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Gasping for breath, Kingston rested his forehead against hers, battling to find a single thread of self-control. He must stop before it was too late. There’d be no going back if he made love to her.

Once more, lust would seal his fate. And someone else’s, too. Someone he cared for very much. But this mysterious, inexpressible thing was more—holy Jesus, so much more—than mere lust.

“Kingston, I want you,” she moaned.

Ah, hell.

He’d known the moment Vanessa kissed him that he was lost. She consumed him, his desire a conflagration in his soul, an inferno he couldn’t extinguish. Nor, quite honestly, did he wish to.

So they’d consummate their vows. Stay married.

There were far, far worse things than being married to this nymph.

At that moment, he couldn’t bring himself to regret what they were about to do. For certain, self-castigation would scourge him later.

Bending, he scooped Vanessa into his arms. As he carried her to the settee, she placed hot little kisses over his jaw and neck.

He chuckled, genuine joy burgeoning in him.

His wife was a hot-blooded little spitfire.

Letting her slide to her feet, he framed her face between his palms and peered into her eyes. “If we do this, Nessa, there is no going back.”