Page 53 of Tides Of Your Love (Riviera Shores #3)

THE VILLA WAS QUIET once the others left.

No more Chloe and Emma’s giggles echoing off the marble. No Simon explaining soccer to Nicole and insisting she grasp the concept of offside. No Walter grumping under his breath that Greece was beautiful, but California lacked nothing.

Now it was only the hush of the sea and the rustle of linen curtains in the late afternoon breeze.

Now it was just us.

Owen was out on the terrace, forearms resting on the railings, his shoulders under the tee relaxed after weeks of preparations and training and matches. The man I loved was the picture of tranquility now that the World Cup was over and he’d gotten to watch the final with all of us in the stadium.

We had a few days alone here before flying back. And the quiet around us let something in me settle, something that hadn’t fully taken root until now.

All of this was real. Him. Me. Us.

This was ours.

In one of his team tees, I leaned against the bedroom doorframe, letting myself take him in.

“I liked you in red,” I said softly. Even though our national team had lost, the sight of him on the pitch in that color was carved on my heart.

He glanced back at me, smiling. “I like you in nothing.”

“Careful,” I muttered, but I was already walking toward him, already smiling.

We watched the sea for a minute, like we’d done so many times before, except now it felt like a full circle instead of a pause. He reached for my hand, and I let our fingers tangle.

“Can I ask you something?” he said, dragging his free hand through his hair, gaze on the water.

“Anything.”

“Did I scare you out in the cove?”

“Why do you think that?”

He turned to face me. And there it was. The secret smile. “Why are you answering a question with a question?”

“Why do you think?”

Owen chuckled and pulled me in against his side, wrapping his arm around my shoulders .

“I’ll need an answer at some point,” he said after a beat.

“To what?” I held back a chuckle.

He dipped his face and kissed me. He kissed me like he’d get his answer that way, even though we hadn’t stopped touching all day. His hands slid under the hem of my shirt—his shirt—fingers brushing the skin at the top of my thighs, and when I gasped, he groaned into my mouth.

I pushed his shirt off, fingertips dragging across the planes of his stomach and chest, and he lifted me in one smooth motion. My legs wrapped around his waist, my arms looped behind his neck. I wasn’t weightless, but in his arms, I felt like I could float.

The doors to the bedroom were still open, white curtains billowing like they were part of the moment. He carried me through them without breaking the kiss, without fumbling.

The sheets were cool under my bare back, and Owen’s mouth was already on my collarbone.

His lips moved down my throat, his hands spreading wide across my back like he couldn’t get me close enough. I tightened my legs around him, pulling him in harder, deeper, until he groaned against my skin.

“You drive me fucking wild,” he graveled, his voice echoing in me.

I tugged at his waistband, greedy for him. His breath roughened when I slipped my hand lower.

Clothes disappeared like they were never there in the first place. His mouth followed the trail his hands made, slow and reverent, until I was arching off the bed, one hand fisted in the sheets, the other in his hair .

He looked up at me then, blue eyes dark, a stormy sea of hunger and need. “Tell me what you want.”

“You,” I whispered. “All of you.”

He came over me like a wave, kissing me slow at first, then deeper, harder, until there was nothing left between us but sweat and need. My legs hitched higher on his hips, and he slid into me with a groan.

We moved together, messy and perfect, as if this many feelings was too much for our bodies to hold, so we let them out through touch, pouring them into each other.

His hand slid between us, fingers finding where I needed him most, and everything inside me burned, desperate for release.

“Look at me,” he said, his voice rough. “I want to see you fall apart.”

I did. Completely.

My body pulsed around him, and he cursed as he followed, burying his face in my neck as if he were hiding from how hard it hit.

We lay tangled in the aftermath, my heart thundering, his breath ragged against my skin. The sea whispered outside the open doors, the afternoon glow warm around us.

And then, still inside me, still holding me like he couldn’t let go, he tilted his head back so he could look at me and whispered, “Marry me.”

“Yes,” I whispered against his lips.

He huffed a breathless chuckle against mine, our hearts beating together.

Later, when we were wrapped in sheets and each other, he reached for the bedside drawer and pulled out a box .

He opened it. A ring. It looked simple at first glance—a round diamond on a platinum band. But then the light caught the hidden halo and the delicate line of diamonds along the band, and it sparkled like a secret. Quietly stunning. So unmistakably him . Us.

I stared at it, my chest tight with something too big for words.

“Just wanted to make it official,” he said with that smile. “You did say ‘yes’ before, right?”

I laughed through the happy tears that welled up again. “Of course I did.” And then, “When did you ...?”

“A day before our flight. Didn’t know when the right moment would be, but I knew it was you. Simon helped me pick it. He cried more than I did.”

A tearful laugh and a long kiss were my answer when he put the ring on my finger.

Outside, the sea hummed like the ocean back home.

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