Page 23 of Redemption (Favorite Malady Duet #2)

He chuckles. “We’re standing in a ruin during a downpour. It’s soggy and gloomy. I’d hardly consider that beautiful.”

“You’re just not looking properly,” I tease. “Don’t you see the way the sunlight plays over the hills?”

He steps toward me, and for a moment, I think he’s going to kiss me again. His face is sharp with hunger, and I tip my head back to welcome his claim.

Instead, his big hands bracket my waist, and he spins me so that I’m facing away from him, looking out at the landscape. He pins me to his front with his firm grip on my hips.

His breath warms my rain-chilled neck as he murmurs in my ear, “Tell me more. Describe it to me.”

I’m compelled to respond. Not by his commands, but because I hear the yearning that roughens his voice. He wants to see what I see.

I lean back into his strong body, and just like on our first dates, the world comes into sharper focus. The countryside is naturally verdant, but now the color palette turns almost surreal.

I point down the length of the valley. “The river looks so blue at this distance, like a shiny, navy satin ribbon that some careless goddess has dropped between the hills. And the way the afternoon light hits the lake makes it glitter with gold sparks.” My gesture shifts to the rolling hills.

“It’s gloomy here, but farther away, you can see the shadows of the incoming rainclouds dappling the grass.

How many shades of green do you think I would need to paint to capture it? I’m not sure if I even can.”

“You can,” he says with the weight of an oath. “You are remarkable, Abigail.” He nuzzles my hair and twines my purple curl around one elegant finger. “I’ve never seen the world the way you do. You make it brighter and more beautiful than I ever thought possible.”

“Dane…”

The way he talks about me is overwhelming; like I’m his own personal miracle. He believes in my art. He understands me like no one else.

He applies steady pressure to my curl, tugging gently until I turn my face to his.

He captures my lips again, and I don’t hold anything back.

I pour all of my tumultuous emotions into the kiss: my longing, my pain, my turmoil.

And above all, desire. It’s carnal and desperate, hot enough to sear away reason and self-doubt.

I don’t break the kiss as I turn into him, pressing my chest to his.

My nipples are hard, aching peaks against the inside of my bra, and I wantonly arch into him to seek stimulation.

His hand snakes under my cotton shirt, and he palms my breasts with a squeeze that takes me to the edge of pain.

Molten honey pools low in my belly, and my core pulses for him.

His cock presses into my thigh, hard and insistent.

But he doesn’t try to force himself on me. He doesn’t take anything more than what I’m offering.

He seems to read my moment of worry, because he breaks the kiss to promise, “Tell me to stop, and I’ll stop. No need for a safe word. This isn’t a game. I need your consent. I can’t hurt you again.”

He says it roughly, like the thought alone threatens to break something in him.

The belief that he won’t hurt me settles in my heart and takes root. He truly means it.

And my body is still thrumming for him.

“Yes,” I pant against his lush mouth. “Yes, I want this. I want you, Dane.”

His low groan rumbles into my chest when he captures me in another fierce kiss. My fingers fumble at his belt, and his free hand is shoving at my jeans. He finds my hard clit and rubs in a firm rhythm that I like best. At the same time, he tweaks my nipple in a cruel pinch.

A sizzling line of fire races straight from the abused bud to my stimulated clit, and I hit my peak with shocking speed. The orgasm crashes through me, and I claw at his jeans as my fingers curl with the force of my pleasure.

I start to come down from my quick high, but we’re not nearly finished.

He tears at my clothes, stripping off the sodden garments until I’m naked for him.

My flesh pebbles in the slight chill, but I grab his hand and drag him out from under the sheltered part of the barn.

We’re still in the stone walled enclosure, but the rain falls down on us in fat, heavy drops.

The cool dichotomy with my desire-heated skin makes every inch of my body hypersensitive.

He barks out a delighted laugh and joins me in the deluge, stripping off his shirt and baring his chiseled chest. Rain runs down his rippling muscles in enticing rivulets, and I grab him closer so I can trace one with my tongue.

He bites out a curse, and I smile against his hard chest.

I can make this fierce man come undone. I make can make him laugh. I can make him feel.

I’m giddy with the knowledge, the power I hold over him. He could subdue me in a moment, but he won’t. Not without my consent.

I’m safe here, in this wild, gorgeous landscape with the most beautiful man I’ve ever known.

He frees his cock from his jeans and grabs my waist, yanking me into him. Then he lifts me up, and I wrap my legs around him for support, clinging on tight. My shocked laugh mirrors his, a sound of release and merciful joy after long weeks of pain and anguish.

He backs me up against the aged wall. The stones are slick and rough against my back, but his big hands cushion my ass and shoulders. He won’t let me get so much as a scrape while we’re together.

His cock presses at my entrance. I’m wet and ready for him after the ruthless orgasm he wrung from my body.

He pauses, brow furrowing. “I don’t have a condom.”

“I trust you,” I promise.

That’s a worry for later. Right now, I need him inside me more than I need my next breath.

With my vow of trust, he enters me in one swift thrust. I cry out at the shocking penetration, and he stills, fingers flexing into my skin.

“I’m okay,” I assure him. “It’s good. So good. Don’t stop.”

We’re a perfect fit, his huge cock stretching me just to the edge of pain with his deepest thrusts.

I remember the first time we had sex, when he’d made sure I was relaxed and ready to accommodate him.

He’d been ruthless with my body back then, too, but he’d ensured my pleasure.

So much pleasure that I’d wept for mercy.

I shudder at the bittersweet memories. The man fucking me with such passion now is the same person. The way he’s holding me, sheltering me, is the same. I didn’t fully know Dane back then, but this hasn’t changed.

Our chemistry is as potent as ever.

With each harsh thrust, pleasure builds at my core. My fingernails dig into his shoulders, and he releases a primal snarl. His teeth nip my lower lip in punishment, but I claw him harder.

“Abigail!” I think it’s meant to be a warning, but it comes out as a feral roar.

The sound of Dane coming undone for me pushes me to the peak. Rain splatters my upturned face as I scream out my release. He fucks me harder, his lips pulling back from his teeth like a beast as he resists his own orgasm so that I can reach completion.

When he can’t take it anymore, he pulls out, and hot cum lashes my belly and thighs. The rain immediately begins to sluice it away, erasing his mark. The loss draws a soft cry from my chest.

He cups my cheek and studies my face like I’m his greatest treasure. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” I promise, placing my hand atop his to anchor him to me. “You didn’t hurt me.”

And now, I’m sure that he never will.