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When her orgasm broke, she cried out incoherently, her back arching under him. He maintained an even pace, drawing it out until her shuddering eased. Only then did he hook a hand beneath her knee, pushing her leg to her chest. He gave in to his baser instincts, and it only took a few hard thrusts before his own release curled through his body and he let loose a deep, guttural cry as he emptied into her.

Trembling, Ronan lowered himself over Felicity, burying his face in her neck.

The world narrowed to the woman in his arms and the steady beat of her heart.

Tomorrow would look out for itself.

There was only this moment.

Now.

Her. Him. Together.

*

Ronan jerked awake and lay motionless, listening. The house was silent except for the wheezing snores of the dogs drifting through the open bedroom door.

The mattress shifted. Felicity whimpered. “No more,” she pleaded. “Please. No more.”

His chest tightened at the pain packed into those simple words. He clicked the bedside light on, noting the time of 3:12 a.m. and turned toward her. They had fallen asleep wrapped around each other, Felicity tucked safely against his side.

Now she lay curled into a tight ball near the edge of the mattress, knees drawn to her chest.

The sight damn near broke his heart.

He moved closer and ran a hand down her arm. “Wake up, sweetheart,” he whispered.

She whimpered again.

He lowered his head, brushed his lips to her shoulder. “You’re safe. Completely safe. Time to wake up.” He kept his voice low and even.

Felicity gasped and stiffened. “Ronan?”

“Right here.”

“H-hold me.”

“Of course.” He slipped an arm under her neck and drew her against him with the other.

She grabbed his hand and clutched it between both of hers. “He…” She sucked in a shaky breath. “He handed me around … like a p-party favor.”

The words took a moment to register.

Then the horror of them hit.

Not for the first time, he found himself wishing the dead could be killed twice.

But none of that mattered right now.

Only the woman trembling in his arms.

He tightened his hold. “I am so sorry,” he whispered. “So damned sorry, Lissy-love.” The words felt hopelessly inadequate.

“It was Christmas.” Her voice was flat. Hollow. “A party. Vasily’s business associates.”

Ronan frowned. “Vasily?”

“Hmm. He thought it amusing to pass around the Pakhan’s fifteen-year-old granddaughter.” Her fingers tightened around his. “He and Sergei had a disagreement, and Vasily wanted to punish him, so he…” She scraped her throat. “He used me.”