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Diana blinked and breathed heavily as if she didn’t believe what she was hearing.

“So, I am asking—No, I ambeggingyou. Will you have me? Because I cannot, will not, live in a world without you.”

She searched his eyes for an inkling of doubt. He withstood her inspection, firm and open, inviting her to see the truth of his words. Time ticked, eons rolled as Diana passed judgment on him. Then, her eyes gleamed, and she lifted her chin.

“It seems that you excel at begging, after all, My Lord.”

James blinked.She…

His chuckle was low, dark, wicked. He took a step closer and pinned her against the shelves, his arms caging her in.

“Oh, I can beg in so many ways.”

His voice was low, a velvet promise. And James always made good on his promises.

Diana swallowed hard, her pulse a frantic thing in her throat. He tilted his head, his lips barely grazing the spot behind her ear. Just enough to make her shiver.

“Tell me, my wallflower.” Another brush of his lips, softer now, like he was drinking in the taste of her hesitation. “Are you mine?”

She looked deeply into his eyes. Then, the precious book slipped from her fingers and fell to the floor with athud. She grabbed the front of his coat and pulled him down to her.

Their lips collided, and James couldn’t hold in a deep groan, the air knocked out of his lungs. His hands moved to feel her, all of her. He missed her so much. He had thought he had lost her for good. And now she was his. His to savor and cherish and annoy and make happy.

One hand slid into her hair, untangling her dark curls, feeling the strands spill through his fingers. She shuddered as he fisted her hair softly to angle her head just right, just the way he needed to devour her properly.

His other hand moved to her waist, pulling her so close yet not enough. Heat slammed into him like cannon fire the moment she rocked against him, the unmistakable friction sending a sharp, desperate thrill straight to his spine.

James growled—a deep, primal sound he himself didn’t recognize. “Diana.”

Her body was moving against his, her tongue caressing his, her fingers in his hair. Then, she moaned. One needy, breathy sigh. And he snapped.

His hands found her thighs, lifted her, and pinned her harder against the shelves, his hips trapped between her legs, tangled in her skirts.

Then,God,he moved slowly, gently, his thigh creating delicious, unbearable pressure. Her head lolled back against the shelves as she gasped at the friction, and James kissed her neck, licking her skin. He rocked against her with slow, measured thrusts. He could feel his length straining against his breeches, aching to feel more of her.

“Christ!” he groaned.

His hands cupped her breasts, and he couldn’t stop. Not now, not ever. He tugged her dress down impatiently, and her milky breasts spilled out. He latched on an erect nipple, and Diana whimpered.

“I missed you, my precious wallflower,” he murmured against her skin.

He grazed her nipple with his teeth, and she shuddered, cradling his head closer.

“Let me hear it, Diana.” He looked up into her glazed eyes. “You are mine.”

Her chest rose and fell fast, her pupils blown, her lips rosy and swollen, ruined by his kisses, parted on a breath that nearly undid him. Then, he heard her voice—soft, raspy, breathy.

“Yours.”

“Yes,” he grunted in satisfaction. “Mine.”

There was no stopping him now.

CHAPTER 24

Crackling Fire

Diana could not have thought of a better place in the world. This, this cozy room right here, filled with books, warmed by the hearth, lit by candles, the moonlight pouring in through the big glass windows… She knew that this room would forever hold a special place in her heart.