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She purses her lips in contemplation. “I like it longer.” She caresses her fingertips over my short beard. “I like this, too. It felt phenomenal when you were…you know.”
Her blush is so damn cute.
The curtains are still open, the almost full moon luminous in the night sky, its light casting an ethereal glow on Peyton’s sun-kissed skin.
Still intimately connected and not wanting to move anytime soon, I prop on my elbows and bracket her face with my hands.
“I love you, Peyton.”
Once the words came out of my mouth, I can’t seem to stop telling her.
There’s so much that still needs to be said, and I’m so damn grateful that I have the rest of my life to say them.
“You and Parker wanted me to live my dreams, but you, Tate Kingston,” she whispers, lifting up and kissing me ever so tenderly. “Aremy dream come true.”
As I gaze into the heart-stopping green eyes of the only woman I will ever love, I know for a fact that she is not onlymydream come true, she’s myeverything.
EPILOGUE: TWO YEARS LATER
PEYTON
Pulling up to the open garage bay at Randy’s Custom Auto, I let the engine idle as I enjoy the scene of my husband bent over the front of a Jeep Grand Cherokee. A hefty dose of lust shoots straight through my core as I stare at his gorgeously tight ass.
I’d spent the last three days in California with Knox and the team and just got back to town a few hours ago. I had a very important stop to make before I came here to surprise Tate. He wasn’t expecting me back until later this afternoon.
Tate and I didn’t wait long to get married and start building that perfect dream of sharing our lives together. Within two months of me coming home, he put his ring on my finger. Three months after that, I walked down the aisle and married the man I loved.
“Did you want to ride with us?” I ask Dad over the hands-free Bluetooth of the car connected to my cell phone.
We were going together as a family to visit Parker’s gravesite later. And I couldn’t wait to share the wonderful news with him and Mom. I reach over and touch the thin, long box I wrapped in gold foil paper.
The sound of chair legs scraping over linoleum filters over the line. He must be in his office.
“I should be able to get out of here by five. I’ll meet you there.”
“Sounds good. Love you.”
“Love you, too, peanut.”
Pressing the button on my steering wheel to hang up, I turn off the engine. Butterflies explode inside my stomach, which has nothing to do with the morning sickness I started having.
I splay a hand over my still-flat abdomen, and I ask our child growing inside there, “Ready to tell your daddy?”
I’d had suspicions that I was pregnant over the last week, but it wasn’t until yesterday morning in the hotel room when I was ‘praying to the porcelain gods,’ as they say, that it really hit home. Three over-the-counter pregnancy tests later—because I’m neurotic and wanted to make sure that I wasn’t imagining the positive results—confirmed what I already knew in my heart.
Like he can feel me, Tate’s head lifts and turns my way, and I swear, the smile that stretches across his face gives me a mini orgasm. Pregnancy hormones are the best—okay, not the throwing up parts of it.
He wipes his hands off on a towel and jogs over to where I’m parked, wrenching my car door open and lifting me out of my seat as soon as I unclip the seat belt.
Hungry lips meet mine, and our kiss explodes with fiery need. Three days is way too long to be away from him.
“God, I’ve missed the hell out of you,” he says gruffly, holding me tight.
With me still lifted in his arms, I snuggle into his embrace and breathe him in. Grease and oil mix with the sandalwood and citrus of his skin.
“I missed you more.”
He carries me around to the hood of the car and deposits me on it, then walks between my legs until my thighs grip either side of his waist. The heat from the engine warms my butt, but the way Tate looks at me sets me on fire.
