“Lachlan,” I breathe. I run my touch down the ink that covers his arm until I grip his bicep. “Please.”

He pulls away just enough to stare down at me, his eyes dark and serious. “Tell me who I am.”

A crease flickers between my brows as I try to work out what he means. “Lachlan Kane,” I say, smoothing my hand up the tense muscles in his arm. My reply doesn’t seem to satisfy him. “My husband.” The relief in his eyes is instantaneous. He nods once. I lay my hand to the side of his face. “You’re my husband.”

“And you’re my wife. Don’t forget it when I’m fucking you like a whore.” He holds my gaze as he moves down my body and slips the ice into his mouth. And then he descends between my legs. He keeps the ice beneath his tongue as he sucks on my clit, swirling his caress over the sensitive nerves. The mix of cold and warm has me squirming. Desperate. My breath comes in pants. Lachlan pulls the ice from between his lips and rolls it over my clit as he thrusts his tongue into my pussy. I shudder as I near release, then he switches, rolling the ice over my pussy, his tongue over my bud of nerves. When the sensation becomes overwhelming and I buck from the couch, he pushes my stomach down with a flat hand and holds me there. There’s no getting away. And I don’t want to. He drives up the pleasure until I’m ready to unravel.

And then with a motion so sudden I barely have time to process it, he flips me over. He enters me with one swift stroke that has me gasping. I’d been so consumed by pleasure I didn’t even realize he’d undone his belt or lowered his jeans and briefs, and now his cock is buried as deep as he can go, his hips pressed against my ass, his body shuddering behind me. He thrusts into me again to the sound of my shameless moan. And then he picks up a rhythm, one that starts with long, slow strokes. He runs the ice up my spine as he grips my hip with his other hand.

“So fucking perfect,” Lachlan says as he gives my ass a gentle slap. When I cry out with need he does it again and then soothes my skin with a gentle caress. He separates my ass cheeks and groans. “That fucking perfect ass. That tight little hole.” The ice slides down my ass crack and I swear under my breath as he runs it across the pleated rim. “You’re mine, duchess. Every curse. Every moan. Every scream. Mine. My wife. Understand?”

I nod. “Yes.”

“And I’m yours.”

“Yes,” I whisper.

There’s a droplet of warmth as he spits on my ass. Lachlan runs the ice through it and around the rim of the hole, never breaking the cadence of his thrusts. When it’s coated in a mix of water and saliva, he gently pushes his finger inside.

“Oh my God,” I hiss as the new but familiar sensation adds to the fullness of his length in my pussy.

“Husband,” he corrects as he buries his cock to the hilt and leans over me to lay a quick bite on my shoulder. He passes me the ice cube before he straightens behind me. He pushes a second finger into my ass and I tremble beneath him. “Use that ice and come on my cock, duchess. And I want to hear you fall apart with my name on your lips.”

I guide what remains of the ice to my clit and shudder with the burst of sensation. And then Lachlan picks up his rhythm, the thrusts harder, the pace faster, his fingers pumping in their own tempo. I chant his name. I lose my mind. My thoughts unspool until I’m only sensation. All I can feel is the way he stretches me. The way his cock passes over the flesh that clenches around him. The cold caress on my clit. The strain of my throat as I call out his name. And then it starts, the burst of pleasure that erupts in my core. My muscles tense. My back bows. My heart roars in my ears and dampens the sound of Lachlan’s moan as he releases inside me. I press my eyes closed and stars flood my vision and I unravel, trembling, covered in a thin film of sweat. And when I think it might never end, the orgasm starts to subside and leaves me little more than a boneless, breathless mess.

Lachlan takes a long moment to let us both come down, time that he takes to run his free hand across my back in a gentle caress. But when I shiver, he starts to pull out of me, first his fingers, then his cock. It’s a slow motion, as though he’s still savoring every sensation. And when his cock is free, he separates my ass cheeks to admire the mess of his cum with a low growl.

“I think you should just not shower before we go tonight,” he says as he slides a finger across my entrance to gather the cum. He pushes it into my ass and I whimper with the slow glide of his finger.

“I think that Conor would probably appreciate if I don’t smell like sex in the cramped van.”

More cum is pushed into the tight hole and I try to suppress the growing desire already building in my core. “I couldn’t care less what Conor thinks.” With one more stroke of his finger, Lachlan’s touch then disappears. “But you’re probably right. And I need everyone on their game tonight, especially if you insist on being there.”

Lachlan shifts off the couch and gives me a dark look before he heads to the kitchen to wash his hands.

“And I do insist on being there, by the way,” I say, and Lachlan shakes his head, the resignation weighing on his shoulders as he stands at the sink. “So if you’re hoping you were going to fuck me into submission, it didn’t work.”

Lachlan laughs and turns to face me as he dries his hands. “I had no illusions about that, duchess.” He walks toward me where I sit on the couch, my legs gathered beneath me, my body still shimmering with a glow of sweat. He doesn’t stop until he’s right in front of me, and then he leans down to press a kiss to my forehead. “You’re stubborn,” he says as he pulls away. “It’s one of the things I love about you. Now let’s get moving. We only have a couple of hours.”

With a worried smile, Lachlan leaves me for the kitchen to start dinner while I gather my things and have a shower. When I come out, dinner is ready, and we talk about Stan, and his vault, and everything we have to do next. And within another hour, we’re heading to Conor’s garage, where we leave the Charger and exchange it for his van, the three of us silent as we drive into the night.

We roll to a stop within sight of the medical examiner’s office, an austere redbrick building. There are only four cars in the parking lot, a benefit of the late hour. Lachlan throws the van into park and we both turn around in our seats to watch as Conor types commands on his laptop in the back of the vehicle.

“I’ll wait to trigger the fire alarm when you’re ready at the emergency door on the north side of the building. The standard response time of the fire department is only five minutes and twenty seconds,” Conor says without taking his eyes from his work. “I’ll disable the automatic emergency call from the alarm, but any more than ten minutes will start raising questions from security, so you’ll need to work fast. You remember where you’re going?”

“Cooler two, east side of the building.”

“Perfect.”

“You’re sure this is going to work?” I ask, hoping that I don’t sound too eager to bow out of this clearly insane plan to break into the medical examiner’s office.

“It’s the best shot we’ve got. Stan’s home vault is top-of-the-line, nearly as good as Leander’s. If we want to get into his records fast, we’re going to need a bit of Stan to come with us.” Conor gives me a sympathetic cringe. “Otherwise, it could take me weeks to hack into it, if someone else doesn’t get in first.”

“Right …”

“Try to have fun, kids. You know what they say—couples who play together, stay together,” he says with a wink. Conor passes Lachlan a pair of earpieces before he returns to his laptop. “I’m ready when you are.”

Lachlan and I exchange a determined glance. As much as I try to appear confident, my stomach still twists uncomfortably. Lachlan can see right through me. His expression is grim as he positions his earpiece, a deep crease notched between his brows. “You sure about this, duchess? It’s not going to be pretty. I can do it myself.”