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His hand moved down over my shoulder, carefully avoiding the bandage, then followed my side until his fingers reached the waistband of my jeans. He stopped with his hand resting on the button and looked at me.

“Tell me to stop,” he said.

“I… I cannot.”

The smallest hint of a smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

“Every sound, Miss Hale,” he murmured. “I intend to hear them from you and remember them forever.”

He opened the button and lowered the zipper with maddening patience. His hand slipped inside, resting flat against my stomach for a moment before moving beneath the edge of my panties and lower between my legs.

His fingers slid through my wet pussy, and he went still for half a second. His breath caught quietly before his thumb settled against my clit.

The heat of his hand made me gasp immediately. His fingers were almost unnaturally warm against me, and the sensation was intense enough that my body reacted before I had time to think about it.

Then I realized how precise he was.

Of course he was.

Ronan touched me with the same complete concentration he brought to everything else. He paid attention to every change in my breathing and every small movement of my body, adjusting with deliberate care as though he intended to remember exactly what worked.

His thumb circled my clit once, and I gasped.

“That one,” he murmured.

One finger moved lower, sliding through how wet I was, and his breath caught beside my ear.

“And that.”

Then he pushed the finger inside me, and a soft whimper escaped me.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “I will replay them in my mind over and over.”

“Ronan,” I managed.

“I did warn you.”

He said it against my throat, and then he moved two fingers inside me in a way that made my knees give.

Ronan caught me immediately. He held me upright against the shelves with his body while his fingers continued moving inside me and his thumb worked steadily over my clit. His other hand braced against the shelf above my head with enough force to make the old wood creak.

The brand at his throat was glowing orange now, bright enough to cast a faint light across the line of his jaw. I could smell scorched skin.

I knew it had to hurt.

He didn’t stop.

He didn’t even slow down.

He kissed me while the oath burned him and spoke quietly against my skin while his hand continued moving between my legs. There was something almost frightening in the steadiness of his attention. He had decided to give me this, and once he had made that decision, the pain seemed to matter less to him than finishing what he had started.

“Ronan,” I gasped. “Ronan, I’m going to—”

“Yes.” His mouth brushed mine. “Let me hear it. That’s the one I want most.”

I came against the Heraldry shelves with my face pressed into his neck and his name breaking out of me. My whole body shook as I clenched around his fingers again and again. He made a rough, broken sound against my hair and held me through all of it, keeping me upright while the brand continued burning at his throat.

When it was over, he stayed close.