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I laughed as I pulled my shirt off, flung it aside, and then jumped up on the bed to take my shorts off. I did a twirl and what I hoped was a sexy shimmy, pleased to see the lust on his slack-jawed face when I lowered myself on top of him.
“I give up,” he said, reaching for my hips. “I have to touch you. You’re too fucking hot.”
That was perfectly fine with me as I slid my body back and forth against him, drawing out our pleasure before I gave in to what we both needed so badly. I leaned over, planted my hands on his shoulders, and let my hair fall across his face. His hands moved down my hips to push my thighs further apart, and his fingers found my swollen nub.
He chuckled at my gasp. “Your turn,” he said.
I wrapped my hand around his cock and guided him home, sliding down hard and reveling in the feel of him filling me. We moved together in long slow strokes, his hands guiding my hips as I rode him. He urged me with his fingertips to come, but I held on. I wanted to remember everything. His smooth, warm skin, his soapy scent mixed with hints of coffee, and the crisp sheets slid under my knees. The way his lips curled up when he knew I couldn’t hold on another second.
“Go ahead,” he told me. “I’ll catch up.”
He drew my head down to kiss me, and I let go. Bliss washed over me in waves, making me drag my lips from his so I could bite down on his shoulder to keep from shouting. He bounced me hard and fast as I pulsed around him, and seconds later, he buried his face in my neck to smother his own sounds.
He wrapped his arms around me and held me tight to him, breathing harshly against my neck. Our hearts hammered against each other, slowly settling into a normal rhythm. With a soft sigh, I let my arms and legs go limp and rolled off him. As if he didn’t want an inch of space between us for even a moment, he quickly pulled me to him again. I wrangled his arm under my head and settled in against his chest.
I tangled my legs up with his and closed my eyes. Contentment. That odd feeling crept over me as he ran his hand idly up and down my arm. Tired, but in a good way, like after a tough workout. Not exhausted and frazzled. For the first time in weeks, I wasn’t worried about a damn thing.
How long until the regret set in? Until I questioned everything? Until we were freezing each other out again? I didn’t want any of that and instinctively snuggled closer, held on tighter.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice a pleasing rumble at the top of my head.
“Better than okay.”
“Really?” he asked incredulously.
I sighed. I supposed I’d been a nightmare after every one of these perfect moments, ruining everything. Not this time. I was going with the flow. Not stressing. Everything would be fine. I hoped.
“Really,” I told him.
He untangled himself and eased a pillow under my head in place of his arm. I tried not to feel sad that he was going to sleep in another room for the rest of the night, but I would have loved to stay in his arms until morning and beyond.
He rolled out of bed and reached for his discarded jeans, but instead of putting them on, he pulled something out of his pocket and held it in his closed fist when he got back on the bed. Pulling the sheet over him, he looked down at me for a long time in silence, finally opening his mouth to speak.
“I love you.”
I sat up. “What?” I couldn’t have heard him right. Or I’d fallen asleep and was dreaming.
A rueful smile crossed his handsome face. “I love you, Sunshine. I thought about it for a long time because, for a while, it seemed like you weren’t sure. Or maybe you thought I wasn’t sure.”
I put my hand on his chest to stop his nervous rambling. “I’m sure. I was sure a while ago. When you admitted the truth about the kidnappers.”
He gaped at me. “That made you decide you were sure? Maybe you’ll fit in just fine after all.”
“No,” I said. “I mean, I hope so if that’s what you want. It was because you stopped keeping secrets and told me the truth. That’s what’s important to me, not what you do or don’t do.”
He nodded. “No more secrets. And I’ll never lie to you.” He leaned over and kissed me, his hand trailing down to my stomach. “None of this was a mistake. Even the fact we didn’t conceive our first baby the traditional way. We can do that for the rest of them. If you want more.”
More children? “What do you mean?” I asked. What was happening here?
He opened his hand to reveal a beautiful vintage diamond ring with a shining gold band and a big square diamond with two smaller diamonds on each side. “It was my mother’s. It needs a bit of polishing, but I really want it on your finger if you agree to marry me. I probably need a bit of polishing, too, but I’ll do whatever it takes to make you happy, Sunshine.”
A tear slid down my cheek, not from baby hormones or fear or frustration. This time it was pure and utter joy. I held out my hand, and he slid it on when I said yes.
“You do make me happy, and you’re fine the way you are,” I told him, staring at it, touched that he was giving me his mother’s ring. “I know there are many things I have to get used to, but I think I can if you keep being patient with me.”
“Of course,” he said, then scowled. “Wait. I’m fine? Just fine and not perfect?”
He was teasing me, and I loved it. I couldn’t wait for a lifetime full of it. Laughing, I pushed him back down on the bed and snuggled up to him again, holding out my hand to admire the ring on my finger.
