“I am listening,” she whispered.
“I love you, Evelyn Harrington—with every cell of my being. It was that way for me from the start, and it will be that way until I depart this earth. You understand and accept me better than anyone: my pride and ambition, my fear of not being enough. You are my anchor, and when I thought you had left me, I was in hell—utterly lost without you. So how important do you think you are to me?”
Her pulse thrumming, she said, “Very important.”
His expression had never been more intense. “Try again.”
“The most important.”
The recognition pruned away her insecurities. There was nothing to stop her from being who she was meant to be. She felt herself unfurl, then burst into full bloom.
“I am more important than your campaign,” she said.
“Bloody right you are.” He cupped her cheek, rubbing his thumb along her cheekbone so tenderly that her heart stuttered. “Nothing matters to me more than you. Nothing.”
He pressed his mouth to hers. The kiss was gentle and deep, a reminder of the promises they had made and how, this time, they had kept them. Knowing they would spend the rest of their lives cherishing and honoring one another, Evie felt happiness flood her like sunlight, reaching every dark corner and banishing her doubts for good.
“I appreciate the sentiment, I do,” she said. “And I adore you with everything that I am. But you would not be the man I love without your ambition and desire to improve the lives of others. I believe in you, James—in the honor and decency you stand for. I believe you can win this election and be a force for progress. I intend to support you in any way I can, starting with seeing justice served to Wilmington. Together, we can put that scandal to rest once and for all.”
“Together, we can do anything, my love.” James’s mien was equal parts fierce and solemn. “You are mine, and I am yours. Not only for ease, but for every trial. This is the way of love: to stay, to forgive, to begin again.”
Emotion welled as he spoke the vow written on the wall—and she finally understood what it meant. Their love, like Rosalinda and Thomas’s, had never been an easy thing, but the trials they endured had strengthened their bond. They had taken risks for one another—staying, forgiving, and now starting anew—and she would make that same choice, over and again, if it brought her back to him.
“I choose you,” she said. “I will cherish you, always and forever.”
They sealed their promises with another kiss, and instant heat flared between them. He shoved his fingers in her hair, his mouth consuming hers with sweet intensity. Soon they were breathless, laughing at their haste as they tore away the layers between them. It wasn’t long before he laid her upon his coat, naked and trembling with passion, her nipples budded and glistening from his passionate ministrations. He knelt between her spread thighs, her Apollo gilded by firelight, who wasn’t perfect but something far better.
“You are mine,” she breathed. “My husband, my love. Come to me.”
At her summons, a savage light came into James’s gaze. He fell upon her, and she gasped at his bold and relentless penetration, the sensation of his thick heat drilling into her core.
“Devil and damn, I love being inside you,” he said in a guttural voice. “The way you hold me so tightly—yes, exactly so. Squeeze me like you never want to let me go.”
Moaning, she did. The sensual sounds of their mating filled the grotto. Gazing at his precious countenance, she ran her hands over his flexing back, savoring the feel of him so hard and strong, inside and over her. She hooked her legs around his muscled hips, arching to draw him deeper, digging her nails into his shoulders.
“By Jove.” Sweat sheened on James’s brow, his face taut with restraint. “You’re taking me so deep. I can’t hold on much longer?—”
“Let go,” she whispered. “Give it to me. I want everything from you.”
She saw the instant his control snapped. He reared back—and slammed into her. Cries jolted from her lips as he pounded into her, his stones slapping her pussy with weighted momentum, the pleasure raw and wild. Their bodies strained together, their eyes locked, and she was nearly there when his neck arched, and he roared her name.
Drawing back, he rammed in. His face contorted as he spent, a forceful eruption that scraped feral sounds from his throat. He coated her insides with heat, and each time she thought he was done, he surged again until she was overflowing. He collapsed atop her, burying his face in her neck. Stroking his hair, she was happy to bask in his contentment even if she hadn’t quite reached her own zenith.
“Thank you, my love.” He lifted his head. “Now it is your turn.”
“My turn…oh, you needn’t.”
She squeaked in shock as he kissed an intent path down her body. Surely he didn’t mean to kiss her there, right after he had?—
“James. You mustn’t—oh, by the blooms.”
He swiped his tongue through her folds, his gaze smoldering and roguish.
“By the blooms, indeed,” he murmured. “What a pretty bud I’ve found. And it’s begging to be tended.”
He closed his lips around her, drawing her sensitive peak into his mouth. He sucked and licked and tended to her with such nonchalant depravity that she soared over with a blissful cry. Then he crawled over her, her wicked god of a husband, and kissed her thoroughly.
“I love you, wife,” he said with satisfaction.
