Page 111 of Stolen Rebel

He scrunches up his face like he bit into a lemon. “Why? Are you sore? Did he hurt you?” Color drains from his face, as I hurry to cover his lips with my fingers.

“No, nothing like that. I got my period.”

The eye roll he gives me should go down in history. “You think a little blood is going to stop me from fucking you, Rebel?” His eyes sparkle with challenge, like he’s daring me to say no so he can prove how little he cares.

I clear my throat. “It’s eh… not a little anything.” I twist my shirt in my fist. “My periods are fucking heavy.”

“Let me make something crystal clear.” He cups my face with both his palms. “If you want me to fuck you, I don’t care if you’re covered in the blood of our enemies, or if you have your period, I will fuck you.” His eyes tell me he’s serious. “We have washing machines. If we make a mess…” He hikes a shoulder. “So be it.” His grin is wicked. “You know I’ve always loved it when you make a mess.”

It takes a moment for his words to settle into my bones. “Okay, but this time…” My voice is laden with lust, but steady. “We do it my way.”

“Whatever you need, mo rún.” His hands flex at his sides like restraint is a battle he’s barely winning.

God. His answer punches me in the solar plexus. For so long, I didn’t get a choice. And now, he’s giving me free rein.

He doesn’t touch me again. He just stands there, watching me like the next move is mine to make. I take it, closing the distance between us. My hands find his shirt first, curling into the fabric as I breathe him in.

His breath shifts, his chest rising higher with each inhale, but he still doesn’t move. I tilt my head up, meeting his gaze. There’s heat there, a hunger I feel somewhere deep inside with something darker threaded through it. But it’s held tight. For me.

“You don’t get to disappear on me again.” His voice is low, something between a command and a plea.

My fingers tighten in his shirt. “Then don’t give me a reason to run.”

Something flares in his eyes right before he lifts his hand, slowly, like he’s giving me time to pull away.

I don’t.

His fingers brush my jaw, rough and careful at the same time, almost hesitant, like he doesn’t quite trust himself. I lean into it.

“I thought I’d never have this again,” I whisper.

His whole body stills. When his mouth finally meets mine, it’s not rushed. It’s deliberate, like he’s relearning me. I drink him in. The familiar scent, the way everything inside me settles and ignites all at once.

This isn’t survival. I’m not stolen anymore. I’m home, where I was always meant to be, with the man I love.

He walks me back slowly, step by step, until the edge of the bed presses against the backs of my knees. I don’t look away from him as I sit. He follows me down, slower than I expect, like he’s not taking a single second of this for granted as he cages me in on the bed.

I pull him closer, because I hate how far away he feels even though he’s right there.

His forehead rests against mine for a beat. “You’re here,” he murmurs.

I swallow, my head skimming his as I nod. “I’m here.”

He captures my mouth with his, our tongues tangling in a slow dance of reconnection, relief, rediscovery. I don’t know how he gets us both naked without barely taking a breath and my fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck, but he does.

He explores every inch of my body with his lips and the gentlest of touches, leaving waves of gooseflesh blooming over my skin. He kisses me, palming my breasts, shifting his weight lower in the bed before settling between my legs.

“Liam.” My breathy voice is quiet, so I try again, fisting his hair and pulling his head up to make him look at me. “You don’t have to prove a point.”

He licks his lips. “If I want to eat out my woman, I’ll eat out my woman.” He tips his head to the side, my heart racing, heat pooling low in my belly. “Are you telling me I can’t eat you out, mo rún?”

He trails his thumb over my clit, dragging a guttural moan from the back of my throat as I shake my head. “N-n-no. J-just.” I hiss out a breath as he slides his thumb over the sensitive bud again. “Just saying you don’t have to.” My words tumble out right as his mouth seals over my clit, and he sucks.

I barely feel when he removes my tampon, and his tongue doesn’t stop, so God only knows where he drops it, but his determination to make me come only increases when he slides his fingers inside me.

I’ve never had someone touch me when I’m on my period before, but when he presses a flat palm down on my abdomen and curls his fingers against my G-spot, I make the split decision that he’ll do it every damn month. Because it’s everything I never knew I needed.

The cramps don’t stand a chance against Liam Mahoney. Fuck. He sucks my soul out of my clit, making my back bow off the bed. My hair sticks to my sweaty face as I throw my head back and scream his name, coming in wave after wave of blissful release.