He stepped to the side of the bed, pushing her sweat-slicked hair off her cheek. “What, baby, tell me what you need?”

She opened her eyes, meeting his gaze through her haze of pleasure. “I need you.”

The smile that crossed his face nearly broke her open. He untied her wrists, rubbing the feeling back into her hands, but left her feet tied wide. Then he was behind her, slipping the toys from her and kissing the welts on her back. “You are so beautiful, Charlotte. So goddamned tough and beautiful.”

Each kiss sent a shiver through her, the pain completely replaced with the sweet heat of adrenaline-laced bliss. She could barely lift her head. He draped himself over her back, supporting himself on his forearms, and pressed the head of his cock against her swollen entrance. “I’d turn you over to see that pretty face, but I don’t want to put the pressure on your marks.”

She angled her hips, pressing back against him, unable to bear another moment without him inside her. “Just take me like this. Please.”

“You got it, love.” He pushed forward, his cock hot and heavy inside her, and she let loose a sigh. She would’ve stayed tied up all night as long as she knew this was waiting for her at the end of it. He rocked his pelvis back then eased into her again, his breath spilling onto her neck. “God, you feel good, darlin’. Am I crushing you?”

“No, I like it.” And she did. His body was heavy against hers, her lungs unable to fully inflate, but the feeling of being so completely overpowered by him had her drifting deep under the spell of the moment.

A low growl rumbled from him, and he canted his hips harder, claiming her with more ferocity, more speed. “You know what it does to me when you get like this, when I can actually feel your total surrender?”

Her breasts pressed into the bed, the rhythm of his motion scraping her nipples across the sheet and coiling her muscles again. Sparks seemed to light up every abused zone in her nervous system—sizzling and popping. Climax galloped toward her again.

She wasn’t sure she’d survive this one.

Grant pumped into her, his own control slipping as his thighs slapped against the back of hers. “Come with me one more time, Charli.”

That was all it took. She was sailing over again, gentle tremors rolling over her exhausted body, a quiet fall into oblivion. Her tears dampened the sheet, and Grant’s own moan rattled out of him, his hot release jetting into her and his fingers lacing with hers.

Lost. Together. Perfect.

Finally, when she drifted back into the present, became aware of her surroundings again, Grant slipped out of her, untied her ankles, and carried her into the bathroom.

No words were exchanged as he drew her bath and then gently cleaned her—washing her hair and soothing her tender skin, combing out her knots and slipping her into a soft cotton nightgown. His quiet care allowed her mind to slowly pull itself back together, to ease to the surface again.

When they finally climbed into his bed—no, their bed—Grant gathered her against him and pressed a soft kiss to her mouth. “I love you, Charli Beaumonde. Nothing in my life has ever felt as right as you do.”

She smiled, closing her eyes and snuggling against him. For the first time in as long as she could remember, she didn’t have to worry about being second best. She was happy.

She was his.