"—and all the other random bullshit we argue about than you. No one in the fucking world. When you're ready, I'm going to marry you the way you deserve to be married and—"
"What does that even mean?" she asked with a huffy little laugh that meant she didn't enjoy this topic.
"It means you're getting a ring that will definitely have some Elvish writing on the inside and an over the top proposal that I promise won't involve a single Hobbit. We're going to eat a ton of cake samples and agonize over stupid shit like seating arrangements. My mother is going to throw you a big-ass bridal shower and she's going to live for the single purpose of making our day everything you've ever wanted. My sister will adopt you into her circle of no-bullshit, boss-lady friends and they'll throw you a filthy bachelorette party that will test all of my tolerance of such things. And when our day comes around, I'm going to wake up beside you and love you so hard that you walk down that aisle on shaky legs. I'm gonna love you like that on the good days and the bad days and all the ones in between. And I'm never, ever moving to Northern Ireland without you."
"That wasn't funny." She said this as she laughed—hard. "About Northern Ireland."
"Yeah, well, I wasn't joking when I said I was marrying you the way you deserved and you did not deserve that shit."
Still stopped in front of the open door, she said, "Let's not talk about Preston anymore. Although I will probably have to call him to get me an interview with that community activism organization. I think I want to learn more about that."
"I'll allow that." I gestured to the doorway. "What do you say, Jas? Are we doing this?"
She raked her teeth over her bottom lip. "Anything else? Or is that the whole high-handed plan?"
Because I couldn't take it anymore, I really could not, I set her bag inside and then scooped her into my arms. "High-handed, is it?"
"What the hell are you doing?"
"I'm moving things along," I replied as I headed for the bedroom. "It's too damn cold to stand on the front porch when there's a perfectly good bed waiting for us in here."
"Sometimes you are extremely ridiculous."
"And you're impossible. I still love you."
I felt her staring at me as I marched into the bedroom. I felt her gaze, warm but still a bit wary. Why wouldn't she be? Everyone else in her life let her down. They left, some more overtly than others, but they all left. I wasn't going to be one of them.
The clothes came off in a rush, both of us helping the other until we realized we were making it much more complicated, and finished the job on our own. The blankets and sheets came down as we climbed underneath, turning to face each other, to wrap ourselves in each other.
"I'm going to marry you the right way," I echoed, one hand on her outer thigh, the other coasting down her back. "I'm going to give you as many babies as you want, all the family you can handle. I meant it when I said you're going to belong to me, Peach, but you're also going to belong here. You already do. Understand?"
She reached between us, took my shaft in hand. It was very unfair, considering she intended for us to carry on a serious conversation while stroking me. "Is that what you want? A wedding and babies and everything? What happened to being alone? What happened to protecting your quiet, your space?"
Since that single minute of her palm sliding over my aching cock was too much, I climbed over her, caging her beneath me, and pried her thighs open. "You happened."
A laugh moved through her, up her chest and across her shoulders as it softened the anxious set of her jaw. "That doesn't seem like enough."
"And that's why I make the high-handed plans," I replied. "Because you're busy thinking you didn't crack open my world the day you came at me with a crowbar."
"That is not what took place and you know it."
I notched myself at her opening, my bare cockhead burning against the wet of her. "Is this what you want?" She stared down the length of her torso to where I held myself steady. When she didn't respond for a moment, I dragged my cock up, circling her clit. "You did, you know. You cracked everything open. I haven't been the same since."
"Is that a good thing?"
"It's the best thing."
She nodded, shifted her knees up to my hips, and said, "I haven't been the same either. I don't want to be the same. But I know I want you." I pushed inside her and watched as she arched back, parted her lips, breathed out a quiet sigh. "I don't hate you."
Her hips rolled, soon finding a rhythm, and I was sliding into her, a little deeper with each pass. "I never hated you." I pulled back before slamming in again. "Never once."
"Are you sure about that?" she asked, angling her hips to find the position she wanted.
"You know I am."
She hummed as my cock slipped out and over her clit. My brain wanted me to thrust into her and fuck her until neither of us could move but some other part reminded me to go slow, to savor this. She arched up and we stayed there, kissing, thrusting, whispering all the things we couldn't stop saying.
I love you. I've loved you for so long. I don't want to be without you.
We moved together, slow slow slow, and the only thing in the world for me was this woman.
"Lin. I need more," she groaned, clenching around me.
I shifted my hands to her waist and found a faster rhythm as I held her, my fingers driving hard into the soft of her skin. The early pulses of her orgasm triggered my muscle memory, the one that reminded my hips how to fuck in that quick, urgent way and made my cockhead unbelievably sensitive, and untwisted the tension of separation and distance and loss. The one that knew this woman was for me and I was for her, and nothing else mattered than the connection we shared right here, right now. I felt it in my balls, and then that sensation spiraled up and down my spine, right on the edge of explosion. Another thrust ripped a groan from me, and I matched it with a quick pinch to her clit.
"I want to feel you come for me now," I said against her ear. "Let go for me."
I pinched her again and her groan turned into a gusting wail. She was unbelievably hot and wet, and when her muscles fluttered around me, I folded her into my arms as I emptied myself into her. We rolled together, still panting and sighing, and I couldn't help but kiss every inch of skin I could reach. Those kisses told her how much I wanted her, how much I loved her, how she was mine.
And she was mine, in as great a way as any single person could possess another.
She glanced over her shoulder at me. "Twins and triplets run in your family, don't they?"
I grinned. "It passes on the mother's side."
She shifted until her back was flat against the mattress, her head pillowed on my arm. "I probably should've asked that before"—she gestured between us—"any of this."
"Would it matter?"
She gave me a wink that tightened my chest with how adorable it was, saying, "No. It wouldn't. I don't think there's anything that could change this."
I eased my arm out from under her and made my way to the bottom of the bed. "And you're all right with that?"