Page 64 of Best of Me

My lips tilt up. “You mean when I accused you of paying for sex?”

Duke leans down into my space and nips at my lips. “Ha-ha. Real funny.”

“I thought so,” I murmur, slanting my lips over his, tugging him closer to me by the front of his shirt, causing us both to topple back onto his bed. Our kiss quickly moves from sweet to scorching as Duke settles between my bent legs, shifting his hips so his hard-on rubs against the soft silk of my panties.

With great difficulty, I swallow back my moan. This man…he knows exactly how to touch me to set me off like a rocket.

“Today, tomorrow, and forever, Cricket.” He says the words with a sureness and I know exactly what he means. He loves me the same way I love him—unconditionally. If ever there had been a moment of doubt over how he feels for me, that moment is long gone. In its place, there’s nothing but the rightness of Duke and I.

I reach down between us, fumbling as I try and unbuckle his belt. Duke bats my hands away and I pout. “Patience, baby,” he murmurs as he stands, stripping away every stitch of clothing, taking care to put away his duty belt somewhere safe.

“No time to be patient. I need to feel you now,” I moan at the thought. “I need to feel us. Together. The way we’re meant to be.”

He climbs back onto the bed and settles between my legs. “I’m gonna love you now, Cricket, real good.” With a thrust of his hips, he pushes inside me; stretching and filling me in the best way.How is it that every time between us is better than the last?

A strangled curse falls from his lips as he rocks his hips, my own lifting to meet him stroke for stroke. Any lingering soreness from my accident falls to the wayside, pure bliss replacing it as he continues driving into me.

Duke Kincaid is one-thousand percent the man I’m meant to be with, and as he licks at the hollow of my throat, his body trembling, I know that I’m the woman he’s meant to be with as well.

“Fuck, you feel so good, baby,” he groans into my neck.

Words fail me, my body steadily cresting the peak toward the orgasm I’m so desperately in need of.

“I’m close,” he grunts, quickening his pace. I answer his punishing tempo, matching him thrust for thrust until we’re both crying out our release, falling over the edge and into oblivion at the same time.

Once we both come back down to earth, Duke rolls off of me and onto his back. Chest still heaving he says, “Love you.”

I roll to my side, laying my head on his chest and tangling my legs with his. As horrible and as terrifying as the wreck was, here with him, I only feel happiness. “Love you, too,” I sigh contentedly as I trace my finger up and down Duke’s strong, muscled chest.

“Marry me, Cricket?”

My heart lurches in my chest. “Th-that’s your orgasm talking.” I laugh lightly, trying to mask the cyclone of emotions bearing down on me—a dizzying mixture of hope, joy, and disbelief.

“Nah, I mean it. I’m gonna marry you one day. Just wait, baby, you’ll see.” He tugs me closer and kisses the top of my head. “But until then stay here. With me.”

“I am here with you.”

“No, baby. That’s not what I mean. I want—need—more than the occasional sleepover. I want your toothbrush next to mine, your clothes in my closet, your hair ties scattered all over the house. I want my sheets to smell like you—like us, because they’re ours.”

I blink my tired eyes, wondering if I heard him right. “You…you want me to move in?”

“Yeah, baby, I do. Let’s make this house a home.”

His words hit me right in the feels.A home.I’ve never truly had a home before; the closest I’ve ever come is with Ashley in college. But this—this is different. It’s more. I want all of the things he does. I want to fuss at him for leaving the seat up, I want to fall asleep with him each night and wake up to him every morning. I want all of these things and more. Because Duke, he ismy home. He’s my safety, my comfort, my heart, my soul. Duke Kincaid is my everything. “I’ll do it,” I whisper, shifting up to press a kiss to his chest right over his heart.

“Do what?” Now he’s the one asking for clarification.

“Move in with you, but I have conditions.”

He snorts out a single laugh, the sound warming me from the inside out. “Of course, you do. Let’s hear ‘em.”

“First, you have to promise to make me your special breakfast at least twice a week.”

“You got a thing for the way I make eggs and bacon, baby?”

“And toast. Don’t forget the toast.”

His body shakes with silent laughter. “Consider it done. What’s your second condition?”

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