Three Reckless Words: A Grumpy Sunshine Romance (The Rory Brothers Book 3)
Three Reckless Words: Chapter 27

Even a couple weeks after my discharge, I’m still bursting with gratitude to be free.

I spent way too long cooped up in that hospital bed. My parents visited every day, which was definitely something, and Archer rarely left my side to shower, which was sweet but unnecessary.

The not showering part, I mean. Keeping me company and bringing Colt around every day was a nice bonus. A gesture that told me he really, really meant everything he said on that delirious walk back to civilization.

If he was going to tell me he loved me, he could have done it with roses and a tasty dinner like most guys. Or at least when I was fully awake and able to process words drenched in emotion.

I hate that I have blurry half-assed shards of a core memory I wasn’t totally present for. But I love that his confession kept me alive more.

He did it again, too, which was even better.

Several times, actually.

Once when we were still in the hospital, when he kissed me and told me he loved me and never could’ve forgiven himself if something awful happened to me.

That was adorable.

So was the moment he brought me home and I stood on his threshold. He asked to carry me in, and I told him absolutely not.

They haven’t let me do much standing over the last few days. Walking still feels like a newfound luxury and my legs still hurt plenty from my time in hell.

But Archer gently swept me up, carrying me into his house like a total gentleman while I laughed and demanded to be put down.

I’m glad he didn’t listen.

He told me I didn’t have to stay, but he wanted me to.

What girl could say no?

So yes, I stayed.

We didn’t even bother pretending I had the guest room this time, not after we set up my stuff in Archer’s bedroom. Colt was amazingly cool with it, turning down his chance to crack a hundred cheesy jokes.

“I know you’re with my dad now, Winnie,” he said, rolling his eyes. “You guys make each other happy and all. It’s cute, but just don’t get all kissy in front of me.”

This kid is going to grow up just like his father, and I couldn’t be happier.

Because I’m more madly in love with Archer Rory by the day.

Not a little bit in love.

No, this is full-on obsessed in a slightly unhealthy way.

The kind of smitten where I like to watch him sleep if I wake up before him and wonder how someone who’s a certified mess ever wound up with a man as wonderful and gentle and sweet and strong and perfect as him.

I mean, he’s not always perfect.

When he’s tired, he can be the king of grouchy, but his heart never wavers. It’s always in the right place, and I can tell he’s working on being less snarly.

He rolls over sleepily, catching me in the act of creeping on him.

His eyelids flutter open and he squints at me through the darkness. I don’t know what time it is, but fall has come, and there’s a lot less natural light seeping through the blinds than summer mornings.

“Are you watching me?” he mutters.

“Edward watched Bella sleep in Twilight and that was totally normal,” I assure him. “I rest my case.”

“Normal, huh? I promise I don’t sparkle, woman.”

“Hey, look at you! So you do get my references, old man!” I snuggle back against his chest. Today, we’re going back to Solitude for the first time since my little escapade, and I’m buzzing with excitement.

If you thought the bee puns would ever stop, you’re wrong.

“Do I feel old?” His arm curls around me, tucking me more firmly into him.

“Nah. You’re aged like a good whisky,” I tease, and he bites my ear. It’s playful, but it makes me gasp.

Heat floods through me.

Archer has been extremely gentle with me since I got back and settled into recovery mode, but what I really want is for him to rip away my panties with his teeth.

To my disappointment, he presses a kiss against my hair and shifts his body away so his cock doesn’t press against my hip. “We should get up soon.”

“Can’t you go back to sleeping first?” I protest.

“So you can go back to ogling me? No thanks. For all I know, you’ll catch me drooling next.”

“You don’t drool in your sleep. But you do snore sometimes.”

“See? No secret’s safe with Sugarbee around.”

“But you love me anyway.” It’s still weird saying it, like this big secret that shouldn’t be spoken just yet. But he turns me around and kisses me on the mouth, hard and deep, like my words trigger something deep inside him.

That’s my cue.

I wrap my arms around him and kiss him with everything I have, hoping he’ll delay whatever he has planned today. But he disentangles from me with a laugh and swats my ass.

“Get moving or we’ll be late.”

“For what?”

In answer, he rolls out of bed. The bulge in his boxers makes it very clear that him not taking full advantage of me this morning has nothing to do with his attraction.

“We seriously don’t have time for a quickie?”

“Don’t you want to see your bees?” he counters. “Colt also needs a ride. He’s got a lab today and I’m not risking some college punk inviting him to a drunken party or some shit.”

I sigh because he’s right—I do want to see how my bees are doing and Archer is understandably protective of his genius son who skips his normal school a few days a week for college classes.

“Fiiine,” I whine, forcing myself up to get dressed quickly.

Once we’ve dropped Colt off at the science building on campus, Archer drives us to Solitude. It’s framed with vibrant red leaves from the forest behind it beginning to change over. It’s a dry, warm autumn day, and I hunch my shoulders in my sweater.

His hand replaces mine and we take a minute, just standing and staring at the little cottage and the garden beyond. Late blooms of summer flowers still give the place a lovely streak of color with other plants going dormant.

This is my favorite time, before the cold weather rolls in and everything shrivels up. Change is in the air, so thick you can smell it.

Long hikes won’t be on my menu for a while, but I don’t have PTSD over camping or anything.

Even though I almost died there, the thick trees still look beautiful from a distance, especially with gold leaves showering the ground.

“How does it feel to be back without freaky stalkers and endless stress?” Archer asks softly beside me.

I blink back tears. “So good. You have no idea.”

“I think I do,” he says gruffly, hiding a smile.

Together, hand in hand, we walk around the back of the house to the gardens next to the woods.

Everything feels so still, like the whole world is holding its breath. For the first time in a long while, I’m at peace.

My hand tightens on Archer’s fingers. I’m so grateful to be here, to be with him, I could practically fall over.

“What is it?” he whispers.

“Being here, with you… I’m happy.”

“Always what I love to hear.”

“It’s making me think… maybe I’ve never been happy before. Not like this.”

Archer pulls me closer until I’m in his arms, looking up at him, this bear of a man I’ve given my heart to, wholly and completely.

The feels are overwhelming.

I need to get them out so I can breathe again.

“I love you, Archer Rory,” I start, but my phone vibrates in my pocket, and I hesitate, the moment interrupted.

“I know you do. You should answer that, Winnie.” His blue eyes shine, impossibly soft and smiling as he looks down at me.

I shake my head, but when I flip the screen over to see who’s calling, my heart leaps into my throat. I actually squeak.

It’s the lab from the University of Missouri calling me back.

A few weeks ago, we sent them a sample of the honey and all the info I had about the bees. I thought maybe they could analyze it and see if there’s anything special, beyond the neon violet color.

“Oh my God, if that’s who I think it is…”

“Go on, pick up.” Archer chuckles when he sees the panicked look on my face.

I don’t need more encouragement.

As he wanders along the path where the bee boxes used to be, I swipe the screen and hold my phone against my ear.

“Hello?”

“Is this Miss Winnie Emberly?”

“Speaking.”

“I hope you’re well, Miss Emberly. This is Tyler In-ho, an assistant to Dr. Mackay. We’re calling about the lab results of the honey you sent us a few weeks back.” The male voice pauses like he’s checking data. “The results came back yesterday and I wanted to follow up.”

“Okay, great. And?” I can hardly breathe.

“It turns out, the honey has remarkable anti-inflammatory properties, stronger than ordinary kinds by several orders of magnitude. I cross referenced the results with a few other researchers, and they say they’ve only seen this a couple times in samples from overseas. Never here in the United States,” he says cheerfully. “It’s early, of course, but it’s possible more bee colonies like this could serve the medical community very well.”

“For medicine?” I’m gobsmacked. This is like my greatest dream come true.

“Well, if the results hold up under more rigorous testing, yes. This could have significant impacts on treatments and therapies designed for mitigating severe inflammation.”

My breath stalls.

Am I dreaming?

Did I ever really make it out of the woods?

“Wow. So, um… what are the next steps?” I ask. “Can I see the data?”

“In its raw form?”

“Yes, whatever you have.”

“Certainly. I can have that emailed to you along with the report we promised, provided you sign an NDA. With your permission, Miss Emberly, we’d love to do further studies. Where did you say these hives were based again?”

For a second, I hesitate.

“Only if the bees won’t be disturbed too much. Assuming the honey comes back just as strong next year, I mean.”

We talk a little more about logistics while Archer waits patiently in the morning sun, looking back fondly every few minutes.

I love how he’s content to just be here while I have my moment.

And suddenly, the excitement hits full blast. I’m pumped about the bees and the honey and the unexpected miracle.

The details the researcher rattles off start to wash over me. I agree that the bees need to be studied, as long as they can be protected, and clear my throat.

“I’m sorry, but I have to go. Can you send over the data today?”

“Absolutely.”

“Thanks for calling. I appreciate it.” I walk over to where Archer waits and beam up at him.

“No problem. Have a good day.”

I’m still smiling at Archer as I say, “I will.”

“Good news?” Archer takes the phone from my hand as I end the call. He tucks it into his pocket.

“Yes.” I cock an eyebrow. “Is there a reason you just took my phone?”

“Because I’m done with distractions, Sugarbee. Just you and me now.”

I smile. “Did you know the lab would call today?”

His fingers slide through mine as we walk toward the brand-new wall Archer had built around the property, roughly where the forest begins. His very own bee-protecting privacy wall with small nooks for hidden cameras.

I feel a lot better already.

“I figured it was coming,” he says. “I called them last week to see how things were progressing. They told me they expected results back soon. Yesterday, they told my receptionist you’d hear something by afternoon.”

“And you wanted me here when I got the call…”

“I know this place means a lot to you. I wanted to celebrate somewhere that makes you happy.”

God, this beautiful man.

I’m about to wrap my arms around his neck and tell him I could’ve gotten the news anywhere, as long as he’s with me—when I notice something else.

Four new bee boxes, glistening in the sun, tucked in a smaller enclosure not far from the wall’s metal gate.

“You’ve been busy,” I say.

With his hand in mine, he pulls me toward him. “The wall wasn’t the only renovation. I made plenty of room for the bees next season so you won’t have to go chasing them through the woods.”

I was lying when I said I was happy before.

This is happy. Freaking giddy.

Everything keeps falling into place. I still don’t understand how I’m actually sharing it with an incredible man who does little things like this for the bees.

For me.

As we move closer to the new boxes, I see each one has a small note painted across the side, unmistakably written in Archer’s blocky handwriting.

“Bee Brave?” I read it out loud as we approach, smiling. “Arch, was that you?”

He shrugs, though he obviously did.

There’s a grin breaking through his broody face. No matter how hard he tries to hold back, the smile slips through, transforming his face like the sun.

He gives me this reckless, heady joy that makes me want to laugh along with him.

And when I see what’s on the next few boxes, I fall more in love.

Bee Happy, the next box says.

Bee True. I keep reading down the line.

And finally, as we get closer to the final box, Bee Mine?

This one has a question mark.

Hmmm.

I look at it several times just to make sure I’m not misreading anything—I’m still a little afraid that nasty fever caused brain damage—before I look up at him, confused.

“Be yours? Archer, I already am.”

So much more than he can ever know.

I can’t imagine belonging to anyone else. Like it or not, he’s stuck with me now.

Archer’s smile fades into a blank, paper-thin mask, and something else, too.

Uncertainty? But why?

“This one’s special, Winnie,” he tells me. “Go ahead and open it.”

A strange feeling washes over me, this tingly excitement flicking through my nerves.

I feel like a kid on Christmas morning with a present bigger than me. I go to open it, reaching out.

The lid pulls up on a hinge like a regular wooden trunk, and inside—

Holy hell.

It’s amazing that I keep standing.

Inside, there’s a blue-lined velvet box, already open and holding the most gorgeous silver and gold ring. Small bees are engraved into it with wings of sparkling diamonds.

When I turn around, stunned, Archer waits on one knee.

“When I was young, I rushed into a bad marriage for all the wrong reasons,” he whispers, his eyes on mine, lit with emotion. “Now, I want to rush into marriage again. This time, though, for all the right reasons. You gave me back my courage, Winnie. You woke me up. You set me free from the past. Now, I need to know… will you bee mine forever?”

Oh my God.

Archer Rory is asking me to marry him and he’s using bee puns.

Ohhh my gawd, I’m crying until he looks like a blurry, smiling mess.

Probably the worst response to any proposal ever, but for once, it doesn’t feel inappropriate or annoying or wrong.

He doesn’t judge my feelings when they’re out of place. He’s not like my parents.

Mostly, I’m overwhelmed with the feeling that this is meant to be.

Sorry, meant to bee.

“You… you punned me,” I say, half laughing and half crying as I tug him up so I can kiss him. “Of course, I’ll be yours! I told you, I already am. I was from the start.”

“You’ll marry me?”

“Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!” I throw myself into his arms.

My next kiss is sloppy and wet, but he doesn’t seem to mind, folding both arms around me and pressing me against him until we both need to come up for air. He takes the ring from the box—from both boxes—and I hold out my hand.

It slides on my finger perfectly.

“It’s beautiful,” I whisper. The ring Holden gave me was just this soulless giant diamond some woman at a jewelry store probably told him was the height of fashion. But this ring is me—all me.

“I love you, Winnie Emberly. Keep making me crazy forever,” he growls.

Laughing, I wiggle my fingers so the ring sparkles in the light.

“Let’s get married soon so I can take your name. I’d rather start over as Wynne Rory.”

He grins. “Just say the word, woman. We’ll be married however you like.” He smooths a thumb across my cheek. “We could elope and get hitched in New Zealand for all I care.”

“While skydiving?”

He snorts.

“Not sure you’d hear my vows, but if that’s what you want, so be it.”

I grin wickedly. “Springfield. All the media should be there. I can see the headlines now. Business Mogul Marries Attorney General’s Daughter.”

“Will She Make it Down the Aisle?” he quips, and I laugh.

“You’re right, I can’t imagine anything worse.”

“If it was between that and not marrying you, I’d still do it in a heartbeat.”

“Oh, Romeo,” I say, slapping his arm and crushing myself against him again.

We’re alone and we’re still wearing too many clothes for this.

“If I didn’t know better, I might think you want to sweep me off my feet,” I tease.

Without hesitation, he scoops me up and starts to carry me back toward the cabin. “How’s this?”

“Very hot. Where are we going?”

“Your next surprise. I rented out Solitude for the weekend. So you do the math.” He pretends to think. “First, I’m taking my fiancée inside to fuck her brains out. Then, after we order whatever food you like, we’ll do it again in the shower.”

Heaven.

My insides go liquid just thinking about it. “So this is why you waited this morning…”

He places his lips to my ear.

“Now you know. Next time I fucked you, I had to see that ring.”

Insanely hot.

I don’t know what I did in a past life to deserve a man like Archer, but in this one, I’ll do everything in my power to keep him.

The ring on my finger suggests I have a good shot.

Then again, didn’t I know that?

He came for me.

When I was lost and alone and dying in the woods, my prince came. Dad flew in and helped organize rescue efforts, sure. He threw tons of money at it and leveraged his connections.

But Archer went into the woods for me.

No one made him.

No one promised him anything but grief if he couldn’t replace me in the dark, dense maze of trees, yet he did it anyway.

Because he could.

Because he couldn’t bear losing me the same way I know losing him would shred my soul.

So I wrap my arms around his neck and replace his lips with mine.

He gives back a rough groan, kicking the door open and striding inside, letting it swing shut behind us.

Not so long ago, I fled here to escape an arranged marriage.

Who knew I’d replace a husband?

I break the kiss. “How do you feel about more kids?”

His eyes widen.

“No, not now. But later. After we’re married, when we’re settled.” It’s a conversation we probably should’ve had before, but with Colt almost grown, I get it if he needs time.

Yes, I want my own baby or three.

Something small and sweet to hold and cradle and nurture the same way Archer raised his son. I need it with an intensity that makes my chest ache.

“How many babies you want, woman?” Archer asks, walking into the bedroom and laying me down on the bed.

He falls on top of me, and I wrap my legs around him, holding him close.

“One,” I whisper, blushing. “Maybe two.”

I hold back so I don’t scare him away.

“Two?”

“I know with Colt that makes three… is that too much for an old man?” I smooth the dark hair back from his brow.

He chuckles.

“Two, three, what the fuck ever,” he rumbles. “As long as it’s us, Winnie, I’m open.”

Us.

The best word in the universe.

“Then it’s settled,” I say happily. “Two girls, then we’ll see. Colt will be the best big brother.”

“Girls, huh?” Archer presses his hips against me, rubbing his erection against my belly in a way that makes me squirm.

“I want a little girl I can spoil, all the ways my parents never spoiled me,” I say, although it’s more of a gasp when Archer shifts again. It’s getting harder to keep my mind on the conversation I started. “But do you think we should ask Colt what he’d think?”

Archer kisses me fiercely, cradling my head in his hands. “I love that you think of him. I’m sure he’ll be down for whatever makes us happy.”

“He feels like my son sometimes. I know he’s not and he’ll never be, but—”

“He is,” Archer insists hoarsely. “He has another mother, yes, but you’ll always be around more. He already sees you as part of our family.”

My heart swells.

My eyes fill with tears.

So unexpected, the sweet sting of it.

Never once did I think I’d fall for a single dad. To my younger self, that was too much baggage, too much difference in life experience. Honestly, I wasn’t sure I’d ever be ready for kids.

But with Archer, it’s so different.

Colt isn’t like anything I imagined, kind and gentle and ridiculously smart.

Best of all, marrying Archer doesn’t mean I’m being tossed into motherhood.

Not when it’s something I want to take on, and they make it so easy.

I want to be an older, loving woman in Colt’s life—a mom he can trust when his real mother is still a whole lot of ‘wait and see.’

I want to be there to tease him about the girls he has crushes on.

I want to see him off to prom.

I want him to come home to cakes and coffee and good conversation if he blows a science test or doesn’t nail down his first dream job—though with how bright he is, it’s not likely—and to celebrate his wins.

I’m honored Archer loves me that much, enough to give me the privilege of helping Colt grow up.

And with our own kids, I have zero doubts it’ll be smooth sailing.

Colt will always have Rina, of course, and I’m hopeful in time we’ll all get along.

She sent me flowers, which was unexpectedly nice. It makes me think maybe in the future we can get over—well, the fact that we’re sharing a family.

But daughters of my own…

“I hope they have your eyes,” I whisper, threading my hands through his thick dark hair. “And I hope they’ll be just as clever as you.”

“As long as they’re as kind and intelligent as their mother,” he says, nuzzling his nose against mine.

We’re still lying on the bed.

Although my body hums with need, and I can feel him throbbing against me, there’s this lovely stillness.

“I’m so pumped to share a life with you,” I whisper.

“I hope they have your hair.”

“Archer!” I laugh, and he kisses me.

He’s greedier this time, though, his tongue sweeping into my mouth, stealing my many questions about the future.

There are so many things to think about.

Will we keep the same house? Where will we get married? Does he want an official engagement announcement?

None of that matters now.

Today, there’s just us, together and whole.

He slides his hands down my waist, replaceing the hem of my pants and toying with slipping his fingers under.

“I love you,” I say, “but if you draw this out, I will lose my patience.”

“What will you do, Sugarbee?”

I pretend to think, tightening my legs around him, rolling him over until his back is on the bed and I’m straddling him. Even through the material separating us, I can feel how big and hot he is, how much he needs this just as bad as I do.

“How about this?” I whisper.

His hands settle on my hips, squeezing until it hurts so deliciously.

“Can’t say I mind.”

I push his shirt up and reach for his jeans, ripping open the button, the zipper, and tugging them off.

He helps me, kicking away his pants and boxers and quickly stripping off his shirt until he’s gloriously mine.

Then, it’s my turn.

Passion erupts in this frantic movement as he yanks off my shirt. It gets tangled in my hair, and we laugh as I fight to free it while he unhooks my bra.

My pants and panties come down easier, and soon we’re fully bared, panting with anticipation.

We’ve done this countless times, but he still leaves me soaked.

I know his body better than my own after I’ve mapped it with my tongue.

I know the chiseled lines of his muscle, the dips and valleys, the dark ink mingling with chest hair.

I know exactly how sharp the arrow pointing to his groin is, and where the tiny scar on his abdomen came from.

I know so much about this man, but I’m still awestruck when we’re caught in the moment, almost trembling with the raw urge to have him in me.

And now there’s this beautiful ring on my finger.

That’s new and it gives this a special edge.

I don’t want to ever take it off.

His hands make me gasp when he touches me.

“Winnie, fuck,” he growls out my name, just the way I love. “You’re too perfect.”

“Archer—”

“No. Let me touch you.” His voice is raw, so I stay where I am, kneeling before him as he traces his fingers down my stomach, around my thighs, and finally to my pulsing center.

I gasp.

Holy hell.

Why does it feel so different?

I don’t know if it’s the ring or the promise of marriage hanging over us like this wild aphrodisiac, or even the emotional sugar rush that makes my skin tingle. But it’s like my body comes alive with new nerves when he touches me.

It sings.

“You’re so wet for me, good girl. Do you really need this cock so bad?” he mutters, sliding one finger inside me.

I go tight and loose at once, the electric pleasure intensifying.

The noise I make sounds obscene.

Oh, I love it.

“I’m yours,” I whisper, watching the way his face changes when I tell him.

His eyes widen and his nostrils flare.

His blue gaze sharpens, all midnight stars, ready to devour me like the night.

His cock jerks, but I stay where I am.

It feels so good to surrender and let this man lead.

“You’re mine. Tell me.” He slides another finger in my pussy.

“Yours, yours,” I whisper.

I roll my hips, helping his strokes.

His eyes are dark on me, watching as I moan and writhe on his fingers, just like I’ll do on his dick soon.

I know it turns him on to see me like this, and knowing that makes the fever in my blood absolutely crazy.

I’m dangerously close to coming.

I should be used to it now, being so hilariously quick to finish when it’s Archer freaking Rory, but it doesn’t stop me from loving it.

The O barrels closer.

I don’t need to tell him.

He can sense it from my heaving breaths, the way my nipples pucker, my pussy clenching his hand so tight.

“That’s fucking right,” he urges, increasing the tempo of his thrusts and trailing his free hand along my breast—a light touch, a tease to keep me wanting.

Yes, it’s working.

But it’s also just nudging me closer to the brink without pushing me over, torturing me in the most exquisite way possible.

Then Archer meets my eyes, baring his teeth. “Let me feel that pussy come, sweetheart. Don’t you dare hold back.”

“Yes! Archer!”

I obey, slurring his name like a desperate prayer as pleasure cuts through me, swelling and cascading and drowning my senses.

He holds me as I slump against him, until he finally removes his hand, slick from my pussy.

I watch him in stunned silence as he takes his sweet time licking each finger.

This time, he doesn’t give me time to recover, or even ask.

He just pushes me back with a feral glint in his eye until I’m lying against the pillow.

His face hovers just over mine as he slams himself in balls deep.

It’s not gentle when he’s so huge, filling me so completely.

It’s sudden and sharp and it almost makes me come again.

Totally unheard of before this man.

But now, Archer could practically tell me to come without touching me and my body would listen.

It’s like he has me conditioned, trained to obey his commands.

And he links his strong fingers with mine as he moves.

All I can see are his eyes, wide and intense, inviting me to lose myself.

All I know is Archer, my almost-husband—and he dominates my senses the same way he rules my heart. Soon, he’ll take over every part of my life.

God, I welcome him.

Sighing, I cup his face in my hands, smoothing his cheeks, and he kisses my palm. It’s this tenderness that takes our sex from great to mind-blowing.

He doesn’t just make love to my body, he fucks my mind, too.

Another delight I never imagined before Archer.

Another act of worship I’ll always adore—even if we have the most rough, inhuman sex sometimes, it’ll always have love.

That’s what it means, I suppose, to love a man this deeply.

“I can’t wait to marry you,” I strangle out, my breath caught in my throat.

“And I can’t wait to breed this little pussy.” He reaches between my legs and squeezes possessively.

I. Am. Dead.

Especially when he kisses me again, and I press my body against his, holding on to every movement and meeting his thrusts with my own trembling hips.

Archer is mine with every grunt, every pump, every guttural curse leaving his lips.

I might be his, but he’s mine, and I’m half-crazed when I say, “Do it, do it, I’ll love you forever.”

It’s not really possible, no. I’m not even off birth control yet.

But just imagining it, the way I could let him erupt and let his molten seed replace its mark…

My teeth catch my bottom lip.

I bite down, smiling like mad as his rhythm quickens.

He’s pounding me now, bringing me closer with every thrust, lifting me off the bed with punishing strokes.

I’m on the edge of a cliff.

When he grabs my chin, tilting my face up so I meet his gaze, I’m so gone.

“I love you, Winnie Rory,” he says.

Destroyed.

I don’t have a prayer of holding back another second, not after that.

I just hold on, throwing my head back in the best orgasm of my entire life.

All-consuming, soul-ripping, eye-rolling ecstasy.

And I know he’s just as tormented as he thrusts straight through my convulsions, reaching that fever pitch that only halts when he pushes so deep.

His cock swells.

He turns to stone.

Archer groans like an avalanche, biting my lips as he comes.

He floods me with so much heat.

It’s too divine, the way we go spiraling down together in perfect rhythm.

When my vision isn’t white anymore and I can catch my breath, I smile into his strong, bearded face.

“Winnie Rory might be the best thing I’ve heard you say all day.”

“Yeah? Better than ‘will you marry me’?”

I hold him tighter, tracing his brow.

“Better. Because I can’t wait to make it official. I can’t wait to start the rest of our lives.”