Page 130 of Vital Signs

I started to move slowly at first, sinking down until the burn became stretch, until I could breathe through the pressure and claim the fullness of it. My muscles clenched around him, drawing him deeper with every breath, every shift of my hips. Hunter's hands locked onto me, fingers digging into my sides like he needed the grip to keep from flying apart. His gaze never left mine.

"Tell me you're mine." I began to ride him harder. "Tell me in every language you know."

His mouth parted, and the first vow fell from his lips in Mandarin. Then Korean, then English. Each one a brand, a prayer, a surrender.

And I took them all.

"I'm yours, Misha. Only yours, forever yours..."

Each declaration sent heat racing through my veins. I was close again already, the combination of his words and his cock inside me pushing me toward another peak.

"Touch me," I commanded, one of his hands leaving my hip to wrap around my cock. "Make your husband come on your cock."

Hunter's rhythm was perfect, matching my movements as he stroked me. "Come with me," I gasped. "Come inside me, lao gong. Fill me up."

Hunter's control snapped. His hips bucked up into me as his own orgasm hit, his cock pulsing inside me as he filled me with his cum. The feeling of him coming pushed me over the edge.

I came with a groan, my body clenching around his cock as waves of pleasure crashed through me. When the tremors finally subsided, I collapsed forward onto his chest.

"Holy shit," Hunter finally managed, voice wrecked and raw.

I settled against him, pressing my face to his neck. "You okay?"

"More than okay. I haven't spoken Chinese like that since I was a kid. It felt like remembering how to breathe."

"Languages come back when they're tied to strong emotion," I said softly. "Love. Pleasure. Pain. They bypass all the barriers we build."

We lay tangled together afterward, Hunter's breathing gradually slowing against my chest. The room felt different now, charged with possibility instead of just heat. We'd crossed an invisible line that couldn't be uncrossed.

"So are we engaged now?" he asked finally.

The question stopped my breath. After Roche, I'd convinced myself that permanence was impossible. I was convinced thattrust was too dangerous, that love was just another kind of cage. But this was Hunter. Hunter, who'd watched me kill someone and called me husband in response. Hunter, who'd chosen me over drugs, over safety, over sanity.

"I don't know. Do you want to be?" I asked, because I needed to hear him choose this with full knowledge of who I was. What I was capable of.

Hunter was quiet for a long moment. "You made me want to stay alive. Made me want to be the kind of person worth saving."

"You were always worth saving."

"Not to me. Not until you." His smile was soft, genuine, and completely certain. "Yeah, I want to be engaged. I want to marry you, to build something real with you. I want to call my parents and tell them I've found someone who loves me, and that I’m sober."

My throat tightened. "They're going to have opinions about me."

"They're going to love you," Hunter said firmly. "Because you brought me back to them. Because you gave them their son back." He paused. "Will you help me call them? When I'm ready?"

"Of course." I pressed a kiss to his forehead. "We'll face them together. Husband and husband."

The words felt right. Natural. Like they'd been waiting for us to grow into them.

"That's it? No dramatic proposal?"

"We're practical people who've been through hell and know what we want." I pulled him closer. "Besides, you already called me husband. In Chinese. I'd say that's binding enough."

Hunter's laugh vibrated against my chest. "My mom would have opinions about the order of operations."

"We'll get her a ring to make up for it," I said. "When you're ready to call them."

The silence was comfortable, weighted with possibility rather than fear. "I love you," Hunter said suddenly. "All of you. The parts that heal and the parts that kill."