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Can’t hold on any longer. Her hand shot between her legs, fingers massaging in sharp, small circles. And her body went up in flames. Her muscles clenched, lust burning through her veins, hips bucking as bliss consumed her. Rafe slammed into her with new vigor, the table rocking violently. And then he pulled out of her, hand shooting to his cock. It shuttled over his thick shaft in a blur. His body bowed over as his husky groan filled her kitchen, his seed shooting over her stomach and stays.

He collapsed atop her, forearms bracing on either side of her head. Their ragged breaths mingled in the small space between them. His eyes were closed, red streaks painted on his cheekbones. She stretched up and kissed each cheek.

“That was lovely,” he mumbled.

She chuckled. “It certainly was. Though I think my stays are ruined.”

His forehead dropped to hers. “I’ll buy you new ones.”

“I know.”

And now he was the one chuckling.

Her eyes slid shut, and the most wonderful contentment settled over her. Could life get any better? She didn’t think so.

Cold air slapped her skin as he lifted off her, and she let out a sad sigh. As hard as her worktable was, she could have stayed there forever. She shifted back a bit and sat up, resting on her hands while Rafe retrieved some cloths to clean up.

They were taking measures to avoid pregnancy. For now. Theo wasn’t entirely certain how she felt about having children. She couldn’t deny it made her uneasy because of her mother’s fate. She also loved her life the way it was. She wanted to enjoy Rafe and their newfound time together.

Rafe had told her in no uncertain terms that he had no qualms if they never had children. Theo thought it might have something to do with his mother. Her heart squeezed. He’d told her he was certain his father had killed his mother because she hadn’t been able to bear another child after Rafe. He would never ever demand children from Theo. He’d meant it when he’d said he was more than fine if the line ended with him all those days ago at his townhouse in London. He had distant cousins who would inherit if needed.

Perhaps one day. But until then, they would enjoy each other. Enjoy family. Friends.

The future was nothing but bright.

Because they would be building it together.

He stepped up to her, wet cloths in hand. She cupped his cheek and drew him into a sweet, slow kiss.

“I love you,” she whispered.

He hummed against her mouth. A happy, content purr.

“I love you, too.”

Epilogue

RAFE

“I can’t believe the day is finally here,” Rafe said.

Derek nudged his shoulder in silent agreement. Tomorrow the foundling home would open. It was done; every room prepared, a large staff at the ready and waiting for their charges. Two large halls bordered a large courtyard before them. One for girls and one for boys. A smaller dwelling rested at the far end, directly across from them, where babes and younger charges would stay with nursemaids until they were old enough to move to one of the main halls.

“Didn’t think it would come for a little while there,” Rupert murmured.

“Fortunately for you sods, I swept in and saved the day.”

Derek sighed heavily at Mr. Quinton Sheffield’s announcement, and Rafe stifled his amusement. Derek loved to play annoyed at Quinton. The man reminded Rafe quite a bit of Sebastian. He was…a lot. Full of mischief and energy. But one couldn’t deny he’d been a huge asset in the completion of the foundling home. He’d taken a large amount of stress off Rafe’s shoulders with his donation to the project.

Quinton threw his arm around his best friend, Mr. Warren Thorton, another who had donated funds to the foundling home endeavor. “Soon that field will be chock-full of children running around. I cannot wait to visit. You know…I had a thought…”

Everyone groaned. Quinton had a great many of these thoughts, and more than a few had delayed the completion of the project. Fortunately, they also tended to be good ideas. Like the schoolhouse that stood just beyond the main building, its tall windows gleaming in the distance.

At their current, much smaller foundling home, tradespersons came in to work with the children, and they placed considerable emphasis on teaching them skills that would aid them in finding employment when they were old enough. But aside from the occasional volunteer—like Mr. Fitzwilliam Jennings, who taught the children Italian—they had no formal schooling.

Quinton had insisted that proper education be included in the new foundling home. Rafe couldn’t believe they hadn’t thought of it earlier. It may have delayed the project and added to the cost, but the children would be all the better for it, given the opportunities an education would afford them. And so, they now had a schoolhouse with several classrooms and a well-stocked library. Teachers had been hired to instruct the children in arithmetic and bookkeeping, reading and writing, geography, history, and the natural sciences.

“What is it this time?” Warren said, amusement dancing through his words.