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He strips his pants, unbuttoning his shirt with trembling hands. It pulls away, and I see the crest tattooed on his chest.

It’s large, colorful, but as I touch it, he hisses as if I’ve sliced him.

I trace the ends, the lion’s body, the lines in the tartan. Delicate black etches, done by a steady hand to decorate his creamy skin. When I touch the top, he cages my hand against his collarbone.

“I did it as a kid,” he confesses. Wide, vibrant eyes look up at me, and I don’t see the man I’ve fallen in love with—I see a little boy, looking for understanding.

“Why?”

“My father,” he mutters, sharply. “He wasn’t a good man, Sunshine. Ferguson did terrible things to my sisters and me.” He looks away, jaw tense. “Well, he hated me because I was born a boy—and last. I was his competition.”

“You put the crest on your body to show him your loyalty?”

“To show him I was loyal to him. To the O’Brien name, no matter his fears.”

“What do your sisters think?” I sit up on my elbows, him crawling over me. “Are you an O’Brien to them?”

“I am,” he confirms. “Pretty sure Maeve likes you better than me.”

I bat my eyelashes, smiling at him. “I guess I was always meant to be an O’Brien.”

“You were always meant to be my wife,” he clarifies. “An O’Brien or not, you were meant to be mine. Fate decreed it.” He lowers his body on top of mine, and I groan. His weight is heavenly and sorely missed.

Lifting my leg, he kisses my knee. “I need you,” he whispers. “In ways I’ve never needed anyone else. That’s not normal, right?”

I raise my hand, playing with his bangs. “Maybe. But I need you the same way. So, we’re both not normal.”

He shifts, pulling my panties down. He dangles them, the green gems dancing in the moonlight. “I’m keeping these. Not for our kids—but for me.” He throws them to the side, and his hard erection slides inside me with little forewarning. The burn is exquisite, and my back arches. Lights dance in my vision, and I gasp. His piercing rubs somewhere inside of me, stealing my breath.

This must be what Eden felt like.

“Fuck,” he groans, dropping his head to my chest. “Christ, Sunshine, you feel so good.”

Panting, I grip his head, forcing his lips to mine. “You’re big,” I say against his lips.

“Keep stroking my ego; it’ll get you everywhere with me.” Pulling back, his fingers find my clit, parting the soft curls, and I jolt at the sensation.

He thrusts deeply, easing the stretch with his skilled hands. Hovering over me, he pulls down my bra, breast spilling out. His hot mouth sucks on one nipple, then my neck, teeth raking against my skin. Goosebumps dot my arms, and my body tightens as his hand continues caressing.

Every stroke brings me closer to the edge. I’m running toward it, lost to the sensations. He feels me clamp down, keeping his rhythm but harder. Deeper. Shit. I screw my eyes closed.

“Open those eyes, baby,” he grunts. “I want to watch you come on my cock. Consider it a wedding gift.”

My eyes fly open, and he grins. “There they are.”

He rotates his hip, and my mouth parts. “Oh Dio…”

“I’ll accept the title,” he quips, fingers digging into the meat of my legs. I’ll have bruises, and it drives a spike of pleasure down to my core. My pussy grows wetter, and he growls, pleased. “I can be your God, baby, as long as you only call out for me.”

He skirts me across the bed, and I lock my legs. His thumb moves the right way, and I lose my focus. It’s a hard wave, violent and lovely, crashing into me as the orgasm erupts. I scream out, arching my back.

Briar only gets one more thrust before he follows me over the edge. He bites my shoulder, teeth cutting me, and I yelp. The pain grounds me back to the present as I feel his release flood me.

I’ll need to get on the pill if this keeps happening.

Dropping back, I close my eyes. “Holy⁠—”

“I’m not done.” He crawls down my body, kissing my belly, my hips, and thighs with reverence. “I don’t settle for one orgasm.”