She can’t stop laughing to herself, but mercifully, she changes the subject. We talk about the auction, about Ella, about Cash. About the changing seasons and what the next year will bring. We spend the rest of the morning in the kitchen and I help her serve the pot pies before she heads back to her house.

Upstairs, I lay Ella down for a nap and close the nursery. When I get back to the bedroom, I find my husband washing up. He steps out of the bathroom, shirtless, drying his arms and chest with a towel.

“I want a more discreet collar,” I say.

His face doesn’t change. “Why?”

“Maddie knows what it is.”

He laughs softly, tossing the towel into the dirty laundry. “Maddie doesn’t give a fuck what we do in our own time. Neither does anyone else. And no one will bring it up to me.”

“Gerard—”

“That’s sir to you, redbird,” he says gently.

With those few words, in his deep voice, my entire body relaxes. He’s right, I know he is and I trust him. Nobody cares what we do together when the doors are shut.

This safe world belongs only to us.

He takes a step closer. The sound of his boots flips the submissive switch in my head. My eyes rake over the hard ridges of his abdominal muscles, up over the sightless eyes of the tattooed bull skull. Then he picks me up, wrapping my legs around his waist.

I dig my fingernails into his chest. Giving him a little taste of the pain he likes to dish out. He spills me onto my back on the bed. Then his hands move down and start unfastening his belt.

My toes curl. Oh God, there’s nothing like the sound of his belt coming undone. I shift my thighs together—I’m already wet.

His eyes flash. “It’s time.”

He doesn’t need to explain what he means. I already know. We took a break to adjust to our new lives and let me heal. But it’s been four months and we’ve already slept together countless times.

We’re both ready.

“Maddie said she’d take the kids tonight,” I gasp.

He nods. “I’ll take her up on that.”

“I’ll go let her know.”

“No, I want you before we eat,” he says, not leaving room for protest.

Before I can reply, he shoves down the front of his pants and his cock is rock hard. Glittering with arousal at the tip. I push myself up on my elbows, but he’s over me in second. Hand on my throat, spitting into his other palm. My eyes roll back as he rubs it over my sex. Then he lifts me further up the bed and reaches between us.

Oh God, I’m shattering.

He fills me, slowly. Giving me his cock inch by inch, so I can adjust as it slides into my pussy. My eyes roll back and the only sound that slips from between my lips is a strangled whimper. He growls softly, slamming his hips into me.

“Take it, redbird,” he orders.

He draws back and thrusts hard. The bed hits the wall, just as it did the first time he fucked me.

This is what he does to me, this is the place he brings me. One moment, I’m wound tight, and the next I’m limp, riding a wave of thoughtless pleasure.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

I can define my life in rhythms. The changing of the seasons. The rotation of the fields. The heavy beat of my bed hitting the wall. Like a train moving down the tracks, steel wheels pounding in a slow drumbeat. Going faster and faster, finally out of the darkness.

We’re a swift train heading to a brilliant future. And this time, whatever is ahead, I never have to face it alone.

THE END

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