Page 69 of Where the Roses Bloom
“Fuck,” he groaned…
…and then he lost it.
His rhythm turned savage, hips snapping, body straining as he pounded into me. I clung to him, nails in his back, stars behind my eyes, pleasure unfurling fast like a flood. I was crying—maybe both of us were—but it didn’t matter.
Nothing mattered but this.
His name ripped from my throat as I came, harder than I ever had before—my whole body locking, clenching around him.
And Rhett—God, Rhett—he broke with me.
He shouted my name like it was the only word he’d ever learned, hips stuttering as he came inside me, hard and deep, spilling everything he had into me like he could plant it there and never look back.
We stayed like that for a long moment, trembling togetherin the soft grass and sunlight, our breaths tangled, his body covering mine. The world had gone quiet—like the trees were holding their breath, like even the birds knew not to interrupt what had just happened.
He didn’t pull out.
Didn’t move.
Just kept whispering against my neck, “I love you, I love you, I love you…” like maybe if he said it enough times, the land itself would hear it and let it stay.
I threaded my fingers through his hair, gliding across his scalp. My thighs were sticky, my cheeks flushed, my whole body aching in the best possible way.
He finally lifted his head, green eyes heavy with emotion, lips red and kiss-bruised.
“You still wanna go back inside?” he asked hoarsely.
I smiled up at him. “No. This is better.”
He chuckled, the sound low and masculine, and I questioned for the thousandth time what I’d done to deserve this. “I mean it, you know. I’m gonna marry you.”
“I know.”
“And I’m gonna give you a baby.”
I pressed my hand to his chest, right over his heart. “I know.”
His breath caught. For a second, he looked like he might cry or start laughing…or both. But instead, he kissed me—sealing every promise between us.
And around us, the forest stirred.
A breeze swept through the trees, warm and sweet like honey on the wind. Flowers we hadn’t planted bloomed at the edge of the clearing—tiny white blossoms opening like they’d been waiting for this moment.
The land had heard us.
And it was answering.
CHAPTER 24
Rhett
The morning was too quiet.
Not peaceful. Not still. Just…quiet in that way the woods get before a storm rolls in—where the birds go mute and the breeze forgets how to breathe. I’d been splitting logs out back since sunrise, trying to work the tension out of my bones, but it wasn’t helping. My hands ached. My jaw hurt from how tight I was clenching it.
Willow had gone inside to steep nettle and raspberry leaf. She said it helped her feel grounded, helped her body settle after the week we’d had.
I didn’t ask if she meant Carter or the fact that we’d been making love like we were trying to carve a new world out of the old one. Maybe it was both.
