“‘Ask me to your bed,’ he said, breathless, hands on my arms. ‘I shall come to ye. For that matter—I shall come, whether ye ask it or no. But remember, Sassenach—I am your man; I serve ye as I will.’
‘Do,’ I said. ‘Please do. Jamie, I want you so!’
He seized my arse in both hands, hard enough to leave bruises, and I arched up into him, grasping, hands sliding on his sweat-slick skin.
‘God, Claire, I need ye!’
Rain was roaring on the tin roof now, and lightning struck close by, blue-white and sharp with ozone. We rode it together, forked and light-blind, breathless, and the thunder rolled through our bones.”
