Page 44 of How the Belle Stole Christmas

Might as well tell him everything now. We'll probably both be dead by morning anyway.

"I didn't want to leave ye, Edward." Her voice broke on his name. "All I wanted was ye. But ye hadn't touched me in years, and ye barely spoke to me except about household matters. I thought... I thought ye'd grown tired of me, that ye wanted yer freedom back."

"You thought—" He stared at her as if seeing her for the first time. "Fiona, I hadn't touched you because I didn't think you wanted me to. You seemed so distant, so formal whenever I was home. I thought you were relieved to have me gone."

She shook her head in disbelief. “I thought ye'd found someone else. Someone more exciting, more sophisticated—someone who could give ye the passion I obviously couldn't.”

His eyes widened. “Never,” he said emphatically. “There was never anyone for me but you.”

Before she could respond, he silenced her with a kiss.

It was raw and desperate, as if he were trying to pour months of separation and longing into this single moment of connection.

She clung to him in return, molding her body to his, marveling at the familiar planes and angles she'd memorized so long ago.

His scent surrounded her—sandalwood and something uniquely him that made her feel safe. Home.

He felt like home.

No. He was her home.

She breathed deeply as she kissed him back with equal desperation, her hands fisting in his shirt as if she could somehow pull him inside her very soul.

I love you, she thought fiercely. I love you, I love you, I love you.

Edward crushed her against the stone wall, his hands trembling as he cupped her face, as though he were afraid she might vanish if he let go.

His mouth moved over hers with an urgency and desperation she’d never felt before.

They kissed as though drowning, two desperate creatures gulping not for air but for each other.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding on as her fingers tangled in the damp curls at his nape. The taste of him was familiar and sweet, driving her wild.

When his hands slid from her face to her waist, she gasped into his mouth, and he swallowed the sound greedily.

He gripped her hips with both hands and lifted her off her feet, pinning her between his body and the rough stone. She let out a startled laugh, half incredulous and half delighted, and her legs instinctively locked around his thighs, her silk skirts bunching up around his hands.

He grinned against her mouth. "God, I missed you," he whispered, kissing her jaw, her cheek, and the delicate spot beneath her ear that always made her shiver.

She arched her neck, offering him more, and he took it, nipping gently at her pulse before returning to her lips.

His hands slid higher, finding the laces at her bodice and working them loose.

The loosened stays allowed her chest to expand so she could breathe fully again—not that she could catch her breath, not with the way he was kissing her.

She fumbled at his shirtfront, her fingers clumsy with desire. The buttons resisted, but eventually, she worked them free, sliding her hands beneath the linen to touch his bare skin.

He felt feverish to her touch, as if burning from the inside, and she responded with an answering heat.

His hands slipped lower again, finding the hem of her skirt and pushing it upward.

She flushed, realizing she had never been undressed this way before, with so much impatience and so little regard for propriety.

He gathered the fabric over her hips, fingers splayed across her thigh, and then… he touched her.

There.

At first, just the pads of his fingers, feather-light, then stroking with increasing certainty, as if rediscovering the map of her body from memory and delighting in every forgotten landmark.

She was already wet—embarrassingly so—and he groaned low in his chest when he found her that way.

His thumb circled her, teasing, and she bit his shoulder to stifle a cry, fearing the sound might carry through the stone passage and betray them both.

But he was not content with just this; he slipped one finger inside her, then a second, and she clamped down around him, the sensation burning through her like lightning.

"Ed—Edward," she gasped, tensing as he worked his fingers in and out, slow at first, then with a rhythm that matched her ragged breathing.

"Still so tight for me," he muttered, a mix of awe and pride in his voice, and the words made her blush fiercely even as she rocked against his hand.

Desperate for more, she dug her nails into his back, and he obliged her by pressing the heel of his palm against her at just the right angle.

She was perilously close already, her entire body straining toward the heat of him, but she wanted more—wanted all of him, as much as she could take, as much as he could give.

She fumbled with his breeches, finding the falls and wrenching them open with trembling hands. His cock sprang free, thick and already hard, and the feel of it against her palm sent a fresh wave of arousal through her. She stroked him once, twice, and he shuddered, his entire body going rigid.

"You're going to be the death of me," he growled, his voice low and guttural.

"On the contrary," she whispered, “Ye just brought me back to life.”

He paused, meeting her gaze for a long moment, his eyes burning. Breathless, Fiona guided him to her entrance.

The tip of him pressed against her, and she braced herself, hungry to feel all of him. To be filled by him.

He hesitated for a single, agonizing heartbeat before thrusting into her in one smooth, punishing motion.

She almost sobbed with relief at the fullness, the rightness of it—the way he filled her, stretched her, and made her whole again. Her heels dug into the back of his thighs, urging him deeper, and he complied, driving into her over and over in an unrelenting rhythm.

She tried to be quiet, she really did, but the sound of flesh meeting flesh, the wet slap of skin, and the gasps were impossible to muffle.

He buried his face in her neck, moaning her name against her skin as he pounded into her, each thrust harder than the last. She clung to him, helplessly riding the wave of sensation, whimpering and moaning with every contact of skin on skin.

He felt so good, so hot, so thick inside her.

She had forgotten how good it felt, how right it felt.

Then he touched his thumb to her clit, and she cried out. No, she could not be silent anymore. He covered her mouth with his, sucking on her tongue, swallowing every sound she made.

Her nails dug deeper into his shoulders as he continued the onslaught of sensations against her—his cock sliding in and out of her, his thumb rubbing circles over her most sensitive spot, his tongue gliding against hers…

She closed her eyes, a primal cry tearing from her throat as she came.

He swallowed her cries, as he continued kissing her, thrusting into her, playing with her swollen nub, knowing she wasn’t done.

He knew her so well.

After a few more moments of increasing rhythm, she came again, sobbing into his mouth.

He followed her over the edge a moment later, heat spilling into her as he jerked against her.

For a long time, they just stayed there, breathing hard, his weight pinning her to the wall, her arms wound tightly around his shoulders. She could feel the aftershocks rippling through both of them, so intense that for several seconds, she couldn't even speak.

Eventually, Edward managed to draw back, though he didn't go far. He braced himself against the wall with one arm, cradling her cheek with the other while his thumb stroked absent circles along her jawline. Their bodies remained joined, and he made no move to separate them.

"I didn’t realize," she said, her voice shaky but light, "that ye can still lift me."

His lips quirked up into a familiar crooked smile. "Of course I can."

She licked her lips. "Do ye remember? Ye'd hoist me onto yer back, and I’d ride ye through the house?"

He let out a laugh. "I always enjoyed having you ride me… Though I always hoped you’d grow into riding me from the front… while naked."

She laughed and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I’ll mount ye from the front. Ye can mount me from the back."

He barked out a laugh. "I’ll take you any way I can, my duchess."