Total pages in book: 52
Estimated words: 51744 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 172(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51744 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 172(@300wpm)
Pulling back, he kisses along my jaw. “Remember when we used to make out in the hay loft?”
I smile through my tears and nod.
“You think if I take you up there, you’ll let me go all the way this time?”
I can’t help but laugh.
“Maybe.”
He pulls me along to the ladder and I climb first. I know he’s looking at my ass as he follows me close behind.
Once we’re in the loft, he pulls me back into his arms and kisses me. It’s like all the years melt away and it’s only Chance and me, our whole lives ahead of us. He moves us so I’m pressed against a thick post, one that goes from the ground up to the roof. There, Chance only strips us bare enough to get inside me.
When he plunges deep, my legs wrapped around his waist, I cry out his name. It’s the only one I want from my l lips.
“Fuck, sweetheart. I’ll never get enough of this. Never want you to leave.” He pulls back, fills me again. “You’re mine.” Again. “I love you.” Again. “You’re moving here.” Again. “Forever.”
If fucking me into agreement is his plan, it’s working. I want to be with him. On this ranch as we planned all those years ago, under a blanket of stars.
“Yes,” I whimper and again he makes me come.
We come together.
He holds me, our breaths ragged, our foreheads touching.
“Marry me.”
I clench around him and he growls.
I stroke his face and he lifts his head so his blue eyes meet mine.
“Marry me,” he says again.
“This is how you ask me?” I whisper.
A smile tips up the corner of his sweaty face. “I’m inside you. What better place can I be to ask you to be my wife?”
I can’t argue, really.
“It’s a little late in coming. Fifteen years. I meant it then. I mean it now. Be my wife. Make me the luckiest man.”
I blink back tears. Nod.
“Is that a yes?” he asks, his deep voice laced with hope.
“Yes. It’s a yes.”
He pulls back and thrusts into me again.
“Yes.” I say again. And all the while he fucks me again. I’ve only ever wanted to be Mrs. Chance Bridger. The truth is out. Nothing stands in our way.
Chance is finally mine and I’m his.
Forever.
Epilogue
CHANCE
* * *
“I think a shot of the good stuff will calm all our nerves,” Miles says, grabbing the bottle of twenty-five year Macallan from the bar.
“Have I taught you nothing?” I grab the bottle from him. “You don’t shoot this. You savor it.”
“Still,” Austin pipes in, “I could use a little something. I can’t believe we’re all about to become husbands.”
“Not what Jonathan Bridger expected when he set up his will, huh?” I asked them.
“Our father can fuck off,” Miles said.
“With the DOJ case proving he did everything they said, it’s over. A fine to Bridger Corp and that’s it. Pretty hard to put a dead man in jail,” Austin says.
Yeah, it’s all over. The DOJ found our father guilty, but it didn’t go any further than a fine. Whatever. We all left the fucker behind in our minds and hearts.
I take three lowball glasses out of the cabinet and pour one finger, no more, of the scotch into each.
“How do you think the girls are doing?” Miles looks over his shoulder as if he can see them. Which he can’t, since they’re not here. He’s totally whipped. I can’t mess with him about it because I am too. All three of us are.
“They’re fine,” I say. “I just saw Avery and her mom. They said they had a great time at breakfast with Carly, Sadie, and their mothers. It’s amazing to me how well they all get along.”
“Damned good thing.” Miles takes the glass I hand him. “Since they’re all going to be living under one roof. At least this house is a ranch-style mansion. But who gets the master suite?”
“Uh…who do you think?” I hand Austin his scotch.
He swirls the amber liquid in the glass. “I don’t rightfully care if Chance gets it. Every bedroom in this house has a private bath. In a way, they’re all master suites. Besides, once this year is up, I’m going to build a house for Carly and me over on the eastern side of the ranch, where she can be closer to the animals.”
“I suppose I can’t complain if you take the master,” Miles says. “After all, you’re the one who had to live with our sire. He screwed us all over, for sure, but you got the worst of it, being separated from your woman for so long, and missing out on your son’s first fourteen years.”
I take a drink of the smooth liquor, let its smokiness coat my throat. “I’ll never forgive him for that. Damn.” I shake my head, pushing down the anger and ensuring all I think about is what I have now. “Part of me still can’t believe it. I have a son. A fucking son!”