He slid a hand beneath her gown and up the back of her thighs. Squeezed her luscious bottom. Caressed the slick heat between her legs. The temperature rose and the coach windows fogged over. Only the two of them existed, and they were both panting, dizzy with desire.

With nimble fingers, she unbuttoned his trousers and stroked the long, hard length of him. “I have missed you,” she said. “I have dreamed of this—of you—every night.”

He gasped as she positioned his cock at her entrance and writhed against him. “You’re amazing, Soph. I can’t believe you’re here … with me like this.”

“I’m here,” she repeated, taking him inside her tight, hot body. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

He eased in slowly, letting her adjust to the size of him. Her knees on either side of his hips, she placed her palms on the ceiling of the cab and began moving up and down, slow and fast, measured and frenzied. The swaying of the coach and the vibration of the seat felt wickedly erotic. Every time she lowered herself, sheathing him completely, he went a little mad. In the best bloody way.

He grasped her hips and nibbled the taut peak of one breast until she whimpered. Clenched her muscles around him. Cried out in ecstasy.

“Oh God, Reese.” Her eyes fluttered shut, her back arched, and her body pulsed as release shimmered through her, carrying him right along.

Head buzzing, muscles coiling, he came with the raw force and power of a hurricane. Pleasure, pure and potent, roared through his body, mind, and soul, obliterating the grief and guilt inside of him. Washing it out to sea.

He and Sophie floated above the storm, clinging to each other and savoring every surge, until, at last, she collapsed on top of him. Resting her head on his shoulder, she murmured, “I love you.”

He trailed his fingertips over her bare back, soothing her heated skin. “I love you.”

But as she slid her hand from the side of his neck down his chest, she sat up, frowning. “What’s this?”

“Hmm?” His mind was still pleasantly dazed, his body completely sated.

She patted the outside of his jacket. “There’s something hard in here.”

“Oh.” Grinning, he sat up, pulled the object out of his pocket, and presented it to her. “For you.”

“My journal,” she breathed. Once again, her expression turned rapturous as she clutched the book to her gloriously naked breasts.

“I didn’t think it possible to be jealous of a journal,” he said. “But I’ve proven myself wrong.”

“I thought you’d burned this!” she exclaimed.

He shook his head. “I only wanted Singleton to believe I had.”

“Thank you.” She leaned forward and kissed him, warming his chest and completely thawing the frozen center of his heart.

Reluctantly, he pulled away. “We’ll be at Warshire Manor soon. Let me help you straighten your gown.”