And then again. And again. And it was like a gift for every moment in her life that had gone uncelebrated. For every little bit of pleasure that had been denied her by the stoic nature of her childhood. For every bit of fear that she’d been taught to feel whenever she wanted something.

This was the gift. His mouth. That wicked mouth, that outlawed touch.

He made her want to be bad, but perhaps even better, he made this not feel bad. He made it feel wonderful. He made her feel free.

And then he kissed his way back up her body, his mouth fastened to hers, as he positioned himself between her thighs, the blunt head of his arousal testing her there.

“Please,” she whispered.

He growled and thrust deep inside of her.

She clung to his shoulders, hoping to find something to anchor her to the earth. To help her breathe past the pain.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. And she believed him.

Then he began to move, and the pain started to fade. Pleasure building upon it, pleasure making her dizzy.

There was something more. Something that went beyond physical pleasure. She wasn’t alone. She was with him. He was in her. And it was something deeper and more profound than she could have ever imagined. He understood her. He knew what she wanted. He understood her body’s needs. She had never felt like she fit with anyone or anything in all of her life. Not her own family, not the people she had gone to school with. Not even the people here at Four Corners, however lovely they were. But he fit. He fit. And it didn’t matter that it made no sense, it simply was.

He was hers. Her everything.

Her outlaw.

And when his body began to shiver and shake with his own release, she held on to him tight, and when he fractured, she let go. And they were united in that moment. Where all was lost and found in equal measure. And then she rested her head on his chest and clung to his sweat-slicked body.

She put her hand right above the stitches, examining that spot. “I’m glad I didn’t hurt you.”

He chuckled. “It would be worth it. I’d stitch myself back up three times if it meant having you.”

“I don’t think anyone’s ever wanted me enough to go to that kind of trouble.”

He pushed her hair off of her face. “I could say the same.”

“Sleep here,” she said. “Don’t go back to the couch.”

“If that’s what you want.”

“It’s what I want.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

OVER THE NEXT couple of weeks they settled into a pattern. He worked around the house during the day, he made sure to cook for her every night and then they went to bed together, after making love at least twice. And sometimes he would wake her up after she had fallen asleep and have her again.

He was happy with it, but he knew it couldn’t last. There was just no way. Keeping her close like this while there was still danger out there...