Epilogue #3
With her spread out across the bed like some kind of offering to an ancient god, there was only so much she could do to help. But still, her back arched, thrusting her hips toward him…and he took the hint.
Without pausing his strokes, he stepped up between her legs, slid his fingers from her core, and pushed into her.
They both sighed.
Then his hands fell to her hips, and he was thrusting, each movement causing her to spiral higher and higher, closer to that familiar pleasure. It was as if her recent orgasm hadn’t faded a bit, had just been delayed.
His eyes were closed, his head tipped back, and she didn’t think she’d ever seen anything as magnificent, as beautiful, as her beast.
With a roar, he lifted her rear end from the bed, each plunge stronger and more wonderful than the one before. Bonnie’s fingers crept between them, under where his kilt spread across her navel, until she touched her hidden pearl.
With a gasp, she felt herself constricting around him, and rubbed herself. He glanced down, growled her name, and slammed home once more.
Her pleasure burst over her again, white-hot behind her eyelids, as he spilled deep inside her. Each spasm of her core seemed to milk further warmth from him, until he collapsed atop her, panting, supporting himself with his palms against the mattress on either side of her face.
Her fingers were curled around the material of his waistcoat, and she couldn’t seem to get her breathing under control.
“Holy…fooking shite,” he groaned.
And she began to laugh helplessly.
To her unending joy, his lips curled upward, and chuckles wracked his chest as he slid from her and flopped onto the bed beside her.
Still fully dressed.
Giggling, she rolled to her side, resting her chin on her arms atop his chest, beneath which his heartbeat was slowing. “Well, I hardly think that was fair, husband.”
“Fair?” he growled, lifting his golden head from the mattress to glare at her. “Ye came twice.”
“Yes, but I did not get to admire your body. Next time, we are both going to be naked.”
With another theatrical groan, he threw one forearm across his eyes. “Mercy, lass, mercy. I need… Recover… Och, Bonnie, ye’ll be the death of me.”
“Yes,” she drawled as she crawled up his body to hover over him. “But you will die happy.”
His lips curled under his arm. “That I will.”
Her naked hip was against his jacket—Seriously, how is this fair?—when she leaned over him to take his face in her palms. The scars of his ruined cheek tickled her palm, but she loved that part of him as much as the rest.
“Lyon. I never told you of your wedding gift.”
He moved his arm until he was blinking up at her, and his hands closed around hers. “Ye’ve given me more than I could ever dream, wife,” he said seriously. “I didnae need anything more.”
“Well, you are getting more.”
Shrugging, he pretended nonchalance. “Och, perhaps a bairn or three.”
Since they’d spoken many times over the last months of the possibility of future children, this shouldn’t have caused her insides to go all quivery the way they did. However, the thought that she could now be carrying his bairn…
He tugged her down for a kiss. “I love ye, Bonnie.”
It was amazing how quickly he could turn her thoughts, just with some practiced swipes of that tongue.
“Your gift!” she gasped, pushing herself upright, forcing herself to remember what she’d wanted to say, over the desire clouding her brain. “It will be delivered this week. The new sign for our business.”
He pushed himself up on his elbows, surprise in his eyes. “Ye’ve finally decided on a name for the publishing house? What is it?”
Smiling, she returned her hands to his cheeks. “Highland Rose Press.”
His hazel eyes widened as his lips formed the shape of the words. Then he cleared his throat. “Rose?”
“Yes, my love. Now that you have modified the presses, we can publish reproductions of color paintings. After we complete the print run on my book, I want to publish a book of Rose’s paintings, so that everyone in the Highlands and beyond can appreciate her genius.
Assuming you are comfortable with it, that is. ”
Unless she was mistaken, his eyes were a little watery when he cleared his throat and nodded firmly.
“I think…that would be wonderful. She deserves that.” His smile was slow, but when it was full, even his scarred cheek didn’t diminish it.
“Highland Rose Press. I think that’s a magnificent idea. Thank ye for thinking of it.”
Since she was still holding his cheeks, she tugged him up to her. “I love you, Lyon.”
His arms wrapped around her middle, pulling her against his chest. His kiss told her everything she needed to know. In a moment, her gift, the press, and their future endeavors had been forgotten, because she could feel him hardening beneath his kilt.
With supreme effort, she wrenched herself away and glared sternly down at him. “You know what I want right now, husband?” When he raised a brow in question, she poked him in the chest. “You to finally take off all your clothes!”
His lips curled as he sat upright. “Yer wish is my command, love.”
And laughing, she helped.