His movements turn shorter, more desperate. His gravelly cries join mine. I sense that he’s close, but I am too.
Slipping a hand between us, I finger myself, tracing hungry designs on my clit while he plunders me. Inside me his cock twitches, just once. He groans through gritted teeth and pummels me all the harder, balls slapping my behind.
“Yes,” I hiss, the utterance more of an exhalation than a word. My eyes roll back in my head as my other hand massages his ass. Between us, I swirl my clit, full of need.
My tunnel caves in on itself with my release. It’s not only my insides that spasm with this orgasm, but the whole of my being. Every synapse and nerve ending is alight, opening and clamping shut in glorious ecstasy that makes my ears ring.
Oliver is right there with me, urged over the cliff of his climax by my own. He buries himself to the hilt in my warm folds, jaw tight, cock dancing within me. I lift my hips and grind into the sensation, feeling it stoke my fires.
He gives me all his weight just like he’s given me all of his heart. How can I do anything but give him mine? I knot my arms around the expanse of him and press him to me.
And then we are mortals again, all sweat and bone and spent fluid, bodies limp with the happiest kind of exhaustion. Neither of us moving except for the rise and fall of our chests, he quietly turns soft and slides out of me.
I don’t know how much time passes, or even if we slip in and out of slumber as the evening turns to darkness. But at some point Oliver raises his head to look at me through the night, eyes shining with the light coming in through the windows.
“I love you, Emilia Romano,” he says, voice thick with emotion. “Be mine?”
I grasp his head in both hands, feeling my own tears rise once again. “Always,” I answer, happy to find myself so wrong about such a terribly beautiful thing as love.
Epilogue
Emmy
When I finally receive the text we’ve all been waiting for for weeks, I can’t stop myself from giving a little squee and jumping up and down on the spot as I read it.
Oliver hears me happy dancing in the great room because he emerges from his study, eyebrows raised. “Is it happening?” he asks, just as invested as me and the rest of my friends in the most eagerly anticipated event in our shared lives.
I feel like I can’t move my lips fast enough to emit the words at the speed they wish to explode from my mouth. “It’s happened!” I give a little shiver of delight. “And they’re ready for us to meet him.”
“Wow, that was fast,” he says, both of us heading to the mudroom. “Did you even know Amelia was in labor?”
I shake my head. “When she texted a few hours ago, she said she thought she might be having mild contractions, but nothing exciting.”
He grabs the car keys, knowing I’ll be too excited to drive. I grab the present I’ve had wrapped and waiting for Amelia, Tatum, and their newborn son for weeks, then we both load into the SUV.
We ride in silence, taking in the cloudless morning sky. I ponder all the ways my life has changed in the last handful of weeks. I’ve moved in with Oliver and am working on letting him into my heart more and more each day. It’s not always easy to let my past beliefs go, but it’s definitely worth it. The fear still rears its head at times, but now I know how to better defeat it.
The most surprising thing about joining my life with Oliver’s is how natural it all feels. I thought it might be jarring, but mostly it’s just so normal — like it’s meant to be.
I love it. I love him. And I know how damn lucky I am to be able to share my life with this man.
We turn into the hospital lot and Oliver steers the car into a parking space. I’ve got my hand on the door handle before he’s even killed the engine, but the weight of his hand on my forearm makes me pause.
“Em,” he says, voice strangely somber given the situation, “before we go in, there’s something I’d like to ask you.”
I lean back in my seat, trying not to let my impatience show. I have no idea what could be so important when there’s a brand new human to meet, but I keep that to myself.
“I love you,” he says, tangling his fingers with mine.
I smile back, confused about what could be coming next. “I love you too.”
“I know things have moved fast with us, but it feels right, you know?” He ducks his head and I realize with a shock that he’s nervous, practically squirming in his seat. The fact that something’s got my badass prosecutor of a lover concerned earns him my full attention.
“I was just thinking the same thing,” I reply, squeezing his hand.
He smiles at me, but it doesn’t quite reach his gray eyes. “I don’t want to rush you, or push you into anything you’re not ready for.”
“I don’t feel that way in the least.” I lean closer. “What’s this about?”
Oliver continues as if he hasn’t heard me, almost like he’s reciting a speech he rehearsed. “I’m not a young man — well,” he amends, seeing my look of protest, “not as young as I once was. When I know what I want, I don’t like to waste time.”
I nod. I’ve seen his decisiveness in action. For someone who can overthink just about everything, it’s both comforting and exhilarating to witness.
He dips his opposite hand into the pocket of his charcoal slacks. Without letting me see what he’s withdrawn, he folds it into my hand and closes my fingers over it. “So,” he says, a shaky smile playing across his lips, “would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
It’s as if we’re suddenly moving through water. When I peel my fingers back and look down to see what’s in my palm, my movements feel so slow, but in a dreamy sort of way, free of frustration. We are suspended in time — in one of the most important moments of my life.
The sleek platinum curve of a ring gleams up at me. The bright sunlight refracts in the solitaire Tiffany cut diamond.
Mouth falling open, my eyes find Oliver’s. He waits, forehead creased with worry but face alight with hope — and love.
God, I am the luckiest woman alive to have a man who loves me the way Oliver does. And while we don’t have a lot of history together — yet — I’ve seen him in action enough to know that he’s solid. If we ever end up on a therapist’s couch, it’ll be to work things out together, not beg for quick fixes or reasons to break up.
One thing I’ve learned from this experience is it wasn’t that love was wrong for me — it’s that I’m a forever kind of girl. I don’t want casual romance or one night flings.
I want the real thing, steady and true.
And I’ve found it in Oliver.
“Of course,” I say, laughter bubbling from me. “Of course I’ll be your wife.”
He seizes my face and crushes his lips to mine until we’re both breathless and panting. Then he plucks the ring from my palm and slides it onto my finger.
“It’s a perfect fit,” I say in wonder. “How did you know?”
“I stole one of the rings from your jewelry tray,” he replies, grinning. “The jeweler matched the size.”