She blindly reaches behind her to lock the door, and then I’m walking her backward, our mouths never leaving each other.
“You’re mine,” I growl, tugging her tightly against me.
“Yes,” she sighs.
“And I’m yours. Today and forever.”
“Forever,” she moans.
I pull her flowing yellow dress, as bright as the light Quinn brings to my life, around her waist and settle her back on the desk. She fumbles with my belt and zipper, as frantic as I am to bring us together, freeing my painfully hard erection from my slacks. I pull her underwear to the side, finding her already soaked for me. Our eyes remained locked as I push inside her in one agonizingly slow push. I stop, fully seated inside of her, savoring the feeling of home.
“Fuck, I don’t know how long I’m gonna last,” I say through gritted teeth. “Between watching what a badass you were in that meeting and hearing you claim me, I’m right there unless we slow down.”
“Please don’t stop,” she whimpers.
I push her back to lie flat and shift her slightly off the edge. I pull out slowly, pausing with just the tip inside of her, then slide back in, inch by agonizing inch. I keep that pace long enough to have her squirming against me before I pick it up, filling her with punishing thrusts, hands tight on her hips. She clenches around me, digging her nails into my forearms.
Our sex life this summer was amazing. Mind-blowing, even, but this is different. There’s nothing hanging over our heads anymore.
“I love you,” I whisper onto her skin when we finish, nothing but harsh breath and tangled limbs. I’ll never get enough of saying that to her, of having the freedom to say it every time it crosses my mind.
She murmurs words I can’t comprehend in my current state as she pulls me close, our bodies still joined and her legs wrapped tightly around the back of mine.
We stare at each other as the truth of our situation settles between us. I kiss her—slow and purposeful. A promise of our life to come.
“If you’d told eighteen-year-old Colton that this is where we’d end up, his heart would’ve given out.”
She sighs, running her hand through my hair. “Fourteen years. So much wasted time.”
“Not a second of that time was wasted.” I lean down, giving her a soft kiss. “And you caught up eventually.”
She laughs on my lips. “Thank god for this summer, and for tiny Italian beds.”
I growl, the memories of our first night together flooding my senses. Back when I thought it was the only time I’d get to experience what it meant to be physically connected to the person who owns my whole heart.
We leave no room for words between our lips, wrapped up in each other and how perfectly we fit. I think back to those years of longing, of laughing with her and dying for the opportunity to touch her. I pull back slightly and lay my forehead against her, letting our noses brush as I savor the knowledge that this perfect woman I’ve loved my entire adult life is mine.
“Thank god for Rome.”
39
QUINN
ONE SUMMER LATER
To most people,this is probably the ugliest possible backdrop for a Roman wedding. In a city with some of the most beautiful architecture in the world, this rough brick and concrete stands out for its lack of opulence. But it’s the exact spot where Colton told me he loved me for the first time, and I can’t imagine swearing my life to him anywhere but this random stretch of wall on the Pantheon.
I pace a few steps back and forth, glancing back into the Piazza della Rotonda every few seconds.
“Where is she?” I ask.
“You know she’ll be here,” Colton says, reaching for my hand and just missing when I change directions again.
I shoot a wary look at the police officer stationed in the piazza. Technically, weddings aren’t allowed to happen on the streets of Rome. Although, also technically, we aren’tactuallygetting married. We took care of the legal side of things back in Boston—in a building even uglier than the side of the Pantheon—before heading here for the summer. This is more of a commitment ceremony than anything, but it still goes against the spiritof the law. I keep waiting for the officer to come over and yell at us to move along.
“We need to get started,” I say, eyes still glued to the man.
Colton puts a hand on either side of my face, forcing my eyes back to him. “We’re four people standing on the side of the building in a piazza where thousands of tourists congregate every day. There’s nothing sketchy about it.”
