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He turned to her, this warrior of a man, framed by the front door and the landscape of cold white beyond. His muscles strained under his coat, his body shaking with rage. The hard cut of his jawline—solid, immovable, impenetrable stone.
Strength she’d never seen him allow unbridled.
Unbridled for her.
She wanted him like never before.
He hadn’t turned for but a moment before she crashed into him, her lips finding his. Remnants of his raw anger sent him on the attack, bruising her lips, crushing her body to his.
She took it all, took everything he always was. Because now he was hers.
He lifted her up, walking—stalking up the stairs as his mouth stayed ravenous on hers and he moved straight to his room.
She realized the boorishness of it—leaving the doctor and Bailey standing with their gaping mouths in the foyer below—but she was no force against it.
This—her and Domnall together—had needed to happen for so long there was no more denying it, no more delaying it.
He crashed through the door to his chambers, slamming the door closed behind him.
The door bounced back open with the force, and he pulled his mouth away from her as he leaned against the door to close it. She reached past his shoulder to latch it.
“That took too bloody long,” he exhaled in a long breath.
His hand shifted under her backside and she tightened her grip around his neck as she wedged her legs upward to wrap along his hip bones. “The wedding?”
“Yes—the wedding—smashing the entitlement off of George’s face.” The growl in his chest vibrated against her breasts. “The whole of it.”
“Too long?” Her words came out breathless, her air mingling with his. “How is that possible? It was five minutes traded for a lifetime.”
“Five minutes is too long when all I can think about is ripping the clothing off your body.”
“You aren’t about to woo me into bed?”
“We’re not going to the bed. And you don’t like to be wooed. You like my body hard against yours. You like action. You always have. And you’ll like me turning us around and me taking you hard against the door.”
A pang sparked in the depth of her, her core aching at his words, and a throaty laugh escaped from deep in her chest. “I think there’s a reason I just married you.”
“You love me?”
“Yes. But I love you because you’re the only person in this world that has ever taken the time to know what I like. How I think. You have always seen me. Me beyond who my father is. Me beyond the pawn that I have been. To look past what others think of me.” Her voice trailed off on her last words.
“No. I’ll not have that, Karta.” He walked over to the bed and plucked her body off his, then dropped her onto the side of the bed. He leaned over her, his voice a low roar. “I’ll not have those words, that doubt from your lips ever again—do you understand?”
Without waiting for an answer, he turned from her, his fingers ripping through his cravat to loosen it and drag it free of his neck. Boots, coat, waistcoat, lawn shirt, trousers. He stripped down in front of her so quickly she didn’t even have time to blink.
His bare backside to her, the glory of his skin, of his muscles taut, rippling along every hard curve of his body made her mouth water. Made her question how she was ever going to manage to please him for all his wonder.
Her hands went down to her boots and she tugged them off, then sat upright. She expelled a held breath. “I thought we weren’t going to the bed.”
He glanced over his shoulder at her. “I changed my mind.”
Moving over to the tall dresser along the inner wall, he pulled free the top drawer. His fingers quick, he yanked out two long cravats of white cloth. “This should do.” He walked over to the bed, stopping in front of her, his manhood large and engorged and directly at her eye level.
For all that her tongue was watering a moment ago, her mouth went dry, her core pounding with anticipation.
Her chin tilted up, her eyes wide. “Do for what?”
“Tying wrists to the bed.”
