I lifted her onto the workbench with one arm, settling between her thighs in a position that was becoming my favorite. The height put us closer to eye level.
"I love you in my workshop," I growled, running my hands up her bare legs beneath the flannel shirt—my shirt, marking her with my scent. "Surrounded by things I've built with my own hands, wearing my clothes, letting me touch you wherever I want."
"Touch me everywhere," she demanded, her voice already breathless with need. "I love your hands on me. I love how big they are, how strong. How gentle you are even though you could overpower me without trying."
Fuck. This woman would be the death of me.
I worked the buttons of the flannel slowly, revealing inch by inch the body that was already becoming my obsession. When the shirt fell open, exposing her completely to my hungry gaze, I had to grip the edge of the workbench to maintain control.
Her breasts fit my palms. Her soft curves begged for my hands. And between her thighs—fuck, she was already wet for me, ready for me, needing me as desperately as I needed her.
"So beautiful," I murmured, cupping her gently, watching her arch into my touch. "So perfectly mine. Do you know what it does to me, knowing I'm the only man who's ever seen you like this? Ever touched you?"
"Tell me." She gasped as I thumbed over her nipple.
"It makes me want to howl like a fucking animal. It makes me want to carry you off to our bed and keep you there until you're pregnant with my baby. Until everyone who looks at you knows you belong to me."
"Yes," she moaned, spreading her legs wider in invitation. "I want that. I want everyone to know I'm yours."
"They will," I promised, dropping to my knees between her thighs. "After I'm done with you today, you'll walk differently, smell like me, carry my mark on your skin. Everyone will know you've been thoroughly claimed."
I worshipped her with my mouth, taking my time despite her pleas for more. She'd been so tight last night, unused to invasion, and I needed her ready for me. Needed her body soft and welcoming before I claimed her again.
"Neil, please," she begged, her hands fisting in my hair. "I need you inside me. You need to fill me up."
"Not yet," I growled against her sensitive flesh. "You're still sore from last night. I need to make sure you're ready."
"I'm ready. I'm so ready. Please, I need it."
She came apart against my mouth, crying my name loud enough to echo through the workshop. The sound of her pleasure, knowing I was the only one who'd ever given it to her, made me harder than I'd ever been in my life.
When I finally stood and freed myself from my jeans, her eyes went wide at the sight of me. Like she was still amazed that we'd fit together, that she had taken all of me.
"You're mine," I said, positioning myself at her entrance. "Say it."
"I'm yours," she gasped as I pushed inside slowly, carefully, watching her face for any sign of discomfort.
"All mine," I growled, fighting for control as her tight heat surrounded me. "The only man who's ever been inside you. The only one who ever will be."
"The only one," she agreed, wrapping her legs around my waist to pull me deeper. "I only want you, Neil. Only ever you."
We moved together with increasing urgency, and I couldn't stop the words that poured out of me. Promises about the house I'd build her, the babies I'd give her, the life we'd create on this mountain. She met each promise with one of her own—that she'd stay forever, that she'd give me children, that she'd never want another man.
"I'm going to keep you pregnant," I growled as I felt her getting close. "As soon as you give birth, I'm going to fill you up again. Our house is going to overflow with babies."
"Yes," she cried, her body clenching around me. "I want that. I want to give you everything."
When she came apart in my arms, crying my name like I was her salvation, I followed her over the edge. I held myself deep inside her, imagining my seed taking root, imagining her belly rounding with my child.
Mine. This woman was mine forever now.
Afterward, we held each other on my workbench, her head on my chest, both of us breathing hard and utterly satisfied. The late afternoon sun painted golden stripes across the sawdust-covered floor, and I knew that nothing—not her former boss, not the academic world, not anything—would take her from me now.
"I should call Dr. Pemberton," she said eventually, though I could hear the reluctance in her voice. "Request extended research leave, explain about the discovery."
My arms tightened around her automatically. The thought of that bastard trying to manipulate her, control her, make her feelmeaningless again made me want to break things. Specifically, him.
"What will you tell him?"
