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Because sure, there are details I don’t know yet, and surprises left to uncover—but I know Marigold. When we first laid eyes on each other all those months ago, something deep inside me sighed with relief, already knowing that she would be my home.
“Oh my god,” she mumbles now, letting me lead her out of the steamy bathroom and over to the sofa. The bed might be more comfortable, but the sofa’s near the fire. Warmth comes first. “Oh my god. I can’t believe we’re doing this.”
A smile breaks over my face, my cheeks aching with relief. I bundle my girl down onto the sofa, dragging a knitted blanket off one arm to toss it over her legs. “Is that a yes?”
Marigold presses her lips together and nods. She’s squirming on the sofa, fidgeting with nerves and excitement, and when our eyes clash—lightning strobes outside the window.
“I love you.” On second thought, I tear that blanket away and throw it at the wall. The towel follows, because fuck bundling up in layers to keep warm. That’s what skin-to-skin contact is for. “Christ, I love you so much. More than I ever thought possible. Come here, sweetheart.”
Marigold sniffles and smiles, but she’s shoving at me too, pushing me to sit down on the sofa and let her crawl into my lap. That weight settling over my thighs anchors me to the moment; lets me live in this dream. “Seriously, Flint. I’ve never seen you this chatty.”
Yeah, well, turns out I’ve got a lot to say—to Marigold, anyway. Thunder rumbles outside the cabin, rattling the walls and drowning out my heartfelt confessions to everything but her ears. I tell her how wrecked I was the first time I saw her; the way I’ve barely thought about anything else but her for months; the way she’s woken me up and made me feel alive again.
When I’m done pouring out my heart and soul, Marigold beams, reaching between us to notch my hard length at her entrance. She’s slick already, hot and wet and inviting, and it takes every ounce of my willpower not to thrust inside her already.
Don’t you dare, I tell myself. Not gonna rush this moment for anything.
“Yes,” Marigold declares, the fire crackling behind her. She’s bright and happy and calm, like tonight’s drama never happened at all. “Yes, you big grump. I’ll marry you and stay.”
But we both hold our breath as Marigold sinks down on my cock. Both groan and gasp and grip each other tight, reveling in how goddamn good it feels, how perfectly we fit, how this thing building between us is a force of nature, as strong as the storm crashing against the mountainside.
Marigold’s hips roll, her knees wedged into the sofa cushions on either side of me, and with every drag of her body along my shaft, my gut clenches tighter and my nerves sing out.
So good.
So electric. So right.
She feels it too, especially when I find her clit with my thumb, rubbing that sensitive bud until she tosses her head back with a cry, slamming harder and faster down onto my lap. Frenzied and wild and so, so perfect.
“No more running into storms,” I grit out, sweat trickling down my spine as I thrust up into the tightest heaven. My heart booms in my chest.
Marigold grins up at the ceiling, and her nails dig into my shoulders. “We’ll see.”
And I growl and grab her hips, slamming so deep inside that she cries out, while Marigold laughs and pants and gives as good as she gets. If this is how we settle scores from now on, I’ll have to tease her more often.
“Come inside me,” Marigold gasps, playing her trump card, as white static fills my brain. I rub her clit in steady circles, pulse racing in my wrists, my throat, my cock, until her body flutters around me and clamps down hard. Thank Christ.
There’s barely any time to celebrate the victory—I’m coming so hard it hurts, my insides wrenched, filling my girl up with long, primal spurts until it spills out of her and drips on my thighs, while she gasps and bucks and moans my name. Shuddering on top of my lap as she jerks with pleasure.
Our bodies have locked together so tightly, it’ll be a wonder if we ever come apart.
But hey… maybe I never want to.
* * *
Two years later
“Move your elbow a little. Just, like, an inch to the left.”
The spring breeze ruffles my hair as I obey.
“Okay. So now… maybe look up? And smile?”
The sunshine this morning is bright and dazzling, and I can feel the awkwardness of my expression as I attempt a squinting smile up at the clouds.
Marigold snorts. “No, forget the smile. Go back to the broody default.”
Now that I can do. Awkward smile dropping away, I scowl up at the clouds like they’ve made a mess of my bar.
