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“I’d marry you, if I could,” he said against my mouth. “Give you my name, my home, my life. All of it.”

I cried out his name, fingers leaving little moons in his skin.

“I’d spend my life at your beck and call. Desperate just to please you, to make you smile.”

I bit my lower lip so hard I tasted blood. He shifted my hips back the smallest bit and I whimpered when he sank another inch in.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” His grin was slow, wicked. “I think you like knowing how much power you have over me. That’s just fine,” he said, more to himself than me. “Everything I am is already yours.”

He captured my mouth, thumbing my chin until his tongue brushed against mine. He urged me to move faster, lifting his hips for mine. I came on a long, shuddering breath, arms locked around his shoulders. He followed behind, biting the soft skin of my neck as he did it.

Could he leave a bruise?

I almost hoped that he did.

We fell to the sheets in a tangle of sweaty limbs and delirious smiles. He groaned at the sight of my bare legs but hoisted himself from bed, stepping into his pants.

“Meet me downstairs in twenty,” he said, gripping my chin and kissing me quickly. “Don’t make me wait.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, saluting him.

“Careful,” he warned. “I am a lord, you know. I don’t tolerate disrespect.”

I laughed, watching him move around the bed. “Oh, what are you going to do? Take me over your knee?”

His eyes darkened at my words. “Don’t tempt me.”

Suddenly, it was all I wanted to do.

“Behave, my little tormentor. Twenty minutes.” He gave me one more searing glance before slipping down the hall and back toward the sitting room.

I gave myself one moment to scream into my pillow, to let my smile come, to feel the gravity of such a thing. I realized then that I’d never been in love before. Not like this. This—this soul-shattering, world-altering, heart-wrenching sort of love.

One that could rewrite the world, bridge us across an endless divide.

It was mine.

Even if it was just for a few days, it was mine.

I cleaned myself up in the bathroom and changed. I splashed cold water on my face and neck, surprised to find the small bite mark just beside my shoulder. It was sore when I touched it and it served as one more reminder that this was real.

As real as could be, for now, at least.

I made my way downstairs just at the twenty minute mark. He wasn’t in the sitting room.

“Wolfe?”

“Kitchen!” he called, and I followed the trail of his voice downstairs.

I stopped at the bottom of the stairs unsure of what I was really seeing. Wolfe stood at the stove, kettle already on and humming. He had eggs in a pan, a spatula moving back and forth to break them up. The smell of bread filled the kitchen and I stared at him in wonder.

“What are you doing?”

“Making you breakfast,” he said easily. “Sit, please. Let me do this.”

I couldn’t have done anything even if I tried. I sank onto my usual stool and watched him. He scraped the eggs onto a plate and grabbed two pieces of toast from the toaster in the corner. When the water boiled, he fixed me a cup of tea exactly how I liked it.

He presented everything to me with a small, boyish smile that made my heart feel like it could burst. I crooked my finger at him and he came willingly, smiling as I touched my mouth to his.