Page 108 of The Rancher's Wedding Deception

Could see him sliding in and out of her, slow and deliberate, each thrust making her body rock forward against the counter.

“Paul—” His name came out broken. Desperate. “I can’t—”

“You can.” He withdrew almost completely, and she whimpered at the loss. “You will.”

He slammed back in.

Andie cried out, her head falling forward, but his hand was immediately in her hair, tilting her face back up.

“I said watch.”

How was she supposed to watch when she could barely think?

Twelve hours ago, she’d been...untouched.

Twelve hours ago, she’d thought she understood what desire meant.

She’d been so, so wrong.

The castle bedroom had been first—that devastating encounter where he’d taken her virginity with such aching tenderness that she’d cried. Then he’d carried her to the massive stone shower and taken her again, her back against the cold tile, steam swirling around them as hot water cascaded over their joined bodies.

The car ride to the airport should have been a reprieve.

It wasn’t.

He’d pulled her onto his lap the moment the privacy partition went up, and she’d ridden him while the Colorado mountains blurred past the tinted windows, her hands braced on his shoulders, his fingers digging bruises into her hips.

And now this.

The jet’s bathroom, of all places.

She’d only meant to freshen up. To splash water on her face and try to look like a woman who hadn’t been thoroughly ravished for half a day straight.

But Paul had followed her in.

Locked the door behind him.

And before she could say a word, he’d bent her over the counter and pushed her skirt up around her waist.

“You’re not wearing underwear.” The discovery had made his voice go dark and dangerous.

“You ripped them,” she’d reminded him breathlessly. “In the car.”

“So I did.”

And then he’d thrust inside her, and she’d stopped thinking entirely.

That was—she didn’t know how long ago. Minutes? Hours? Time had lost all meaning, reduced to nothing but sensation and need and the relentless rhythm of his body claiming hers.

“One more.” Paul’s pace was increasing now, his control finally starting to fray. “Give me one more,koukla mou.”

She shook her head. She couldn’t. There was nothing left. She’d shattered so many times that she was nothing but pieces held together by his hands.

“You can.” His fingers found that sensitive bundle of nerves, and her whole body jerked. “One more. For me.”

He circled.

Pressed.