I threaded my fingers into his hair and enjoyed the friction of his beard against my skin, his hot mouth on my body.
He continued kissing me, devouring me, for a long time. Meanwhile, I felt stretched and twisted and worked and used, supple with lovemaking and the adoration of his eyes and hands and mouth.
Folding me in his arms and crushing me, as though he were afraid I’d leave him, he shook his head. I sensed he was about to speak, and I also guessed that what he had to say wasn’t what I most wanted to hear at this moment.
“I don’t regret what just happened,” I announced, “I loved it, and I love you, and I can’t wait to do it again. Don’t you dare say a single word to the contrary.”
Huffing a laugh and squeezing me tighter, he searched for my mouth. Finding it, he took my lips with a soul-searing kiss, shifting just an inch away to say, “Even if I wanted to, even if you wanted me to, I would never regret making love to you.” He kissed my nose and waited until my eyes met his. “But I’m afraid you’ll have to wait to do it again.”
A protest ripe on my tongue, he cut me off.
“Just two days, three at the most. And then we can do it whenever you like,” he kissed me again, “as often as you like,” he kissed me once more, “and wherever you like.”
I grinned and his hand slid from my hip to my breast, his thumb tracing a circle around the peak. God, I love his hands. I loved how he touched me.
“You promise?”
He nodded. “I promise.”
“Then prepare yourself, because we’re going to do it all the time. Until I’m an expert.”
“Then what happens?”
“Then we’ll do it even more.”
He chuckled, shaking his head, kissing me and sucking on my bottom lip like he couldn’t help himself. But then his smile waned as he drew away. It softened and his eyes sharpened.
“Jenn, if we’ve made a baby, then I won’t stop badgering you until you have me as your husband.” Achingly vulnerable, his tone was also solemn with promise.
I smoothed my hand over his chaotic curls. “I know. And I wouldn’t stop badgering you until you have me as your wife.”
“Do you want to be my wife?” His smile returned, but this time it was subdued, hopeful.
“More than anything.”
Cletus’s mercurial eyes moved between mine, his hand petting and stroking from my shoulder to my hip.
“Then marry me,” he whispered the command, his tone thick with passion and sincerity.
I stared at him, at this man, who had been so proud. Who was clever and powerful and good. All those months ago, when I’d pressured him into helping me, I never thought things would end this way.
I missed him. Even here with me now, I missed him. I wondered if I would ever stop.
“Yes,” I said simply, nodding, feeling the rightness of him and me and us to the marrow of my bones.
He didn’t speak. He just looked at me, like I’d hung the moon and designed the stars to match.
Tucking me against his body, his powerful legs tangling with mine, Cletus lay perfectly still, and so did I, living in the moment. After a time, the weight of my happiness exhausted me, and I grew drowsy. My eyes drifted shut.
But I thought I heard Cletus whisper against my ear, just before I succumbed to sleep, “This is just the beginning.”
The End