Page 274 of The Billion Heirs Boxed Set

I smile through my tears and nod.

“You think if I take you up there, you’ll let me go all the way this time?”

I can’t help but laugh.

“Maybe.”

He pulls me along to the ladder and I climb first. I know he’s looking at my ass as he follows me close behind.

Once we’re in the loft, he pulls me back into his arms and kisses me. It’s like all the years melt away and it’s only Chance and me, our whole lives ahead of us. He moves us so I’m pressed against a thick post, one that goes from the ground up to the roof. There, Chance only strips us bare enough to get inside me.

When he plunges deep, my legs wrapped around his waist, I cry out his name. It’s the only one I want from my l lips.

“Fuck, sweetheart. I’ll never get enough of this. Never want you to leave.” He pulls back, fills me again. “You’re mine.” Again. “I love you.” Again. “You’re moving here.” Again. “Forever.”

If fucking me into agreement is his plan, it’s working. I want to be with him. On this ranch as we planned all those years ago, under a blanket of stars.

“Yes,” I whimper and again he makes me come.

We come together.

He holds me, our breaths ragged, our foreheads touching.

“Marry me.”

I clench around him and he growls.

I stroke his face and he lifts his head so his blue eyes meet mine.

“Marry me,” he says again.

“This is how you ask me?” I whisper.

A smile tips up the corner of his sweaty face. “I’m inside you. What better place can I be to ask you to be my wife?”

I can’t argue, really.

“It’s a little late in coming. Fifteen years. I meant it then. I mean it now. Be my wife. Make me the luckiest man.”

I blink back tears. Nod.

“Is that a yes?” he asks, his deep voice laced with hope.

“Yes. It’s a yes.”

He pulls back and thrusts into me again.

“Yes.” I say again. And all the while he fucks me again. I’ve only ever wanted to be Mrs. Chance Bridger. The truth is out. Nothing stands in our way.

Chance is finally mine and I’m his.

Forever.

EPILOGUE

CHANCE

“I think a shot of the good stuff will calm all our nerves,” Miles says, grabbing the bottle of twenty-five year Macallan from the bar.