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“Good scared, or bad?”

“Good scared. It’s like I’m jumping off a cliff, but it’s okay, because I know you’ll catch me.”

“I’ll always catch you.”

We stay tangled in the flowers until the sun rises higher and the flowers on my finger begin to droop. When Preston finally stands, he holds his hands out for me to take, then kisses my knuckles when I’m on my feet too.

“I love you so much, my sweet darling.”

The words send quivers throughout.

We go back to our room with the intention to pack and continue on our way, but the room feels thick with love. The soft petals on my finger mean more to me than any diamond could ever. Neither of us says much, both stealing glances and smiles, caught up in the magnitude of what we’ve promised each other.

I sit on the bed, watching Preston rummage through his bag, but when he catches me staring, he smiles big, his dimple showing its presence.

“You okay?” He steps closer. “Having second thoughts?”

“I’m totally okay. Which is kind of weird.”

Preston takes a seat next to me, pushing a strand of my unbrushed hair behind my ear, letting his fingers trail down my neck.

“I know it’s not a big fancy proposal, but I promise—”

“No. I don’t need a big fancy proposal. It’s perfect for where we are.”

He lets out a heavy sigh, seemingly having been holding it in while I spoke. His thumb traces the edge of my jaw, and I can’t help but lean into his touch. I don’t want to fight the pull anymore, so I don’t second-guess the feeling blooming.

“I don’t want to lose this. Even if everything catches up to us. I’ve fought too hard for this.”

“Me either,” I whisper.

I turn to face Preston, my lips grazing against his. The kiss is tender, sealing the promise we’ve made. His hands slide up my back beneath the hem of my shirt, pulling me closer. The warmth of his shirtless body brings me solace.

My fingertips trace the contours of his body; the ridges of his abs, the faint, raised scar that trails his side. I pull away from him, standing to shed my clothes, tossing them onto a pile on the floor. He doesn’t hesitate to do the same.

I settle on top of him, my legs straddling his hips as my hands continue their exploration. His skin is soft, but the muscle beneath is solid, like a statue I want to commit to memory. He lies back, gripping my hips, and I follow him down, both of my hands resting on either side of his head. My breasts brush against his chest, sending electricity through my body.

Preston’s eyes wander with his hands, roaming freely, mapping the curves of my body. His thumbs brush the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. I can feel him hard, pressing against me, a promise of what’s to come. I smile against his lips.

“Tell me what you want,” I breathe, our noses touching. My hand moves, reaching between us, cradling his length in my hand.

“I want you, darling. All of you. Mine, forever.”

Goosebumps erupt across my skin.

With a slow, unrushed movement, he thrusts, filling me inch by inch; my jaw drops, and a gasp pulls deep into my lungs. My head falls to the side, pleasure washing through my core.

I roll my hips in an intentional, sensual rhythm as I grasp at his shoulders for leverage. Preston’s large hands slide down my ass, squeezing and lifting, aiding in my movements, urging me to move faster. But I resist, keeping the pace to savor the achy pressure inside me.

“Wynnie,” he grits. “You’re driving me mad.”

“Good.”

My lips trail kisses along his jawline, down his neck, and over the hollow of his throat. His hold tightens, his breath coming in hot, short gasps as I continue my slow, torturous dance. I love the look of his face, his jaw shifting, eyebrows pulling up. He watches my body, taking in his with groans of pleasure.

The room is filled only with the sounds of us: the soft creak of the bed and the ragged rhythm of our pants. It’s a symphony of desire.

“Please, I n–” He begs.