Page 40 of A Midsummer Night's Rendezvous

He drew his fingers out. “I want you,” he said, voice raw.

She reached between them, pushing down the fall of his trousers, and found him thick and hot in her hand. He hissed when she stroked him, and she laughed, drunk on the power, the intimacy, the knowledge that this man was hers.

“I want you, too,” she whispered.

He lifted her, poised her over him, and for a heartbeat they hovered, breath mingling, hearts thundering in concert. Then he lowered her onto him, inch by slow inch, until she was filled, stretched, possessed.

They moved together, finding the rhythm of the road and turning it to their advantage. The seat creaked beneath them, the thick velvet muffling the sound of bodies, the groans and gasps and whispered words that spilled from Gabriel’s mouth as he lost himself in her. Eden rode him, her head thrown back, fingers digging into his shoulders, hair coming loose in wild curls that tumbled down her back.

He reached between them, thumb circling that sensitive spot at the top of her entrance, and she shattered, her body clenching tight around him as she cried out his name. He followed her, hips thrusting up as he spilled into her, his own voice hoarse with relief and adoration.

For a long moment, they were silent, bodies pressed together, breath mingling. Outside, the world sped past, but inside the carriage, they treasured every heartbeat.

Gabriel kissed her throat, her cheek, her temple. “You are a wonder,” he whispered.

“Tell me more,” she said, a teasing grin curving nervously lips.

“You may be the death of me, minx,” he said, eyes sparkling.

She nestled against him, letting the thump of his heart lull her. “There are worse ways to go.”

He shifted her gently off his lap, buttoning his trousers, then setting her gown to rights, his hands lingering a little longer than necessary at the bodice. When he reached her hair, he twisted it up, pinning errant curls with the care of a man who took pride in every detail.

“There,” he said, admiring his handiwork. “As lovely as the moment I carried you across the threshold.”

She caught his hand, lacing their fingers together. “Gabriel?”

“Yes, love?”

“Do you think it will always be like this?” She let the question hang. Anxiety, hope, and wonder all tangled together.

He squeezed her hand, his eyes earnest, steady. “You can count on it, Eden, my love. Until the world ends, and after.”

She smiled, tears pricking behind her lashes. “Good. Because I could not bear it if you grew bored.”

He kissed her, soft and sure. “I never will.”

They settled side by side. The future stretching ahead—a future of chaos and beauty and love unbreakable.

Eden closed her eyes, letting him hold her, safe in the knowledge that she would always have his friendship, laughter, and love. And as the carriage continued on toward Blackstone, she let the rhythm of the road carry her, dreaming not of the past, or even the present, but of every tomorrow to come.