Page 152 of Tin God

He began kissing down her body and let out a happy growl when he felt her fingers stroke through his hair. He was letting it grow, and it was getting to be more and more bearlike with every passing month. He was working toward a full reddish pelt while Brigid’s hair was barely a pixie cut these days.

It suited her. He suited her.

Carwyn kissed down her body, teasing and tickling her the way he knew she loved. The only time he’d ever heard Brigid giggle was when he made her laugh in bed.

She loved him. She loved his great clumsy heart that fell in love with her, tripping over itself again and again, every time he caught a glimpse of her beautiful eyes or her pert nose. It fumbled like a clumsy oaf when her fangs dropped or her stern mouth hinted at the beginning of a smile.

She was a warrior, and he adored her. He’d spend eternity adoring her, and it wouldn’t be anything but what she deserved.

Carwyn pressed a long kiss to the scar in the shape of a curled feather that had burned into the skin on her belly.

Oh, his fine woman. This soldier with the softest heart.

“I love you so much,” she whispered.

He couldn’t take any more. He crawled up her body, kissed her full on the mouth, and entered her, joining their bodies as if it was the first and the only and the always of what they were. It was every night they’d shared their amnis and every moment they’d made love.

He worshipped her with his body, coaxing her to climax before he flipped them over and wrung another cry of pleasure from her chest.

When he finally came, Carwyn felt the ground beneath him rock in response to the intense pleasure of her bite.

“You know.” Brigid laid her head on his barrel chest and played with the fine red hair that ran from his navel to his groin. “This is why we’re banished to the basement.”

A belly laugh burst from him, and the ground shook with that pleasure too.

He smacked a kiss on the top of her head. “I like being in the basement.”

Carwyn had dug out their room at the ranch, an annex carved into the bedrock of the valley, joined to the main house by a long tunnel that afforded him and Brigid enough privacy that they could feel like it was their own but still connected to the family.

Her voice was sleepy. “Bali is it?”

“It’s warm and sunny.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “I bet I can pick up a few good shirts in Bali.”

“Oh, I know ya can.” She smiled. “I don’t think you have a neon-pink one yet. We’ll have to keep an eye out.”

“And aren’t you the best old girl a man could have, Brigid Connor!” He put on his broadest Welsh accent. “Ooh, fy blodyn tatws.”

She laughed a little bit. “What are ya calling me?”

“Mydarlinglittle potato flower.”

“You are not.”

“I definitely am.”

She could not contain her smile, but she shook her head and covered it with her pillow. “You insane man, why do I love ya so much?”

“How could you not?” He jumped out of bed and curled his arms to flex his biceps. “Good Lord, woman, I’m a specimen.”

Her eyes were not on his biceps, and her smile only grew broader. “I can’t say you’re not.”

“Keep looking at me like that and you’ll spend all night in this bed.”

“Is that supposed to be a threat?”

He jumped back into the bed, caging her with his arms and lowering his head to take her lips in a long and generous kiss.

“You delight me,” he whispered. “My bride.”

“Do ya think we’ll ever get sick of each other?” Brigid asked. “In a hundred years? A thousand?”

“Le do thoil. Please.” He scoffed. “We’ll have forgotten everything we learned by then and we can just start all over.”

“Sláinte! Cheers to that.” She laughed, and it was the most perfect sound in the world.

It was the most perfect sound in eternity.

And it was his.