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It wouldn’t take that long for that to happen. He was already halfway there.

But he knew he couldn’t. She wanted passion, but she didn’t want him. And he couldn’t tie her to him forever. Tie himself to her. No matter how tempting.

But it was so tempting. Almost too tempting not to give in.

Instead, he kissed her mouth, sweeping his tongue inside her core and tasting every corner of her as his cock throbbed against her center. He imagined thrusting inside her, and he moved his hips with every plunge of his tongue. He imitated the salacious act, as it was the closest he would get to filling her. Owning her.

But that wasn’t enough. He had thought that bringing her to pleasure would give her what she wanted—craved—and it would give him closure.

It didn’t.

It only spurred him on more. It drove him wild with need for her. The scent of her arousal drifted to his nostrils, and he was like a ravenous animal that wanted to devour her.

She’d bewitched him with her mewling cries, her needy whimpers, and the subtle movements of her body that convinced him she wanted more. And he wanted it too.

Her nails grazed his scalp, her fingers sifting through his wet locks, as her naked body pressed against his, welcoming him, hugging him, molding against him perfectly as if she was made for his arms.

She rode his cock with her pelvis, grinding against him in her need to climax again. She was inflamed by her orgasm so that now every little touch caused her to spasm in pleasure. He wasn’t surprised when after a couple of minutes, she came again.

She was a fucking miracle.

My miracle.

He shook his head to dispel the thought, but it didn’t help.

Because with every beating of his heart, the gentle staccato spelled out her name.

B-E-A-T-R-I-C-E.

Whether she wanted it or not, she was his.

Mine.

She opened her warm brown eyes, her gaze unfocused, and smiled languidly. “Whoa,” she exclaimed in wonder on an exhale. It was as if she wasn’t capable of intelligible speech.

However, neither was he. For an entirely different reason, though.

For if she’d found her bliss—twice—his nether regions ached, his loins burning from need and frustration. He gently lowered her until her feet touched the floor, his hands on her waist as she relearned to balance on her own.

“That was…” She paused, her mouth opening and closing, but no sounds emerged.

“Yes,” he agreed and stepped back.

With a wince, he readjusted himself in his wet breeches—now wet for two different reasons, and both of them pleasant. He still couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her. Her body now glowed in the reddish morning light, making her look more like the goddess she was.

Wait a moment…

He whipped his head to the window and caught the rays of the rising sun. “Damn. It’s morning.”

Her eyes rounded as she understood the implication. “The servants.”

He nodded frantically and pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “I have to leave.”

He stalked to the door, but Beatrice called after him, “Your coat!”

Adam raked his fingers through his hair, gathering his scattered thoughts. Right, he had a coat there somewhere. Beatrice squinted at the dimly lit room, trying to find it, although she couldn’t see much farther than the tip of her nose. Adam walked over to the chair to collect his coat, then to her bedside table and picked up her spectacles. He crossed the room back to her and gingerly placed the spectacles on the bridge of her nose, then gave them a light push to settle them comfortably.

“Thank you.” Beatrice smiled at him and leaned in for another kiss.