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Item by item, my clothes are peeled off. Warm, calloused hands worship my body, like Sebastian is committing every inch of me to memory. When I’m naked, he lets out a long breath that says more than words ever could.
We make love for the first time. This isn’t lust or sex or desire; it’s so much more. I wrap my arms and legs around him and kiss him, trying to convey the depth of my feelings. He kisses me back just as deeply, entering my body, joining us. Moving in sync, we say quiet words of love, trying to voice the intensity of the beautiful, radiant thing between us.
I love this man with my entire being. I love his temper, his protectiveness, his smirks. I love that one dimple that appears when he’s teasing me and he’s trying to hold back a grin. I love his hands, his callouses, his scars—even the invisible scars I gave to him. I love the way he kisses the freckles on my inner thigh like he’s missed the sight of them every time he’s reminded they exist.
“You’re beautiful,” he says gutturally. “So damn gorgeous, Georgia.” His movements become harder, heavier, and I feel release approaching.
“I love you,” I tell him, hands clasped on his face.
His hips punch into me, drawing a gasp from me. “Say it again.”
“I love you.”
He closes his eyes, reaching down to hook my leg higher on his hip, hitting me deeper with every stroke. “Georgia…” Sweat gathers on his temples as he exhales, dragging his lips along my neck, my jaw. “I love you so much, baby. So much. I’ve loved you since the first day I saw you. Never stopped.”
I didn’t know how much I needed to hear those words, spoken in that raspy voice full of need and passion, until Sebastian says them. He slows the movement of his hips, dragging out my pleasure until I’m a writhing, whimpering mess.
“You understand me?” he asks softly. “You understand what I feel for you?” He moves over me with tender, torturous movements, deeper than ever before.
“Yes. Yes.”
“Come for me and tell me you’re mine.” He reaches a hand between us, and at the first touch of my sensitive bud, I explode.
“I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours,” I chant like a mantra while pleasure crests and crashes. I say it a thousand times, until my voice is hoarse and my body is wrung out. Only then does Sebastian hook his arms around both my knees and spread me open to take his pleasure.
He orgasms with a guttural groan, my name on his lips, our love sealed.
I feel raw, like my ribcage has been cracked open and my organs have been scooped out. With my arms draped over his back, I hold Sebastian inside me and let my heartbeat return to normal. Hope blooms inside me. This is real, this thing between us. It’s not just sex. It’s more than physicality.
He wouldn’t try to push my dreams and desires aside. He wouldn’t try to do what he did when we were eighteen. If he wants his parents’ old house, it wouldn’t be the end of us. Sebastian understands how much I value my projects, my goals, my life.
Sebastian pants, his weight a delicious blanket on top of me. Then he shifts, propping himself on his elbows above me. His gaze flicks between my eyes, like he’s trying to read some hidden message. Apparently satisfied, he leans over—still inside me—and opens the top drawer of his nightstand. Rummaging around for a few seconds, he grunts when he finally finds what he’s looking for.
“What are you doing?” My voice sounds groggy, even to my ears. My limbs are pleasantly heavy, and I really wish he’d stop moving. Or start moving with more purpose.
“Something I should’ve done a long time ago.” Balanced on one elbow above me, Sebastian reaches down to thread the fingers of his right hand through my left. He brings my knuckles up to his lips and kisses them one by one, the same way he did just outside his bedroom door, and finally lifts his gaze to mine.
That’s when I notice his other hand. Clutched in his fingers is a ring—a ring I recognize. The tiny diamond cost eighteen-year-old Sebastian all of his hard-earned money, and he picked it especially for me. The simple gold band looks polished and shiny, as if he’s just had it cleaned after twenty-five years of keeping it hidden away.
My heart stops—then starts again. “Sebastian…”
“Marry me,” he demands.
I blink.
“You said you loved me. You said you were mine.” His eyes are intense. “Take my ring, Georgia, and marry me. I’ve been holding onto this ring for twenty-five years, and I didn’t know why until I saw you standing in front of my sculpture at the end of the Fringe Festival. You belong with me. By my side, Georgia. That’s where you should be, and we both know it.”
Myyesis on the tip of my tongue. Hasn’t today been proof that we belong together? He’s the sun that I orbit around. He makes my life brighter, worth living. I’ll never find something as intense with another man. I’ll never love anyone as much as I love him.
Then I remember what Christine told me, and horror rises inside me with shocking speed. From one moment to the next, I go from pleasure-drunk and pleasantly surprised to stiff and offended.
Why would he proposenow, if not to shackle me to him right before he goes back to Texas? Why rush into this unless he knew he was going to get his childhood home back?
You belong to me. By my side, Georgia. That’s where you should be, and we both know it.
Those aren’t the words of a man who wants to celebrate my wins and help me pursue my own goals. Those are the words of an overbearing caveman who wants me quiet and meek andby his side.
In a flash, I know exactly what happened: Christine told him she’d buy the old house back. Sebastian accepted. He saw me, claimed me, and decided that I’d be the perfect wife for his perfect little country life.
