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When he finally broke the kiss, his forehead pressed against mine, his breath uneven, he muttered against my lips?—
“You’re mine.”
I smiled. “I was always yours.”
His chest shook with laughter. Then he growled, low and possessive.
“We’re getting a real ring, baby.”
I grinned. “Fine. But I get to pick it.”
His hands tightened on my waist. “Like hell you do.”
The argument dissolved into another kiss, into laughter, into a life that had once seemed impossible but was now undeniably mine.
Because I hadn’t just found Marcus.
I had found all of them.
A family. A home.
A future.
And I wasn’t letting go.