She raised her arms, letting me pull the hoodie over her head. Hair tumbled wild around her shoulders.
“Your turn,” she said, tugging at my shirt.
I helped her, grinning when it caught on my shoulders. “Impatient?”
“Very.” She smoothed her hands over my bare chest the second the fabric was gone, fingers exploring the familiar lines of muscle and scar.
We sank onto the bed together. She pushed me gently onto my back, then straddled my hips, settling her weight with a soft exhale that made my breath catch.
For a long moment we just looked at each other, breathing the same air.
Her left hand rested on my chest, right over my heart. The ring caught the lamplight. “Look at it,” she breathed, turning her hand slowly, watching the stone shift and sparkle. “It’s really there.”
I covered her hand with mine, fingers lacing through hers so the ring pressed between our palms.
“It’s really there,” I said, voice rough. “And it’s yours. You’re going to be my wife.”
She leaned down, kissed me slow and lingering, lips brushing mine like a vow. When she pulled back just enough to look at me, her eyes were glassy with happy tears.
“I never thought—” She swallowed, shook her head. “I never thought I’d get this. Not after everything.”
I lifted her hand to my mouth, kissed the ring softly, then each knuckle, then the inside of her wrist where her pulse fluttered fast and warm.
“You deserve this,” I said against her skin. “You deserve every gentle thing. Every promise.”
She smiled and lowered herself until our chests pressed together. I wrapped my arms around her, one hand sliding up her back, fingers threading into her hair, holding her close.
“I love how you feel,” she whispered, lips grazing my jaw. “Solid. Safe. Like nothing can touch us here.”
I kissed the corner of her mouth, then lower, tracing the line of her throat with slow, open-mouthed kisses. She shivered, fingers tightening in my hair.
“Tell me what you want,” I murmured against her collarbone.
“You,” she answered simply. “Just you. Slow. Like this.”
We moved together unhurriedly. She guided me inside her with a soft gasp, eyes never leaving mine. We both stilled for a heartbeat, just feeling the closeness, the heat, the quiet miracle of being wanted this way.
“God, Becca…” My voice cracked. “I’m gonna marry you.”
She started to move—gentle rolls of her hips, hands braced on my chest, the ring glinting every time she rose and fell. I watched her face—memorized the way her lashes fluttered, the way her lips parted on a soft sigh, the way her breath hitched when I lifted my hips to meet her deeper.
“Levi,” she whispered, voice breaking on my name. “Don’t stop loving me.”
“Never,” I promised.
I sat up slowly, arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her flush against me so we were chest to chest, foreheads touching. We rocked together like that, my hands roaming her back, her sides, learning every inch again like it was the first time.
“You’re trembling,” I murmured, kissing the sensitive spot below her ear.
“Because it’s you,” she breathed. “Because it’s us.”
I kissed her—deep, slow, tasting the salt of happy tears on her lips. My hand found hers again, fingers lacing tight, the ring cool between us.
We moved like that for what felt like forever, gentle and reverent, every thrust and sigh a quiet declaration.
When she came, it was soft and shattering, a quiet shudder that rolled through her whole body, her fingers tightening inmine, a broken little sound in her throat that made my heart ache with how much I loved her.
“Levi…” she gasped, clinging to me.
