Page 99 of True North

“Come on, Lou. Show me what your stunning face looks like when it falls apart.”

I rise, and he lines his fat tip up with my entrance. Still, even after being nailed to the wall, he’s too big. His chest rises and plummets as I sink a little way.

Jaw clenched, his hands snap to my hips. “Sweet Jesus, woman.” The words are no more than a low growl.

Heavens, this man.

I pause, only an inch or so onto him.

The stretch is everything.

Harry is everything.

I want to sink so low there is no way to tell where I start and he ends. So we can no longer be pulled apart. Leaving no possible way for life to separate us ever again.

I need this man in the worst way.

He leans forward, clamping a nipple between his teeth, and I have no control over the way my body sinks onto his. His raw rumble fills me up, taking over my soul, shredding it and ravaging every morsel of self-doubt, every sliver of uncertainty over where I belong.

His grip turns feral, bruising when I take up the rhythm between us. Lips parted on threadbare breath, I search the face of the man in front of me as it falls to pieces. His face tugs into something so desperate that catches me off guard so badly, emotion flares behind my eyes, flaring my breathing hot and fast.

Nope, I can feel whatever this undertow is, but I am steering this ship. I close my eyes, forcing my emotion into something I can give.

I cant my hips, taking him deeper, and his head falls back, hitting the headboard. Delight courses through my veins at the thought of turning this burly, stoic man to putty.

I love it.

Leaning down, I dust hot, wet kisses over his collarbones, tracking them upward, laying a trail up his throat as it works under the touch of my lips. I nip his jaw as I rise.

I plummet back down, claiming his mouth.

He thrusts up, and I can’t help the whimper that spills out. He devours the sound, pushing off the headboard. Hands gripping my face, he sends his hips up, thrusting hard as I rock my hips.

Deep blue eyes burn into my own as he sends me spiraling, thrusting so deep. Again and again.

“Harry,” I whisper, hands planted on his chest.

“Yeah, darlin’,” he rasps.

“Where have you been all my life?”

A choked chuckle tumbles from his face before it twists into something tortured. His breathing disintegrates into choppy bursts. His hands grip down hard on my hips, and I still over him, eyes searching his.

Briefly closing his eyes, he says, “Waiting right here for you to find your way home.”

He thumbs my cheek, moisture coating his fingertips. I didn’t realize I let the tears slip. He kisses me hard, and I break apart in his hold. But when he leans back and his brows fall, I wait for the next Harry Rawlins revelation I know will blow me away.

And he does when he says, “You never left this man any other choice, Louisa May.”

In this moment, I wish I could change the last ten years. Take it all back. Stay rooted to the spot that night he dropped on one knee. What I wouldn’t give to take back all the hurt I caused him. The long, lonely years he lived through.

“No.” He runs a hand through my hair. “I can see those cogs turnin’. Don’t you dare feel bad for having a life. I wanted that for you, still do.”

“I—”

His brows rise, as he dips his head as if reminding me to choose my words.

“I don’t deserve you,” I finally breathe.

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