Page 61 of The Outlaw and the Heir

Whoever told this man what should be said at a moment like this deserved a special prize. Pleasure soared to Heaven itself inside me and crashed down. My back arched, pushingmyself into him to feel him as deep as possible. My face pulled away from his arm as a real cry rose and was silenced when he unexpectedly crashed our mouths together.

Pleasure ricocheted through me, but even then, I found myself locked onto the feel of his mouth against mine. It was a clumsy, hungry thing, but it still held my attention as warmth splattered over me as I spilled onto my lap and hand.

A growl echoed from deep in his chest before he shoved himself in with one, two, three more thrusts and held there. A whimper escaped me as I felt his shaft jerk against my sensitive nerves, and a new warmth pooled inside me. He gasped against my lips, nipping and sucking as he held his hips tight against me, clearly trying to seed me as deep as he could before it was all over.

And when it was over, he let out another gasp, muscles going slack and he eased back. Ambrose slipped out of me with ease and gentleness on par with the same force and aggression he’d used to push into me. I was grateful because, despite the care he had taken to prepare me and the amount of oil he had used, I could still feel tenderness down there. It would become sore in the next couple of hours, and I didn't look forward to the ache that would follow as I worked the next couple of days but still couldn't find it in me to feel the slightest trace of regret.

"So," I began and then stopped when he bent down, hesitating for a moment, and kissed me again. It was still a little clumsy, but the hunger was gone, and there was a softness there I had not once come to expect from him, especially toward me.

Even more surprising was the immediate way I responded, reaching up to cup the back of his head and gently holding his mouth against mine. A pleasure I never would have dreamed could be directed at him filled me, making my chest flutter and a pleasant twist in my gut. It was the pleasure of waking up next to a familiar lover and watching the sunlight warm their face, ofwatching them laugh at something I said without realizing I was watching them, and of feeling their hand brush mine, perhaps taking it to squeeze quickly before we were seen but knowing the message was understood.

Then he pulled away, and I was left well-used and confused. There was an ache in my ass that I welcomed and understood and one in my chest that I understood but welcomed far less. The last thing I needed was to let myself catch feelings for the man who was my jailer. More importantly, a man who was as opposite to me as it got and had once found everything about me antithetical to his way of life.

"Sorry," he said, and God save me, he was sheepish, and it wasendearing. "That was?—"

"Better than your first time?" I asked, falling back on old habits and giving him a smirk. "At least, that's what you were saying before."

"Actually, yeah, it was," he admitted with a shrug. "Guess it's kinda hard to lie about that."

"Then I suppose that means you won't object to trying it again in the future...hopefully the near future," I said, giving him a wink.

"I suppose not."

"Really? Wow, I was expecting?—"

"What?"

"I don't know, more resistance. You were so against everything for a while there."

"Well," he said, reaching down to cup himself. "You've seen everything and felt everything, and so have I, so I guess there ain't much point in bein' fussy about it."

"That’s a very practical way of looking at it," I said, burying my surprise for his sake. I realized then I had half expected him to have a fit stronger than the first one now we had done the full deed. When faced with the reality that he’d slept with a man hecould once barely stand and who led a life completely opposed to his own standards and honor code, he should have been aware of how far this had gone and found it...unpleasant.

"Why do ya make it sound strange?" he asked, a familiar disconcerted frown spreading across his forehead.

I laughed at his worry, patting his leg in what I hoped came off as reassurance. "Calm down. It's not strange...well, a little, but I don't mean it as a judgment or a joke. I just?—"

Stopping, I realized I didn't have an explanation. Of course, there was always the truth, but I was far too used to avoiding the full and hard truth when dealing with other people, especially if I thought they wouldn't take it well. It came from not wanting to upset people as a matter of principle but also because when you're trying to survive, infuriating people is a good way to find your chances of survival plummeting.

Normally, I’d have some pithy comment or quick evasion of the truth ready, and I always had when it came to Ambrose. Maybe it was because my brain was still fuzzy from what we'd just done and how well he'd done, or maybe something else was escaping my attention. Either way, I found myself at a loss, unwilling to tell the truth and unable to find a way to avoid it.

"Just...what?" he asked, not sounding irritated or suspicious but...curious.

I sighed, knowing I didn't have the capacity to come up with something clever, and that left either dumbfounded silence or speaking the truth. "Well, considering how much difficulty you had accepting everything leading up to tonight, I expected a more emotional reaction from you. And get that look off your face. That wasn't a judgment. It was an acknowledgment, nothing more."

The grumpy expression was brought back a little but remained on his face. “Can ya blame me? I'm supposed to be responsible for you as...well?—"

"As your prisoner," I said dryly. "Tell the truth, shame the Devil."

He rolled his eyes. “That's awful rich comin' from you."

I grinned. “Well, I can't argue with you there."

"But yeah, as my prisoner. It just...felt wrong."

"Does it still?"

"Well, talkin' about it kinda makes it come back some, but not lately."

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