I peered up at him with a hopeful look. “So, you think we’re going to be, OK?”
“We’re going to be more than OK, Storm. I love you,” Reed groaned, his mouth covering mine. My eyelids fluttered closed as I melted against him, my hand sliding from his broad chest.
Sensual lips devoured mine. That kiss was everything all at once: loving, gentle, possessive, and forceful, a promise to seal our future. His masculine scent enveloped me as I pushed onto my tiptoes, opening myself up as I placed my arms around his neck. Reed’s rough fingers curled around my jaw, angling my head to deepen his sweetly savage onslaught.
The taste of him went straight to my head, pouring through my senses as the sea crashed beneath us. I could feel the stars in the sky watching us, twinkling their approval, just like they used to when we came to that special place that was exclusively ours.
Kissing him back, my fingers tugged at his hair, greedy for more. His muscles surrounded me, and I couldn’t contain my need for him as I lifted my hips and pressed myself against his hardness. The rush of heat between my thighs was euphoric, and I moaned into his mouth.
Breaking the kiss, Reed pulled back and rested his forehead against mine, “I’ve missed you so fucking much. You’re mine now, Storm. Forever, and I’m never letting you go. I won’t go through that shit of losing you again, ever! Say you understand me.”Lifting his head, Reed’s hands smoothed my hair back as the sea breeze blew all around us. The air was tinged with salt.
Sliding my hands from his neck, I gripped his biceps so tightly. “I understand, and I’m not going anywhere, Reed. I love you, havealwaysloved you. I just wish I’d admitted that sooner.”
My admission morphed Reed’s expression from stern to one of unadulterated joy, and it caused my heart to thud against my chest. “Finally,” he whispered, taking my mouth again and then trailing small, tender kisses along my jaw. My breath hitched as her buried his head in my neck, nibbling the hollow of my throat with his teeth.
Speaking in between tender bites of my skin, he explained, “I can’t live without you, Storm. It’s always been you. Right from the start. My sweetheart. My secret love.”
Raising my hand, I traced my fingers across one tanned cheek, stating, “The last few weeks have been the best of my life and the worst: having you back but not being near you. I love you so much it hurts. I need you, Reed. Let’s go back to the hotel. I need you to make love to me.”
Reed’s raw half pained/half loving expression turned feral; his eyes were drugged with desire. “I thought you’d never ask.” He then kissed me aggressively, asserting his dominance, and I loved it. The man who had been my only lover blew my mind to the point where it almost splintered in two. I writhed against him, my hand dropping to his arousal, which was trying to force its way through his dress pants. Tracing the shape of him beneath my fingers, I gently squeezed his sex; the animalistic noise he made was thrilling. The heat between us continued to build as Reed’s tongue drove into my mouth one last time.
At that moment, I felt a strong feeling of contentment. The thought of living the rest of my life with Reed made me giddy inside, like I had finally found the right path after being lost for so many years.
Reed stepped back, lacing his fingersthrough mine with a grip that felt like a promise. The cocky player was gone, and in his place was a man vibrating with direction and confidence. He knew what he wanted.
His voice dropped to a low growl that vibrated against my chest. “It doesn’t need to be today. Not this year, or even the next,” he husked. “I’m in no rush now that I’ve finally got you back. But one day? One day, I’m making you mine officially, Storm Summers.”
My breath hitched, stalling in my throat. “What?” I whispered. The word felt small and fragile, as if saying it too loud could ruin that moment.
“I want you to marry me,” he rasped. It wasn't a question; it was a demand, a challenge to a world that had kept us apart for way too long. “I fucking love you, and I’m going to spend every second of the rest of my life making you happy. But I’m gonna need my ring on your finger, Teacup.”
Reed stepped back into my space, his masculine energy radiating through my clothes. His eyes were dark, fierce, and unyielding as he said in a tone that oozed his possession. “I want every other fucker in this country to look at you and know exactly who you belong to.”
The rush of joy wasn't just a spark; it was a lightning bolt. I ripped my hands from his, not to pull away, but to close that space between us, throwing my arms around his neck. My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against his chest as I rained kisses across his jaw, his cheeks, his mouth.
And for the first time in four years, the weight on my shoulders lifted.
“What do you say, Teacup? You ready for me to make you truly mine?”
“Yes,” I gasped against the skin of his cheek, the word a frantic, beautiful realization. “Yes. A thousand times, yes!”
EPILOGUE
STORM
“Mr. Prescott, Mr. Prescott. What are your thoughts on the verdict?”
The glass revolving doors of the courthouse acted like a lens, magnifying the media standing outside. When they saw us, the presssurgedforward in a tidal wave of flashing cameras and shouting mouths. They were like locusts, an aggressive, twitching mass that didn't give a shit about personal space. It was like an abrupt, aggressive invasion of privacy, and I hadn’t been prepared for it.
Microphones were thrust toward us like spears. The strobing effect of the cameras turned my vision into a series of sharp, blinding snapshots. I stumbled, and my fiancé wrapped a heavy arm around my waist. “Watch it,” Reed growled, his free hand thrusting away a photographer whose lens was inches from my face. The two security guards who’d been assigned to us were soon swallowed by the crush, their black bomber jackets disappearing.
“What are your goals for the remainder of the season?” Interesting. That wasn’t even about the case.
“Is it true that you guys are going for a spring wedding?” someone questioned, their voice cracking. I rolled my eyes behind my oversized glasses—the absurdity of that question in the wake of the trial we’d just left was nauseating.
“Do you believe Louise Palmer’s comments about David’s abuse?”
“What’s it like working with Coach Tom Ryerson?”
