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He knew by the way Lydia looked at him that she could hear the wariness and guilt in his voice. She slid further up, wrapping her arms around his neck. Even now, months after the marks had faded, she still reverently touched his throat where the rope hadnearly taken his life; as if to make sure it had not somehow found its way around his neck again.

Ezra felt a heavy emotion as she did this and lowered his eyes further. Lydia would not stand for it, and she tugged a fistful of his damp, black hair, forcing his gaze up. He smirked as she did so and kissed her lips.

“I am nothing but thankful,” Lydia swore, looking into his blue eyes. “Our story may be different from theirs, but that does not make it any less beautiful and real.”

Ezra’s brows tensed slightly as his throat grew tight; the closest he would ever come to shedding an emotional tear, and his arms pinned her against him as he buried his face in her neck.

“We need a honeymoon,” he murmured as he nuzzled.

Lydia smiled, looking relieved that they were finally moving away from the terrifying thoughts of what had almost befallen them.

“Is that not what our three days of punishment were?” she teased.

Ezra pulled back with an offended look, and she giggled.

“I am still not sure I have punished you enough for running off like that,” he snickered.

Arousal simmered through Ezra’s veins as he thought of all the devilishly delectable things he had done to take away her ability to walk, write, and even speak for several days. To her credit though, she had rendered him quite useless in return. His little minx of a wife did not back down from his challenges, no matter how intimidating he made them.

“I think you are right,” she agreed, slowly beginning to gyrate her hips atop him, making him hiss in a breath.

“Obviously,” Ezra murmured sarcastically, bucking his hips back into hers.

“Maybe a honeymoon is in order,” she continued, as he lifted her out of the tub. “You could punish me nonstop for weeks then.”

“Punishment? Oh, no, little dove, you certainly deserve areward,” Ezra replied, his wicked smile growing as he carried her, still dripping wet, to the fur rug sprawled before the roaring fire in the hearth.

“I could take you to Spain,” he went on, spreading her arms above her head, “And Greece, and France.”

His hands trailed down her arms and over her breasts, making her whimper as he softly pinched her nipples before moving down to her waist.

“And what would my reward be?” Lydia breathed as his hands parted her thighs.

“Mmmm…” Ezra murmured, taking soft licks at her center, “I think I will create our real wedding night everywhere we go.”

Ezra felt Lydia shift uncomfortably, as if confused, but when she looked into his eyes, she quickly understood what he was actually referring to and blushed deeply. He was talking about the night they had consummated, not the actual wedding night. The night they had finally stopped taunting one another and bared their true desires for each other in the public park in Mayfair for anyone to hear and see.

It was not the only time that they had made love outside, either. The weather had begun to change, the summer slipping into a cool fall shortly after George had been arrested, but the coolness of the air had not stopped them from frolicking naked among the falling leaves of his country estate two or three dozen times since.

“You wouldn’t,” she whispered, though she was smiling as Ezra rose back up and settled his rigid manhood at the entrance of her dewy, parted lips.

Her body ached for him to simply thrust it in; to twitch his hips just enough so that she could feel him.

“Oh, but I would,” Ezra said smoothly, continuing his teasing with his hips as he watched her come undone.

His desire only heightened as he watched the challenge in Lydia’s eyes slowly transform into willing obedience the more heteased her.Bringing his hands up, Ezra laced his fingers through hers, and eased his hips forward, sinking ever so slowly into her.

“Don’t you just love it when we do this outside?” Ezra asked.

Lydia let out a deep moan as she arched into him, the word “yes” barely audible at the end of it.

He hypnotically moved his hips, carrying each thrust fluidly up to his base, then drawing out to the edge of his tip at a steady, unrushed pace.

“And you love it when you feel me take your control; when you’re left unable to think of nothing but how good I make you feel.”

“God, yes,” Lydia moaned, fully at his mercy.

“And you know that you are perfectly safe,” Ezra rasped, lapping his tongue over her breast, “Because I will always protect you.”

Lydia let out a strangled cry as she thrust her hips needily against his, but he let loose one of her hands to stop her.

“Because you aremine.” He growled, feeling that possessive nature slide over him again.

“Yours,” Lydia whispered, and then the two of them were lost.

The End?