“I’ve got you,” he groaned, thrusts turning frantic, desperate. “Come with me.”
The climax ripped through me, violent and sweet all at once, my cries muffled against his shoulder as I convulsed around him. He followed with a guttural sound, burying himself deep as he shuddered and released, his whole body taut above me.
We collapsed together in a tangle of sweat and heat, hearts pounding. He didn’t let go, not for a second. His arms caged me in, holding me close, as if he let go, I’d slip away again.
I brushed a hand through his damp hair, kissing his temple softly. “You don’t have to hold on so tight.”
“Yes, I do,” he whispered fiercely, voice rough with emotion. “Because this time, you’re never leaving.”
I smiled, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. “This time, I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”
And in the quiet of that long-waiting bedroom, wrapped in Lincoln’s arms, I knew it was true.
EPILOGUE
LINC
Istumbled over the threshold of the house and wanted to curl up right there on the floor instead of crawling into bed. My arms ached clear to the bone, my back burned from hours hunched under floodlights, and I could still feel the freezing wind threaded through every joint like it had taken up residence inside me. It had been one of those nights where the world shrank to breath, frost, and the sound of hooves hitting packed snow.
“You’ve been out there too long,” her sweet voice said from the hallway. The light behind her made her hair shine soft and gold, messy from sleep but still the prettiest thing I had ever seen.
As if she could read my mind, she reached up and unzipped my jacket. The sound was small but final, like the night giving up its hold. She shoved the heavy thing off my shoulders, and it hit the floor with a soft thud. She plucked my hat off, brushed the brim with her thumb, and hung it on the hook where it always went.
“Boots,” she ordered gently, crouching in front of me as she held them steady so I could pull my feet out. Her voice carriedthat note she only used when I was too tired to argue, calm but firm, the kind that could settle a skittish colt or a worn-out man.
“I don’t need help. I can take my clothes off myself,” I grumbled, even as she unhooked the overall straps for me. My voice came out rough, barely more than gravel.
“That’s not what you said last night,” she teased, that crooked smile breaking through her tiredness. The Carhartts puddled to the floor, and I stepped out of them, trying not to smile but failing anyway.
“If I wasn’t so tired, I’d let you unbutton my pants and you could stay on your knees.” The words came out lazy and low, more habit than heat. Truth was, all I wanted right now was a pillow and the weight of her beside me.
“Come on, cowboy. Let’s get you to bed.”
She slid an arm around my waist, and I slung mine over her shoulders. “Why are you up?” I asked, letting her lead me down the hall.
“The bed was cold,” she said, steadying me with more strength than she looked like she had. Her head came just under my chin. She smelled like soap and coffee and the faintest trace of the vanilla lotion she never remembered to put away.
“Griff take over for you?” she asked as we passed the kitchen. The clock on the stove glowed two-thirty. Calving season never cared what time it was.
“Yeah, but we had to pull four calves off the heifers, so I stuck around to help him. All seem to be bred by the same bull.”
“You’re going to have to pull that bull from the rotation of heifers. You’ve pulled way too many this year. Obviously, it’s not a calving bull, throwing big calves like that.” She knew animals; it didn’t matter if they were cows, horses, or goats. Kristin was smart, and she had a head for ranching.
“Oh, it’s going down the road in the morning,” I muttered. “We’re not dealing with those genetics another year.”
“Good plan,” she said, her voice softening now that the worst of my stubbornness had bled out. “Okay, time to sleep.”
If I hadn’t known any better, I’d have sworn she pushed me into bed. The mattress dipped under my weight, and the flannel sheets felt like heaven.
“No. If I forget, remind me to tell Kipp that bull has to go.” The bed dipped beside me, and the blankets slid up over my body. I caught the smell of fresh laundry, a faint trace of cedar from the dresser drawer where she kept the extra quilts.
“I’ll tell him myself,” she said, smoothing a hand down my arm. “You don’t have to worry about it. Please just go to sleep.”
“Come here.” I held out my arm, and it felt like it had taken every last ounce of effort I had. She crawled over and curled up against my side, the same way she always had, like she fit there and nowhere else. My hand found her back, warm and small under my palm. Her skin was soft through the fabric of her sleep shirt, and the steady rhythm of her breathing pressed calm into me.
“Are you feeling okay?” I asked, suddenly realizing I needed to check on her the way she always checked on me.
“Tired but fine,” she murmured. “It’s normal, and no, we can’t tell anyone yet.”
