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He inspects the small, pink mark on my skin before looking back up at me. “That wasn’t too hard, was it?”

“No.” I meet his gaze, showing the truth of my words. “It was perfect.”

Then.

I give him a matching one of his own. Right above his heart.

A mark of possession.

A claiming.

Something I never thought I’d want. Never imagined what a turn on it could be, seeing the visible evidence of my desire. But with Erik, I love it.

I love everything with Erik.

Sex in this sumptuous waterfall shower, an unexpected bonus that came with our room at The Point. Feeling him moving so deep inside me, it’s hard to tell where he ends and I begin.

Being on vacation with Erik, spending uninterrupted days together doing whatever we want. Sunny hikes through the Adirondacks just before the snow comes, holding hands at each summit as we gaze out at a majestic panorama of mountains and a brilliant blue sky overhead. Lazy mornings in our room, starting with sex, followed by a brief nap before sharing breakfast in bed.

I love yoga with Erik, feeling the heat of his hands on my hips as he helps with my poses. Feeling the sizzle of his lips on myneck. The surge of need that pulses at my core when his hand inevitably moves to cup my butt.

I love spending time in the garden with him back at home, watching our hard work come to life in an explosion of life and color.

Even in the tough times, Erik’s love gets me through. When I wake up in a cold sweat from another nightmare, or some small sound or a certain shade of orange triggers me into a panic, he’s there. Holding me. Calmly reassuring me. Lending me his strength when my own falters.

And I love being able to do the same for him—not to pull him out of his bad dreams, but to be there when he wakes. When he struggles to admit his own perceived weakness—which it isn’t, not even close—I hug him and remind him of all the important things.

That he’s still here for a reason.

That he’s not to blame.

That he’s the most incredible man in the world and I don’t know what I’d do without him.

“Tate.” Erik brushes my wet hair back from my face. His features crease with concern. “Are you okay? You just went all quiet. Do you want?—”

I stroke his jaw, lightly combing my fingers through his beard. Which I discovered several weeks ago is extra soft because of a special oil he bought for it, not wanting the roughness of his beard to irritate my skin.

And if that isn’t just the cutest thing, I don’t know what is.

“I’m fine,” I assure him with a smile. “More than fine. I was just thinking about how much I love you.”

Erik twitches inside me, somehow growing even longer and thicker than before. “Do you know what that does to me?” he asks roughly. His pupils dilate until there’s only a thin ring of blue around them. “Hearing you say those words?”

“I love you?”

“Yes.” He dips his head to capture my lips, teasing them open and plunging inside. His tongue moves in rhythm with his hips, kindling the flame inside me into an inferno.

By the time he breaks the kiss, I’m gasping for air. Even ridiculously-in-shape Erik is slightly out of breath. His cheeks are flushed from arousal and the heat of the shower. His features are like stone; not from anger, but a desperate need. “You’re gorgeous, Tate. It would be impossible not to want you. But the thing that turns me on the most is hearing you say you love me.”

Oh.

A flicker of vulnerability softens his gaze. “I never thought this would happen. Could happen. Finding someone… findingyou. You’re everything, Tate. And knowing you love me… it’s the best gift in the world. No. Not the world. The universe.”

My throat goes thick. My nose prickles.

“I feel the same way,” I tell him. “Loving you is just… it’s beyond anything I could have dreamed. And I feel so lucky to have found you.”

“Tate.”