Page 70 of Ruthless Enforcer

Then I move.

Slow, like I promised. Deep, deliberate thrusts that make her gasp and arch beneath me. I keep my weight on my forearms, watching her face, reading every flicker of pleasure and discomfort.

"Too much?" I ask.

"No." She shakes her head. "More."

"Greedy." And I love it. I shift my angle, hitting that spot inside her that makes her cry out, and her nails dig into my back hard enough to leave marks.

Good. I want her to mark me. I want anyone who sees me shirtless to know I belong to her.

"Faster," she breathes.

"I thought you wanted slow."

"You wanted it slow. I only want you."

Fuck me. How can I not give her what she wants when she talks like that?

My hips snap forward, harder now, faster, and the bed creaks beneath us. The bed could collapse and I wouldn’t give a fuck as long as Clara was wrapped around me.

I slide my hand between us, finding her clit, and I feel the way her body tightens around me in response.

She grinds against me, against my hand, lost to sensation. "Don't stop."

"I'm not stopping, Duchess.” I nip her neck on my way to her lips. “Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Not ever."

The words are out before I can stop them, and I see the way her eyes widen, the way her breath catches.

She knows what I just admitted.

She knows I'm not talking about sex.

I kiss her, swallowing whatever she’s about to say, and drive into her harder until there's no space between us, no boundaries, no pretense that this is temporary or strategic or anything except exactly what it is.

Mine.

She's mine.

Clara comes first, her body clenching around me, her cry muffled against my mouth. I follow seconds later, my orgasm ripping through me with a force that leaves me shaking.

I collapse on top of her, my face buried in her neck, my heart pounding so hard I'm surprised it doesn't break through my ribs.

For a long moment, neither of us moves. Then Clara's hand slides into my hair, her fingers gentle and soothing. "Gabriel?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm not asking you to say it back."

I lift my head, meeting her eyes. "Say what back?"

"That you love me."

My chest tightens.

"I know you're not ready," she continues softly. "And that's okay. I just… I needed you to know. That I love you. That this isn't temporary for me. I'm not going anywhere, unless you want me to."

Raising my head, I stare at her, this impossible woman who walked into my life a week ago and turned everything I thought I knew upside down. This woman who proposed to me at a kitchen table surrounded by strangers.