Page 66 of Legacy's Destiny

As they stepped into her bedroom, Echo shut the door behind them. The room was just as personal as the rest of her apartment, with warm lighting casting a soft glow over a quilted bedspread and pillows stacked invitingly against the headboard. A small bedside table held a lamp, a worn paperback, and a glass of water. Everything about it spoke of her—practical, welcoming, and effortlessly beautiful.

She turned to him, her expression a mix of anticipation and vulnerability. Taking a step closer, Echo placed her hands on his chest, and her eyes told him everything he needed to know.

“Sex. Now.”

Echo’s voice was low and demanding as she pushed his T-shirt up, her eyes burning with intensity. Who was he to argue? Deacon tugged the shirt over his head and kicked off his tennis shoes while she angrily attacked his belt.

“Condoms,” he said, his voice a mix of practicality and urgency as he reached for his wallet.

She stilled his hand and smirked. “Got us covered. Birth control. Strip. Now.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He barely got the words out before her shirt joined the growing pile of clothes. She paused, wrestling with the fabric when her hand got caught in the sleeve. She growled in frustration, yanking it free with a victorious huff, and Deacon couldn’t help the grin that split his face.

She shoved him backward before wriggling out of her slacks, revealing a utilitarian white bra and panties set that, for some reason, made his blood run hotter than anything lacy or elaborate ever could. As she stepped free of her clothes, he fumbled with his jeans, hopping on one foot toward the bed in his haste to strip.

“Careful!” She laughed, reaching out to steady him just as he lost his balance and toppled backward onto the bed. Aloud CRACK followed the impact as the bed frame gave way, dropping them unceremoniously to the floor. The headboard teetered and fell forward, narrowly missing his head.

For a moment, neither of them moved, wide-eyed and stunned. Then Echo’s gaze met his, and their laughter erupted, echoing off the walls. She collapsed onto the mattress beside him, clutching her sides as the sound of pounding from below made them laugh even harder.

“Oh my God, Mrs. Johansen is going to murder us,” she wheezed, slapping her hand over her mouth in a futile attempt to muffle the sound.

Deacon glanced at the clock. “It’s almost midnight. She better find some earplugs because she’s going to get more disturbances.”

He rolled over, pinning her beneath him with a playful growl as he nuzzled her neck. Her laughter melted into a sigh, soft and breathy.

“I missed you so much,” she murmured, her hands tracing the lines of his shoulders.

“I missed you more.” Deacon’s lips brushed hers, the kiss slow and consuming, pulling all the air from the room.

Her legs cradled him as their bodies found a rhythm born of longing and love. The way she moved against him, kissed him with abandon, and looked at him as though he was her entire world—it was enough to make his heart stutter.

The first time was fast and desperate, a month of fantasies and frustrations exploding into reality. When he entered her, his breath caught, his chest tightening at the overwhelming sensation of being so close to her. He closed his eyes, needing a moment to rein in the storm inside him.

When he opened them again, it was to find her gazing up at him, her expression soft, filled with trust and love. This woman—his woman—was going to be his wife. The thought filled him with a sense of awe and purpose.

As her body tensed beneath him, the flush of her skin and the way her lips parted in a soft gasp burned into his memory. She was breathtaking, and when she shattered, the sight of her, the feel of her, pushed him over the edge.

When it was over, he rested his forehead against hers, both of them catching their breath.

“You’re going to marry me,” he whispered, his voice rough but certain.

Echo smiled, her fingers brushing against the stubble on his jaw. “I am.” She lifted her left hand, the engagement ring catching the dim light. “But honestly, this ring is way too flashy.”

“That ring is flashy for a reason.” He kissed her knuckles, his lips lingering. “It tells the world you’re taken. Period.”

She tilted her head, pretending to study it. “So, this is my ‘Sorry, boys, I’m off the market’ ring?”

“Exactly.”

She laughed softly, though her brows furrowed. “Well, since no one’s ever hit on me before, I think we could probably downsize.”

“Nope.” Deacon turned her face toward his, his gaze firm. “No downsizing, no trade-ins, no smaller stones. I can afford it, and I want you to have it.”

Her eyes misted, and she stared at the ring for a moment before looking back at him. “We’re really doing this. We’re getting married.”

“We are,” he said, leaning in to kiss her. “And you’ve got a wedding to plan.”

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