My eyes widen as I bend to look behind Carson only to find my brother’s white Arabian grazing beside Buttercup.
“Didn’t you say you were scared to death of horses?” I point out, still in disbelief that he rode one out here. “And I’m pretty sure your doctor would not clear you to ride a fricken horse four days after being stabbed.”
“I wasn’t stabbed . . . he grazed me with the knife. It was a surface wound at best. And hold the damn phone, I never said I was scared to death of horses.” Carson leans forward and, in a hushed voice, says, “Will you keep it down? Horses can smell fear. If Blizzard hears I’m terrified of him, all bets are off.”
Rolling my eyes at his antics, I rise to my tiptoes and tenderly kiss his lips, followed by the scruff on his chin and one on his Adam’s apple, before placing a final one on the hot skin just above his bandages.
“Why didn’t anyone call me?” I ask.
“I didn’t want you to worry. By the time you would’ve heard, I was probably discharged anyway. Now, help me feel better and answer my dang question.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were asking. It sounded more like a demand.”
“You’re right. I’m demanding you come home with me tomorrow night, Dream Girl.”
“Oh, Mr. Wilder,” I tut. “You’re lucky you’re so cute. Otherwise, you’d never get away with being so demanding.”
“I’m just trying to be assertive like all those alphaholes in those books you love.”
“What did I tell you? I love you just the way you are, Golden Boy. No fictional man could ever compare to how you make me feel. Take me home,” I whisper against his lips.
“Ma’am, yes, ma’am,” he drawls before sealing his lips with mine. I’d chuckle at how adorable his attempt at an accent was if I weren’t lost in the way it feels to finally have his mouth open for mine.
Each night we were apart, I yearned for this man. For the way he looks at me like I’m the most precious thing in the world. For the feel of his hands against my waist as he traces lines down my back. For the way his breath fans against the nape of my neck as he worships every inch of my body.
Carson lowers me down to the blanket I was sitting on. The two of us laugh as we stumble to the ground and fumble with each other’s clothes. Once I’m completely undressed, he hovers above me, and I moan with deep pleasure when I finally feel the weight of him against my skin once more. Roaming my eyes over every inch of his skin, my heart pounds in my chest when I spot something on his chest.
“What is this?” I ask, bringing my hand up as I trace the delicate black ink right above his heart that reads “Austen.”
“I missed feeling you against me. If I could, I’d wear you on my skin. But I can’t, because that’d be crazy, so I did the next best thing. I got a tattoo on my heart that makes me think of you every time I see it.”
Tears blur my vision as I try to put into words how much I love it—how much I lovehim.
Stealing the breath from my lungs, Carson kisses me so deeply, so passionately, that I can’t help the tears that escape the corners of my eyes. He laps them up from my cheeks before placing a scattering of kisses across my collarbones and chest.
“Please don’t ever leave me like that again,” he pleads with his forehead against my chest. “I was so scared I had lost you, Austen.”
Bracketing his face in my hands, I lock eyes with the most beguiling blues I’ve ever seen. “Never. You’ll never lose me,” I promise him.
And he won’t. Because his soul is stitched with mine—we’re intertwined. My heart was akin to his the moment we met in a way that only star-crossed lovers can be.
I know I’ll love and be loved by Carson with every breath I take for the rest of our lives. He has shown me what true love is, what it should always be: unconditional, selfless, intimate, empathetic, respectful, affectionate, secure, and unwavering.
Carson - November
“Idid a thing,” Dakota calls out to me after I walk in the house and hang up my winter coat. I just finished shoveling the few inches of snow we got overnight so we can leave for the airport soon to pick up her mom. Jolene is staying with us over Thanksgiving, which happens to be the same weekend Brody’s team plays in Minnesota. We’re excited to have the two of them join us for the holiday.
“Oh, yeah? What’s that?” I ask as I join her on the floor in front of the stone fireplace that she’s decorated with golden and orange foliage garland and a smattering of wooden pumpkins.
The front walk and entire main level are decked out with fall decor, and I’ve never felt more at home. I wonder if after we take down the Christmas decorations, she’ll let me convince her we should add more oranges and browns to our regular decor.
Dakota uncovers her legs and straddles my lap before I wrap us back up in her blanket. “I typed ‘the end’ on my first draft,” she says, her face lighting up with a dazzling smile that I match with one of my own.
“Stop. Are you for real?”
Nodding her head, she replies, “I am.”
I pump my fist before wrapping her up in a tight embrace. “I’m. So. Damn. Proud. Of. You,” I tell her, punctuating each word with a peppering of kisses on her face.
