Beckett lifted his head to kiss her, and Penelope welcomed it. She could scarcely believe this was happening, but she would not look back.

He rocked his hips into her while their tongues clashed, and she fell forward, feeling all of him. She groaned into his mouth as he finished stripping her, his hands desperately trying to touch every inch of skin. It felt like she was being sculpted, being worshiped.

Meanwhile, Penelope's hands fell to Beckett's chest. She dug her nails into his hard muscles, loving how they tensed beneath her touch.

Beckett fell back into the chair again, leaving her to feel bare and empty without his kisses and her clothes. Heat from the fireplace licked over her, and Penelope watched the shadow of flames dance across Beckett's taut expression. His jaw was rigid, but his eyes were something else. Most of the room had grown dark, but the fire ensured Penelope could see all of the colonel. And that he could see all of her.

Beckett appreciated Penelope with his gaze, taking in the sight of her naked. As if he knew she was fighting the urge to cover herself, Beckett took both of her wrists and pinned them to either side of him on the armrest.

"Let me touch you," she pleaded, wiggling in his lap.

He ignored her, eyes dropping down her body until they settled between her legs, where she ached terribly.

Beckett's eyes darkened. "You are dripping on my trousers, Lady Hutton."

A flush worked over Penelope; she felt tingles rise to her skin, warming her. But it was not in embarrassment. It was more of that delicious need, want...lust.

"I think I should touch you first," he said, his voice incredibly even considering how quickly his chest rose and fell. "Before we make more of a mess."

Slowly he released one of her wrists and dragged his palm down her chest and stomach until he reached the apex of her thighs. He used a single finger to trace between her legs first, light enough that it drove Penelope mad. She cried his name while bucking her hips, trying to get what she wanted.

He merely flashed a wicked smile. "You wish for more, love?"

She nodded eagerly, and Beckett obliged, pressing down on that spot that made her see stars. Beautiful, bright stars. The hot desire pumping through her veins reared up, creating a fire in her depths as he played with her in such a perfect way.

No one had ever taken this much time with her. Now that she knew what it felt like to be desired, she wondered if anyone had ever really wanted her before.

Beckett plunged one finger inside, causing Penelope to dig her fingers into the arms of the chair. But then, to her annoyance, Beckett's touch vanished.

"Do you wish to come?" he asked, the brilliance of his eyes searing into her.

She leaned toward him, raking her hand up his chest again. "Please, Beckett."

"Then you must promise me something," he whispered, meeting her for a quick kiss. "You'll have to come again. I need to feel that around my cock tonight, darling. I've been dying for it."

Penelope gasped from the heat that suddenly surged inside her from his crude language. Beckett was showing a side she hadn't known about, and she...lord, she enjoyed it immensely. Likely too much, and she should be ashamed. But she couldn't, not tonight.

"I do not know if I can promise that," she said truthfully. There had been many times that she had not reached completion during intimacy. The corners of her mouth quirked up. "I do believe you are the one who needs to see to that."

Stark lust and determination flashed in Beckett's eyes as he began to stroke her again. His movements were more purposeful now, intent on making Penelope fall apart. And he did. God, he did. She was so wound up that all it took was several brushes of his fingertip followed by a slight pinch, and Penelope unraveled in his lap.

"Look at that," Beckett murmured, watched. He dropped his gaze. "We made even more of a mess anyway."

Penelope could not respond, could not even blush at his statement. She was still reeling and had not even stopped shaking when Beckett scooped her off her feet, carrying her to bed. He was not gentle as he deposited her on the mattress, but Penelope once again felt a thrill at his roughness. It highlighted how similar his desire was to hers, how fierce it was. 

Standing before her, Beckett grabbed the back of his shirt and dragged it over his head. Penelope hadn't been able to sit back and appreciate him the last time he was shirtless before her, but she took advantage of the opportunity now. He was all sculpted and gorgeous. Thick, corded muscles covered his body. Beckett was the type of man who belonged in one of her books, and Penelope half-wondered if she were submersed in a fantasy.

His mouth kicked up at the corner when he caught her staring.

"The appreciation is mutual, darling," he murmured. "Trust me." To demonstrate, he swept his gaze over her as she waited on the bed, naked. "I feel as though I am the luckiest man on earth."

"Beckett, stop," she protested, suddenly self-conscious about how he was staring. "You do not need to say such things."

He did not need to be flowery on her account. She knew what this was; she knew it did not extend beyond a physical desire on his part.

"Yes, I do." His argument was immediate. "You need to know how damned perfect you are. And how much I want you, Penelope."

She opened her mouth to declare otherwise, but Beckett was quicker in dropping his trousers, and she suddenly faced the evidence of his claims. Her mouth watered as he fisted his hard length, and Penelope clamped her legs together to fight the eagerness flooding her body.

"I want you too," she whispered, hoping it might quicken the process.

Beckett seemed to enjoy hearing that, his expression growing cocky as he climbed onto the bed atop her. She breathed his name, reaching to pull him down to her. He followed her guidance and kissed her slowly, tenderly. His body shook above her, but his mouth stayed sweet as it roved over Penelope's.

When he started to trickle kisses down her neck, Penelope rested against the pillows, letting him. She arched, bringing the length of her body flush with his, and Beckett groaned loudly, his entire brooding, masculine body tensing.

"Shit." He sucked in a breath. "This is—"

"A bad idea?" Penelope supplied for him, having been waiting for Beckett to say it. He always did. "I wondered when you would protest, bring up how we should not be doing this."

"Incredible," Beckett growled into her neck. She heard the bite in the word, and it sent a shiver through her. "This is incredible, Penelope. And I do not give a damn if we should be doing it or not. We're doing it."

She bit down on a grin and ran her hands over his back muscles, enjoying how they flexed beneath her palms. "Yes," she urged. "Yes, Beckett."

"Yes," he repeated before kissing her hard, his palm cupping her face roughly as he ravished her mouth, plunging and taking her breath away.

The kisses continued as Beckett's hands fell to her hips, lifting them until Penelope was wrapped around him, and he was poised between her legs. His delicious weight pressed into her, probing Penelope until she dug her fingers into his back to urge him on. She wanted this. She wanted him.

With a single thrust, Beckett buried himself within her before stilling. Beckett was hot and hard, filling Penelope completely. It was such an utterly brilliant sensation, heady and blissful.

"Penelope," he groaned. His body shook, and for a moment, she wondered if that single thrust was all it took. But then she realized that the tremors beneath her fingers were from restraint.

"Are you holding back?" she gasped. She tipped her hips up, eager for more.

"I am—" He choked on his words, dropping his head to hers and closing his eyes. "Jesus Christ, Penelope. I am trying to be gentle."

She lifted her head, finding his ear and nipping at it as she spoke in a low voice. "I thought you were not a gentleman."

Beckett released a guttural curse as he pumped his hips, rocking into her again—this time with more force. She cried out, and then she cried again as Beckett bucked into her once more, this time wildly. Like he'd had a taste and now could not get enough. He hit her deep, lighting something up within her.

"I'm not," he groaned. "And for tonight, you are no lady. You are simply mine to fuck."

Penelope's breath hitched before a moan broke from her lips. Beckett continued to thrust, and his hands—those large, calloused hands—found hers, lifting her arms above her head, anchoring them there as he intertwined their fingers. He pressed her further into the mattress, and while Penelope should feel trapped considering Beckett's size and the cage he'd made with his body, she reveled in his power. She had never felt safer.

Their eyes met as Beckett continued drilling into her, and Penelope's grip tightened around his waist. It brought her up to a new angle, one where Beckett's cock was brushing against a spot within her that made sparks fly in her vision. She gripped his hands tighter, her mouth flying open even though she had no comprehensible words to say.

Except for his name. All she could say was his name.

"That's it, love," he urged, eyes dancing. "That's it."

Penelope began rocking her hips in time with his, meeting him thrust for thrust. A wildness came over her, one she did not recognize. But God...

"Fuck, Penelope," Beckett grunted. "I want to feel you."

She gasped, throwing her head back against the pillows as that familiar sweet tightening snuck up on her. Only this time, it was stronger. The pressure was so intense that Penelope could not withhold her cries, releasing them into the night. And when the pressure finally released...she screamed.

Beckett quickly covered her mouth with his, moaning into her parted lips. The vibrations of their cries flooded inside her, and she drank them all. Barely two seconds later, Beckett was shuddering above her, gripping her tighter before he jerked out of her and finished on her stomach instead.

Penelope stared down at the mess, shocked. Beckett hovered over her as they both gasped for air. He muttered a string of curses before climbing from the bed, causing Penelope to immediately ache in his absence. But he returned only a moment later with a washcloth, intent on cleaning her.

She let him, too tired and drained to do anything but lie there. Her entire body pulsed with sated bliss, but her mind was stirring.

Would he leave? Every other time they had come together, Beckett had walked away afterward. And Penelope thought that if he did that tonight...it might break her somehow.

But after Beckett finished his task, he returned to bed. He slipped beneath the covers, pulling Penelope with him. He was silent, but he did not leave. His grip stayed firmly on her hip as he dragged her into him.

Penelope smiled into her pillow.

"What now?" she whispered.

Beckett grunted. "Now we sleep."

"But..." Penelope fought the urge to ask more questions, wanting to know if this night was all that was on the table. Because if so, she was not certain she even wanted to sleep. She did not want it to end.

Despite her not asking the question, Beckett heard it. He sighed heavily.

"Do you not want me in your bed, Penelope?" he spoke soothingly, his palm spreading over her backside in slow strokes.

"No, that is—that is not it at all."

It was challenging to have a conversation when he touched her like that.

"Good." Beckett squeezed her side. "Then in the evenings, this is where you shall find me from now on."

Something fluttered within her. Not just tonight. He was promising more than tonight.

But her elation stopped short at one thought.

"Griffin cannot know," she said. "He will not be pleased."

There was no use battling her brother on this when it would likely all be over within a fortnight.

Another exhale brushed over her skin.

"Griffin will not know," Beckett agreed. "Now sleep, my lady."

That flutter—it happened again.

"Goodnight, Colonel."

Penelope snuggled into the bed, watching the stars twinkle through her opened window, the breeze blowing the curtains wild.

Only after Beckett began to snore lightly did she fall asleep.