Her laugh vibrates through me. “You’re insatiable.”
“Only for you.” I roll her beneath me, already feeling my cock stir again. “Only ever for you.”
Later—much later—we lie tangled in the dark.
The house is quiet. The stars are bright through the window. Somewhere in the distance, a coyote howls.
“Six months,” Delaney says softly.
“Six months to make this ranch untouchable.”
“We can do it.” She kisses my chest. Right over my heart. “We’ve got each other.”
I tighten my arms around her. Think about the patterns she mentioned. The irregularities she’s noticed. There’s something bigger happening—and LandCorp is involved somehow. I know it, she knows it. But that’s a fight for another day.
Tonight, I hold my wife. Count the ways we won. Think about the future we’re building.
Whatever comes next, we face it together.
That’s not hope anymore.
That’s certainty.
Chapter 17
Daniel
Three Months Later
The first thing I feel is her breathing against my chest.
Not the weight of the ranch. Not the mental checklist of everything that needs doing. Not the low hum of anxiety that used to greet me before my eyes even opened.
Just her. Warm and soft andhere.
Morning light filters through the curtains, painting gold stripes across the quilt. Delaney’s hair is a dark tangle on the pillow, one hand curled against my sternum like she’s checking my heartbeat even in sleep. Her wedding ring catches the light on her finger—that thin gold band has been there for three months now.
Three months.
I still can’t believe this is my life.
I don’t move. Don’t want to break this moment. Just watch her face, slack with sleep, the worry lines smoothed away. She looksyounger like this. Softer. The woman underneath all that armor she built to survive.
Four months ago, I woke up alone every morning. The first thing I felt was the weight of everything I had to carry. The ranch. The finances. The family fracturing around me while I tried to hold it together through sheer force of will.
Now, the first thing I feel is her breathing against my chest.
The weight hasn’t disappeared. But it’s easier when you’re not carrying it alone.
She stirs. Blinks up at me, her velvet brown eyes hazy with sleep. “You’re staring.”
“I’m admiring. There’s a difference.”
She squints at the bedside clock as if it personally offended her. “At six in the morning?”
“Best view in Montana.”
She groans and buries her face in my shoulder. “Too early for charm, cowboy.”
