Page 108 of The Sniper

He paused, his eyes locking on mine, dark and searching, as if he could see straight through to my soul. His hands stilled on my hips, the weight of his gaze pinning me as surely as the cuffs above my head. “Hallie Mae,” he said, voice low and rough, like gravel underfoot. “I don’t just want you for tonight. I want you forever.” He leaned closer, his breath warm against my lips. “Marry me. Be mine in every way, every day, for the rest of our lives.”

My heart stopped, a sob catching in my throat—not from fear, but from the raw, unshakable truth of it. “Noah,” I whispered, tears prickling my eyes. “Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

His mouth curved into a rare, unguarded smile, and he kissed me fiercely, like he was sealing a vow. Then, with a tenderness that broke me open, he entered me slowly, filling me with a heat that stole my breath, his hands gripping my hips as he set a rhythm—deep, possessive, unrelenting. The cuffs held me in place, amplifying the intensity, my body yielding to his as pleasure built, sharp and overwhelming. His mouth found mine, swallowing my cries, his movements growing urgent, our bodies locked in a dance that felt like it could burn the world down.

When release came, it shattered me—waves of heat and light, my voice breaking on his name. He followed moments later, a low groan against my neck, his body shuddering as he held me close, still joined, our breaths mingling in the quiet.

He unbuckled the cuffs gently, kissing the faint markson my wrists, pulling me against his chest. I curled into him, sated, my heart still racing.

Noah shifted, propping himself on an elbow, his gaze unreadable but soft. “I have something for you.”

I blinked. “You’ve already ruined me, and asked me to marry you. What more could you give?”

He reached for the nightstand, pulling out a folded paper. I sat up, the sheet cool in my hand, the realty office seal catching my eye. My heart stopped.

“Is this …?”

“A lot,” he said. “Isle of Palms. Close to the water. Private enough to build something real.”

I looked up, stunned. “You want to build a house?”

“With you.”

My throat tightened, words caught behind the shock. “I’ve been dreaming about that. Swinging hammers. Laying brick. Building it, not just buying something finished.”

His grin was slow, certain. “Then that’s exactly what we’ll do.”

I laughed, joy and disbelief tangling together. “Just one question.”

“Yeah?”

“Can we have a porch swing?”

“Sweetheart,” he said, leaning in to kiss me slow, “we can have ten.”

And just like that, the future wasn’t far off. It was here. It was us. And it was only beginning.

I woketo sunlight spilling through the curtains, Noah’s arm draped across my waist, his breath warm against my neck. The memory of last night searedthrough me—his proposal, the cuffs, the way he’d unraveled me with a hunger that left me trembling and whole. My wrists bore faint pink marks, a private reminder of where he’d taken me apart. I traced them, smiling softly. I was his, utterly, and the promise of forever felt like it was already here.

I slipped from bed quietly, not wanting to wake him, and tiptoed to the bathroom. The mirror showed a woman transformed—cheeks flushed, eyes alight with something fierce and free. I splashed water on my face, but the ache between my thighs and the flutter in my chest kept last night alive. Noah had awakened something in me, a wildness I hadn’t known I possessed.

Back in the bedroom, he was awake, leaning on one elbow, sheets low on his hips. His gaze roamed over me, dark and possessive, sparking heat in my core. “Morning, sweetheart,” he said, voice gravelly with sleep.

I crawled onto the bed, straddling him, my hands splaying across his chest. “Morning, fiancé.”

He grinned, slow and wicked, his hands gripping my thighs, thumbs tracing circles that sent shivers through me. “Keep saying that, and we’re not leaving this bed.”

I leaned down, kissing him softly, teasing, pulling back when he tried to deepen it. His growl vibrated against my lips, and in a flash, he flipped us, pinning me beneath him, his weight grounding me in the best way.

“You’re trouble, Hallie Mae,” he murmured, nipping at my jaw, my throat, his stubble grazing my skin, making me arch into him.

“Then make me pay for it,” I whispered, voice thick with want.

He didn’t hold back. His mouth claimed mine, fierce and demanding, his hands sliding under the shirt I’d stolen from him, stripping it off in one fluid motion. Igasped as cool air hit my skin, then moaned as his lips found my breast, teasing with slow, deliberate licks that had me writhing. He savored every reaction, every hitch in my breath, until I was pleading, my nails scoring his shoulders.

“Noah,” I gasped, desperate. “Please.”

He met my eyes, his own burning. “You want me to ruin you again?”

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