Page 37 of Keeper of Hearts
"You're stuck with me for four more years."
"Seriously? You got in?"
His grin is all the answer I need.
I fling myself into his arms, squealing with joy.
He catches me, laughing as his acceptance letter flutters to the floor. His kiss is wild, unrestrained.
"Four more years," I whisper when he finally lets me up for air.
"No, butterfly," he says, shaking his head. "Four years isn't long enough. I want forever."
Forever.It's not nearly long enough to satisfy me, but it's a start, at least.
Epilogue Two
Gage
Twenty Years Later
"You know we don't have to do this, right?" I murmur to Troian, slipping my arms around her waist from behind.
She glances at me in the mirror, a sweet smile on her face. But I see the anxiety lurking in her gaze. She can't hide it from me. I know her far too well.
"Yes, we do," she says. "We already said we'd be there."
"So? We can blow it off." I brush my lips across her bare shoulder. "I bet Corey and his husband would skip with us and go to dinner instead."
They've become damn good friends over the years, watching out for Troian and our adopted daughters while I was in medical school and then killing myself during my residency.
She turns in my arm, staring up at me. "Are you afraid to go because you're worried someone will say something about me? You know I don't care about that, Gage. High school was a long time ago."
"I'm not afraid to go," I murmur. "I just don't give a fuck about any of those people, butterfly. Why spend the night with assholes who stopped mattering twenty years ago when I could spend it with you instead?"
Her lips curve into a grin. "Maybe I want to be seen on your arm, so they all know that I got the guy."
"There was never any doubt about you getting the guy, baby." I narrow my eyes at her. "The guy in question wasn't having anyone but you."
She laughs softly, her green eyes shining. "We're going to the reunion, Gage. End of discussion."
"Fine," I growl. "But I want you naked and on your hands and knees when it's over."
"Fine." She smirks at me, leaning forward until her lips are at my ear. "But just so you know, I'm not wearing panties tonight."
I growl, caging her in against the sink when she tries to slip out of my arms.
"What are you doing?"
"Checking to see if you're lying to me."
"Do I ever?" she asks, her expression serene.
No. She doesn't. That's what worries the fuck out of me. There's no way I'm going to make it through the whole reunion with my wife on my arm, not wearing panties. I barely make it through the damn day when she is wearing panties.
I still feel like a horny goddamn teenager every time I look at her.
I slip my hand into her pants, growling against her throat when I confirm that she is not, in fact, wearing panties.
