Page 27 of The Autumn Wife (King’s Girls #3)

Ihave nothing to offer you, Theo wanted to say. You deserve better.

His mind screamed those words, yet he had no power to retreat from her touch.

She slipped her fingers along his jaw and then slid them deep into his hair.

Her face, lit golden by the fire, pleaded for loving.

Gilded hair tumbled over one shoulder to pool upon a naked thigh.

Waves of scent came off that waterfall, of kitchen herbs and baby’s milk.

All resistance crumbled into dust.

Her mouth moved sweetly under his. He pressed harder than he should, as he hadn’t dared before.

The sight of her scars was still branded in his mind—proof of the cruelty she’d suffered at another man’s hands.

Yet, as he coaxed her down, flat on the pallet, she didn’t shudder or flinch.

She parted her lips for a deeper kiss, gripped him by the arms, and guided him atop her.

His body surged with a rush of power. How could it be that he’d come to be desired by a woman as passionate and brave as this?

He kissed her forehead, her eyes, her jaw, and her throat, worshipping more than just her lovely flesh.

He honored the loving mother, the hard worker, the brave survivor.

She deserved a prince, not a destitute indentured servant, or a stonemason with a criminal past, or a foolish man who’d been determined to leave her behind.

“Ah, Ceci.” How he loved that little nickname. “You could ask me to slay a dragon, and I’d leave to find a sword.”

A laugh rippled in her throat. “It’s enough that you’re here with me, Theo.”

“Are you sure about this?”

She let one arm fall above her head, giving a lift to one soft, gorgeous breast. “How can you doubt it?”

Her half-lidded look was too hungry to ignore.

He pushed off the pallet to unbutton his breeches, loosen his loincloth, and let the garments fall to the floor.

He couldn’t wait to plunge into her body, but the stronger urge was to claim her— impregnate her.

But—no. He would stop that from happening, at least for now.

In his mind, the whole world was changing.

Before he could contemplate exactly how, Ceci beckoned him down.

He’d think about it later.

He straddled her.

Breathing hard, she ran a hand over his chest and abdomen, as she’d done before.

His muscled body was the result of years of hard labor.

She was rounded in all the right places.

She sank her teeth into her lower lip as she explored even lower.

He squeezed his eyes shut, reining in his pleasure as she gripped him.

In a whisper full of breathy humor, she said, “Am I hurting you?”

“No.” He reached down to remove her fingers. “Explore later. I have a promise to keep.”

He shifted his stance to nudge her thighs apart and settle his hips. She watched his every move with delighted eyes. Kneeing her legs farther apart, he pressed himself against her parting warmth.

I love you, Cecile.

He might have whispered the words aloud—he didn’t know and he didn’t care.

All of his senses focused on the merging of their bodies, first gently, and then, after a breath, moving deeper into her.

He leaned down to kiss her, drawing out those little noises she made as he set a rhythm according to her pleasure.

Taut and ready, he was, but he wouldn’t disappoint her.

He thrust and thrust, her moans rising in pitch.

As she arched her back, he felt the small muscles inside her clench. Triumph rushed through his body. Teetering on the cliff’s edge of his own banked climax, he witnessed her shuddering excitement, the ripples running through her, exciting him as well.

But he held—held—held—until, her pleasure slaked, he heaved himself back to sanity and slid himself out of her.

Release thundered through him, explosive and body-shaking. He threw his head back. Into his ecstasy slid a sliver of regret that he wasn’t her husband, that he wasn’t still inside her now.

Marry her.

The thought shot through him as he tumbled to her side.

She rolled into him, all breathy and warm.

Pulling her closer— marry her—he swept her silky hair across his waist and buried his face against her head.

Running deeper than a vein of quartz in a mountain of granite was this love he had for Ceci.

She whispered, “Can I stay the night?”

He pulled away to glance down at her sleepy face, luminescent in the light of the stove fire. “I won’t let you go.”

“Good.” She snuggled closer. “Dawn is hours and hours away.”

“Dawn doesn’t matter.” He tightened his grip. “I won’t let you go—not ever.”

She ducked her chin. Not believing his words, perhaps. He couldn’t blame her. He’d been convinced that separation was inevitable, and so, he knew, had she. Yet being together was inevitable. He knew this, now, to the very core of his soul.

“Ceci.” He caught her jaw and coaxed it up, so she could see his new conviction—and believe it. “I love you too much to leave you.”