Epilogue #2
Hades. She loved it when he took her like this. However, they’d never coupled in her workshop here before. The illicit nature of it made her breathing grow shallow.
She trembled as he entered her in one slow, powerful stroke.
Biting down on her lip, she arched back against him, bringing him in as deep as she could.
And then he was flush against her. She felt the strength of his body and the heat of his skin against her naked back and arse.
“Are ye learning, wife?” he breathed in her ear.
“Not yet,” she whispered back, her breath hitching as he rolled his hips against her. “Teach me some more.”
His hand slid over her hip, and then between her legs, his fingers opening her to him.
And then he was stroking her, baring her, as he began to move in long, deep thrusts.
Brìghde shuddered, heat coiling in the cradle of her hips with every languorous slide.
“Greig,” she whimpered, forgetting the game they were playing.
He breathed an oath, moving faster now, pushing deeper with each stroke.
And all the while, tension coiled in her womb, as if she were a rope being wrapped around a pole, tighter and tighter. This position was delicious. He touched her in places that made her writhe against him, made her melt and tremble. Wildness stirred then.
“Greig!” Her voice was choked now. She didn’t want to cry out. The walls of her workshop were thinner than those inside the tower house. Yet it was hard not to, not when this felt so good.
“Brìghde.” Her name on his lips made her chest constrict, even as her core started to clutch around his hard length. He too had forgotten their game. The emotion of this joining had shifted things. “Bonnie, clever, sensual Brìghde … ye are everything to me.”
Her breathing caught. Greig had told her he loved her many times over the past year—and she too had held nothing back—but there was a rawness to this admission that was new.
A vulnerability that made tenderness clutch at her chest.
He still stroked her with one hand, yet the other splayed on the bench next to her, bracing him as he continued to thrust into her.
Placing her own hand over his, she laced her fingers through his. They formed a pattern, a stitch. Just like the love knot on the bracelet he’d given her, a design she often wove into her jewelry. Endless. Eternal.
She had once doubted his feelings, had doubted herself too.
But those days were long behind them.
He was hers.
She was his.
And there was nothing in this world that would ever change that.