Page 161 of The Promise Of You

I stay in the beauty of his eyes for a little longer, then glance around, returning to the irises in which I want to get lost. “I see open fields and faraway mountains and nothing around for miles and miles.”

“How does it make you feel?”

“Free,” I answer without thinking.

“That’s my wife. That’s my Clover. I want you to feel free.” He twirls me around once more and sets me on the platform. “This piece of land is ours if you want it. Over there,” he points, “is Canada. Over to this side, is Lake Champlain and beyond that, New York. And this peak is Mount Mansfield, the highest in Vermont.”

I look around, astonished.

“Way over there, on a clear day, from the window of our master suite upstairs, you'll see Mount Washington–the highest in the Northeast. You deserve nothing less than the top of the world. Let me give it to you.”

I let my tears fall freely. I’m not hiding anything anymore.

I almost lost the love of my life because I hid my insecurities, my needs.

Not anymore.

I’m in Boston mode, no bullshit, nothing hidden, and at least with Justin, I’m staying myself for the rest of my life.

So I give him my tears, and my desperation, and my needs, molding my body to his.

He groans. “Stay right here.” He jumps off the platform, disappears under it, and pulls an inflated mattress up, then a picnic basket. He climbs back up the log stairs, sets me on my back on the mattress. A shooting star falls through the deepening sky.

“Make a wish,” I whisper.

He lays on top of me, lifting himself just enough on his elbows. “Got all my wishes.” His hands frame my face, his thumbs rubbing alongside my jaw, his eyes deep in mine. “But I know I come with baggage. An unborn child that’s not yours. The child’s mother… well, we know who she is. Hopefully she won’t be repeating that shit, once I have a talk with her, but I can’t guarantee it. What I can promise you, is that you are the center of my universe. Always have, always will be. What I can hope, is that you’ll help me raise that child, and we’ll give it brothers and sisters soon. But that’s up to you… So… is it still yes?” he asks me after a long while of me just gazing into the green of his eyes.

“Y-yes what?” A shooting star traces to his side, then another. Perfect.

The green in his eyes deepens, and his voice comes out raw. “Will you marry me, Clover?”

My heart ba-booms. Do I want to spend the rest of my life with this perfect man? Be cherished by him? Loved by him and love him in return? His limbs tighten around my body, thighs encapsulating my legs, arms cradling me into him, cock digging into my belly.

Another shooting star above us.

Perfection.

His breath tickles the top of my hair, his salty scent turns me to mush. I moan and press my hips harder against him.

He growls. “Babe.”

“Mmm?”

“Need a clear answer.”

An answer? Oh, right. ‘Will you marry me, Clover.’ “God yes.”

He takes my mouth in his, wraps one hand on my breast. I keep my eyes open just to see his eyelids hood, then close entirely, the abandon in his features so moving I nearly cry. How could I ever doubt him? From the first time he laid eyes on me, I’ve always been the only one for him.

We make quick work of our clothes. Justin runs a finger through my center and mutters, “Fuck, you’re already wet for me.”

“Just take me,” I whimper. “Please.” I grab him, and his hot and pulsing cock in my hand almost sends me over the edge. He’s ready to explode, all for me. Only for me. I let go of him, wrap my legs around his hips, and pull him inside me.

“I’m not gonna last long,” he grunts. “Fuck, Chloe, you feel so good.”

He dips his mouth to my nipple, and I cry out my release, shaking deliciously under him, not knowing if the shooting stars are in my head or over him.

Then he pumps in and out of me, harder, faster, until he stills and reaches his orgasm with a grunt, and I get to witness the beauty of him coming undone for me, once again.

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