Page 13 of Mountain Man's Mail Order Runaway

And I didn’t. I wanted us to fall together. To feel that rush at the same time, tangled and breathless and consumed.

My fingers moved faster. His grip tightened. His head dropped back against the cushion as his hips thrust upward to meet mine, our bodies moving in perfect, desperate rhythm.

“I love you,” I said as my climax crested again. “I love you so much.”

He pulled me flush against his chest just as we came—his groan deep and guttural, mine a breathless cry muffled against his skin. We clung to each other as the aftershocks rippled through us.

Neither of us spoke for a moment. There was only the sound of our breathing and the familiar nighttime hush of Wildwood Valley.

Then I shifted slightly and looked up at him. “I think I’m ready.”

He blinked down at me. “Ready?”

“To have another baby.”

His eyes searched mine, slowly softening as the meaning sank in.

“I want her to have a sibling,” I said. “I want us to have more of this. More little feet running through the house. More bedtime stories and sticky kisses. More love.”

He smiled, wide and full of wonder. “Then let’s do it.” He brushed a damp strand of hair from my forehead. “Let’s make a baby. Damn it, I love you. More than life itself.”

And just like that, our future expanded right there on the patio—between the scent of sun-dried sheets and two half-empty glasses—full of promise, joy, and freedom.