Page 217 of Three Reckless Words

I want to see him off to prom.

I want him to come home to cakes and coffee and good conversation if he blows a science test or doesn’t nail down his first dream job—though with how bright he is, it’s not likely—and to celebrate his wins.

I’m honored Archer loves me that much, enough to give me the privilege of helping Colt grow up.

And with our own kids, I have zero doubts it’ll be smooth sailing.

Colt will always have Rina, of course, and I’m hopeful in time we’ll all get along.

She sent me flowers, which was unexpectedly nice. It makes me think maybe in the future we can get over—well, the fact that we’re sharing a family.

But daughters of my own…

“I hope they have your eyes,” I whisper, threading my hands through his thick dark hair. “And I hope they’ll be just as clever as you.”

“As long as they’re as kind and intelligent as their mother,” he says, nuzzling his nose against mine.

We’re still lying on the bed.

Although my body hums with need, and I can feel him throbbing against me, there’s this lovely stillness.

“I’m so pumped to share a life with you,” I whisper.

“I hope they have your hair.”

“Archer!” I laugh, and he kisses me.

He’s greedier this time, though, his tongue sweeping into my mouth, stealing my many questions about the future.

There are so many things to think about.

Will we keep the same house? Where will we get married? Does he want an official engagement announcement?

None of that matters now.

Today, there’s just us, together and whole.

He slides his hands down my waist, finding the hem of my pants and toying with slipping his fingers under.

“I love you,” I say, “but if you draw this out, I will lose my patience.”

“What will you do, Sugarbee?”

I pretend to think, tightening my legs around him, rolling him over until his back is on the bed and I’m straddling him. Even through the material separating us, I can feel how big and hot he is, how much he needs this just as bad as I do.

“How about this?” I whisper.

His hands settle on my hips, squeezing until it hurts so deliciously.

“Can’t say I mind.”

I push his shirt up and reach for his jeans, ripping open the button, the zipper, and tugging them off.

He helps me, kicking away his pants and boxers and quickly stripping off his shirt until he’s gloriously mine.

Then, it’s my turn.

Passion erupts in this frantic movement as he yanks off my shirt. It gets tangled in my hair, and we laugh as I fight to free it while he unhooks my bra.

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