trust meeting crackling in the air like static.
Max shrugged off his jacket and tossed it onto the nearest chair. Then came his tie, sliding free with a smug hiss that was louder than the breath Rowan sucked in through her teeth.
His stare burned into her, sharp as a blade and hot as embers. ‘Come here, Mrs Drummond.’
Heat licked its way south like it had an appointment to keep. She stepped forward, her body answering him before her brain had a say. Until she stood toe-to-toe with him.
‘You were magnificent today.’ He traced his thumb along the bow of her upper lip.
Her tongue darted out, tasting him.
A muscle near his temple jumped. ‘If you don’t stop teasing me like that, I swear to God, I’ll take you right here.’
‘Then I’m definitely not stopping.’
Max dug his fingers into her waist, pulling her in, dragging her under. His mouth seized hers. Hot and consuming and restless. His kiss didn’t ask. It took.
He tasted of triumph. Of admiration. Of love.
Rowan clutched the front of his shirt. She pushed him back against the stone wall of the foyer, beneath two medieval battle axes, and kissed him with the fury of a thousand hard-fought victories. Like a conqueror claiming her prize.
Which she kind of was.
His mouth met hers with equal fervour. His lips bruising, his smile breaking through the hunger, a taste of triumph sweetening every stroke of his tongue. She would never, ever get enough of this.
Of him.
Of them.
Max cradled her face with both hands. ‘Every fight, every win… It’s nothing without you, Rowan. You have no idea how much I need this. How much I need you.’
‘I’d say it’s obvious.’ She pushed against him. ‘It’s, erm, a bit difficult to hide.’
He laughed and pulled her closer, hands sliding down to grip her ass, grinding her into the hard evidence of just how far gone he was. ‘Ready to fulfil your marital duties?’
‘If you’re ready to fulfil yours.’ Her voice straddled the line between tease and plea. ‘I’ve been on active duty non-stop for weeks. I don’t know how you do it. Not that I’m complaining.’
Max’s response was a low, deliberate hum. Like he was considering something. ‘Pull up that dress. Bend over.’
Rowan reached for the hem, lifting the soft fabric over her hips as she turned around. She couldn’t see it, but she heard the whisper of leather sliding free. The pull of his zipper.
A slick stroke.
Is he…?
The glide of his fist working his cock came in a steady rhythm.
Rowan drew in a shuddering breath and braced her hands against the wall. She arched her back and tipped her hips, giving him a better view.
The rugged groan he let loose nearly sent her to her knees.
‘Don’t you dare turn around.’ His voice was dark with lust like he was one breath away from losing it.
She loved this. The knowledge that Max was behind her, fisting himself at the sight of her, fuelled a surge of power through her entire system.
A sharp inhale. ‘I can see the stain growing on the satin. You’re getting ready for me.’
‘Yes.’ She was burning to feel him, and he hadn’t even touched her yet.
He groaned. ‘I can see how turned on you are.’
Her entire body fought to stay upright, to withstand the force of her need for him ripping through her.
He wrenched the thin fabric of her thong aside. Cool air licked at her sensitive flesh. The faint rustle of fabric, the clink of his belt on the tiled floor. And then—
His thick head, nudging at her entrance.
‘Look at you, Rowan. You don’t even need foreplay.’
‘Watching you…kick Blackwood’s ass…was all the foreplay I needed.’
A sharp exhale pushed through his teeth. ‘Jesus. You’re making me lose my mind.’
And then he drove into her.
Hard. Deep. Unrelenting.
Her body seized up, fought against the impossible stretch. She let out a broken cry.
‘Max, I—’ Whatever she’d meant to say splintered into raw, choked sounds, her body shaking, trying to catch up.
‘You can take it.’ His grip on her waist turned punishing. ‘You were made for me.’
Her fingers clutched at the stones in the wall, knuckles white, body jolting as he fucked her, each stroke carving him deeper, branding him into her.
‘Y-yes…I am…’ The words were breathless. ‘Don’t…hold back. I need you rough.’
He made a sound somewhere between a growl and a groan like she’d just handed him his last shred of sanity and told him to set it on fire.
His rhythm turned ravenous.
Her body rippled with every powerful thrust, her moans escalating to panting cries. ‘Yes! Yes! Oh…OH!’
And then Max—
Fucking stilled .
Buried deep, pulsing, holding back.
‘I need you on top. I want to watch you.’
For once, she had no retort. No quip, no tease. Just a pulse between her thighs so pounding it blurred the edges of reality.
‘I want to watch you fall apart for me,’ he said and closed his fingers around her neck. ‘And I want you to watch me fall apart for you. Admit it. You love being the woman who undoes me.’
Before she could reply, Max pulled out, leaving her aching and empty. He took her wrist, hauled her toward the broad stone staircase, and sat down on the step.
She sucked in a breath.
His cock was hard, glistening, waiting. A king demanding tribute. But it was the way he looked at her – as if she were the only thing that could save him from himself – that snatched the air from her like a rough hand at her neck.
‘Come here.’ The hunger in his voice could have levelled a person.
Rowan didn’t hesitate. She climbed over him, knees hitting the cold stone as she straddled his thighs. Her hands clung to his shoulders, and she hovered for a second, her body screaming for him.
‘Now, Rowan.’
He closed one hand around his shaft, clamping the other onto her hip as he pulled her down onto him – right where she belonged. She cried out as he seated himself deep, so deep inside her, and her head lolled forward against his.
‘Jesus, fuck —’
The angle was so perfect, it wrung a long moan from her.
He lifted her chin. ‘Look at me.’
She did.
‘Ride me. Make your husband proud.’
The stone bit into her knees as she rolled her hips, but the only thing she felt was him.
‘Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?’ His teeth scraped her lip. ‘You’re… God, you’re wrecking me, and I’m letting you.’
‘That’s…good.’ Because she couldn’t go down without taking him with her. They were one.
He groaned against her mouth. ‘You’re so beautiful. I want this etched into my memory. You. Like this.’
‘I’m…doing…my best.’
‘You love knowing I would burn the whole world just to feel you like this, don’t you?’
She laughed on a moan. ‘I’d burn down right alongside you.’
‘Jesus Christ, Rowan. Goddammit.’
His hands branded her, sliding over her back, down to her ass – gripping, using his hold to slam her onto him.
‘Oooh God. Max. OH!’
‘I want you to remember this. Every second. Every touch.’ His voice was gravelly. ‘Do you know how much I love you?’
She did. God, she did.
‘Yes, yes! I love you. I love you!’
With a shuddering breath, she pushed up from her knees and rolled onto her heels. She needed him deeper. Harder.
And fuck, she got it.
Max planted his strong hands on the underside of her thighs. Supporting her, holding her. Every nerve ending fizzed with pleasure, and tension coiled low in her belly.
‘Max…’ Her voice broke. ‘Make me come. God, make me come. Please. Please .’
‘You coming on me? My favourite thing.’
His grip tightened on her inner thighs, keeping their rhythm. She couldn’t stop moving even if she tried – her own weight driving her down, thighs burning as she met every thrust.
‘Max… Oh! Oh my God—’ Her thighs trembled, body seizing under the sharp, perfect agony of it.
‘Yes, that’s it. That’s my good wife. Give it to me. Let me feel it.’
‘AH! Max!’ Her voice shattered into a scream as the world fractured around her. Her vision flared white-hot, every nerve pulled to a breaking point, every muscle locking down in surrender. Sensation tore through her. No control, no escape –just the devastating force of him, wringing her out, dragging her over the edge so far it felt like she was dissolving.
She should’ve collapsed. Should’ve sunk into him, gone soft and pliant in his arms.
But she couldn’t.
She needed him to come undone.
‘I-I can…take more. Don’t stop me, Max. Don’t stop.’
His growl scraped her skin. ‘Rowan. Fuck.’
‘That’s right.’ She held his face in her hands. ‘Now come for me. Show me. Show me…how much…you love…your wife.’
And then he lost it.
One, two, three, four devastating, body-splitting thrusts.
‘I love you. I love you. Jesus Christ. Rowan. Oh FUCK!’
Heat flooded deep inside her, each pulse wringing another wrecked sound from his throat.
She melted into him, chest to chest, her fingers tangled in his hair, her world narrowing to this moment, to this man, to them.
He buried his face in her neck, arms wrapping tight, holding her like he never wanted to let go.
‘You’re my queen.’ A kiss, soft and lingering, at her temple. ‘My queen.’
‘Damn right, I am. And don’t you ever forget it.’
She was his. But not his possession. She was his wife, his partner, his equal.
‘As if you’d let me. Believe me, I could never be happy with any other woman.’
‘I bloody hope so.’ She lowered her head, capturing his lips in an unhurried kiss. ‘I really do love you, Mr Drummond.’
‘I really do love you, too, Mrs Drummond. I love you so much it hurts. Where have you been all my life?’
‘It’s all just as it’s supposed to be.’ She sagged against him, a lazy smile on her lips. His heart thundered beneath her ear. Their bodies still one. The stones of Dunmarach held centuries, but this moment felt brand new.
He tightened his strong arms around her, his fingers tracing gentle, grounding patterns over her lower back. Her skin was flushed with satisfaction. A laugh bubbled up, loose and giddy.
‘What’s so funny?’ Max nudged a kiss against her chin.
‘I was thinking about Blackwood’s face when you eviscerated him.’ She twined her arms around his neck and threaded her fingers through his damp hair. ‘So this was our victory lap, right?’
‘Only the first round.’ He kissed the tip of her nose, then each eyelid. This tender gesture from a man who seemed made of steel and stone sent a sharp pull through her chest.
God, how she loved him.
‘Speaking of victories…’ Her voice wavered. ‘I’ve been thinking.’
‘A dangerous pastime, especially for you.’ He nuzzled the nape of her neck.
‘Prick. I’m trying to be serious here.’
‘Go on then.’
‘There’s this wee parish church near my gran’s care home in Glasgow. Nothing fancy, stone walls and stained glass. But it’s where my grandparents got married, and my gran could be there, and…’ She took a wavering breath. ‘What I’m trying to say is… Maybe we could get married there. Properly this time, with friends and family.’
Max went still. ‘Are you proposing to me, Rowan Drummond?’
‘Well, technically you’re already my husband, so it’s more like…proposing we make it real?’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘Though if you’re going to be pedantic about it…’
His mouth caught hers in a kiss that tasted of wonder and hope and forever. When he pulled back, his smile lit up his entire face. ‘Yes. Name the date.’
‘Yes?’
‘Yes to marrying you properly. To you. To us. To everything.’
His rare, beaming smile was worth every moment of uncertainty, every fear she’d conquered to get here. Every hard decision she had to make, every heartache and loss and piece of hell either of them had to endure.
Maybe, Rowan thought, the best stories weren’t the ones you came looking for. Maybe the best stories were the ones that found you when you least expected them.