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Her mouth is soft and fierce against mine, like she’s not sure what this is, only that she needs it.

She slips her tongue into my mouth roughly, and I meet her there, sucking on the tip, earning a soft moan from her lips.

And God, I give in. I kiss her like a man who’s been on fire for weeks, burning alive and finally getting water.

Finally getting the chance for something more with her. ?

I grip the backs of her thighs and lift her in one smooth motion, her legs wrapping around my waist without hesitation. She gasps into my mouth, then laughs softly, breathlessly, like she’s the happiest she’s been in years.

“I’ve got you,” I murmur against her lips. “Always.”

Without breaking the kiss, I carry her up the stairs, each step slow and steady, like I’m memorizing the feel of her again—her weight, her warmth, her trust that she’s clearly offering up to me.

I don’t deserve any of it, and she doesn’t say a word.

Just holds me tighter around my neck until I reach my bedroom.

I kick the door closed behind me and lower her gently onto the edge of the bed. Her eyes search mine as I pull back to look at her, both of us breathing hard, hovering in the thick space between history and hope for a future.

“I meant what I said,” I whisper, brushing her long hair back from her face. “I’m not rushing you. I’ll go as slow as you want. But if you’re not sure about whether this is what you want, just tell me now.”

Regan’s voice is soft, but certain. “It is.”

Still, I hesitate. Because if we do this—if I let myself have her like this—I know I’m not walking away. Not emotionally. Not physically. Not ever.

So, I kneel in front of her first and press a kiss to the inside of her knee. Then to her thigh. Then I push up her shirt slightly and give her one on her stomach. Then lower, right over the swell of her pelvis where I hope she’ll have our child grow someday.

And when I finally look up at her again, my voice is thick and wrecked. “I love you, Regan Marie Marshall.”

She freezes and her breathing stills.

“I don’t need you to say it back,” I say, remaining on the ground, my knees digging into the carpet.

I swallow thickly. “I just need you to know that I’m in love with you.

Even when I tried to tell myself you were better off without me.

Even when I messed it all up. I’ve loved you from the first moment you told me not to fall in love with you.

Might have loved you even before that when you were roping that dummy bull. ”

Her lips twitch with the memory of that night.

“And I’m not going anywhere,” I promise.

“Not unless you tell me to. Fuck a divorce and splitting up this property now that the deed’s finalized.

It has both of our names on it and that’s the way I intend it to stay.

I want to date you. Take you out. Court the hell out of you until you’re sick of me.

I want to ride our horses together and dream about the businesses we’ll grow here.

I want to be yours, Regan because you already feel like mine. ”

Her hands slide into my hair. “I want that too, Hayes.”

I let out a soft, cracked laugh, forehead pressed to hers because fuck it feels so good to hear those words. I didn’t even know I needed to hear them this badly. “Good. That’s really good, baby.”

And then there’s no more talking. Just skin as I strip off every bit of clothing from her body and mine until I’m naked on top of her. My fingers trail between her thighs, spreading her legs wide to make room for me before I part her pussy and dip my fingers inside.

“So wet for me, baby.”

She nods. “Only for you.”

I kiss her lips, then suck on her neck and move lower until I’m drawing one of her nipples into my mouth and inhaling her sweet scent.

“Hayes,” she whispers, voice breathy, trembling with need. “Make love to me.”

I pull back just enough to look in her eyes, to see if she means it. What I find there is everything I’ve been searching for. She may not have told me she loved me, but she does.

“You don’t have to ask me twice, honey.”

I line myself up at her entrance without a condom and then pause, heart pounding like it’s our first time all over again. “The last time we did this—” I start, needing to say it, needing her to know everything so that I can put one on if she wants me to.

But she cuts me off with a shake of her head and a breathless, “Don’t put on a condom. I want to feel all of you.”

That trust? That quiet, aching invitation? It nearly floors me. I nod, lips grazing hers, and then I press inside her heat, slowly, giving her everything—every inch of me, every raw, aching piece I’ve held back for weeks waiting for her to want this too.

“Breathe, baby,” I whisper, watching her eyes flutter shut as she stretches around me. “I’m almost in.”

She hisses, hips twitching, and I feel how tight she is—tight and wet and gripping me like her body remembers mine as well as I remember hers.

It’s heaven. It’s hell. It’s everything in between.

I draw out slightly, watching between our bodies at the way my cock is covered in her wetness, and then I push back in again, making it further this time as she relaxes.

And when I’m finally buried inside her, hips flush to hers, I hold there and wait. Let her feel it. Let me feel it. I circle my hips slightly, opening her up, rubbing her clit with my pelvis, earning a nice, soft moan.

I haven’t jerked off once since the last time we were together.

I haven’t let myself come, haven’t let myself forget how it felt to be inside of her because I know I didn’t deserve it.

And now? Now I’m making love to the only woman who’s ever felt like home, watching her body wrap around mine like it’s right. Like it’s meant to be.

“You feel so damn good,” I whisper hoarsely, voice cracking from restraint.

“You’re so big,” she breathes, blinking up at me like she’s wrecked already. “Make love to me, please.”

And then I move—slow at first, then a little deeper, a little harder. She wraps her legs around my waist and tilts her hips to meet me, matching my rhythm like she was made for it. My mouth finds her throat, her collarbone, her jaw, kissing her in between the promises I can’t stop whispering.

“ I love you. I’m here. I’m staying. I’ll never push you away again. I’ll be the man that you need me to be. I want everything with you. I want to build a life with you that I don’t want to escape.”

We move like we’re learning each other all over again, like we’re drafting a new story on top of the old one.

Every thrust is a vow. Every sigh, a second chance.

I kiss her like a man starved and she takes me like she’s been aching for this too, arms clutching, hips rising, breath catching every time I press deeper.

“You’re mine,” I murmur against her skin. “You’ve always been mine.”

And when she arches up into me, gasping my name like it’s the only word she knows, my control shatters. I grip her hips, grind deeper, and swear I feel her heart beating in time with mine.

“I’m so sorry,” I rasp, forehead to hers, eyes wet. “For every moment that I almost ruined us.”

She doesn’t answer. Doesn’t have to. Instead, she moves harder against me, rolling her hips and lifting them up on me, eyes fierce, lips trembling, giving me the only absolution I’ll ever need, her body and her trust. And it’s enough.

For now. But I know myself. And I know this woman.

Someday, I’ll ask her to remarry me. For real this time with vows and promises we both mean. No running. No fear. Just forever.

And when she says yes, I’ll spend every day giving her the family she’s dreamed about and the love she’s always deserved.