“But . . .” His mouth fell open as he struggled to find the words.
“I don’t need the big speeches and the expensive paintings—just you. I only ever needed you,” I said.
His eyes glistened with tears. “I don’t deserve—”
“You deserve to be happy,” I replied. “And I deserve to be with the love of my life. Which is you. I know that. I’ve always known that. But I need you to understand that you can’t run from me when the storm comes, Sam. We have to stick together.”
He nodded. “I get it. Really, I do. I’ll never leave again.”
I reached for his hand. “Good. I hate being without you.”
His hand curled around mine and he pulled me toward him.
“You never have to be. Honestly, Grace, I want to prove it to you. I want to give you everything you want and deserve.”
“And what do you want?”
“I want you. I want you to move in with me tonight. I want to make up for lost time. I want to marry you tomorrow.”
“You want to marry me?” I asked, fighting for breath.
“Of course I want to marry you. You are the love of my life—I want it all.”
“Is that a proposal?” I asked, the chatter of the gallery fading away, leaving just Sam and me in each other’s arms.
“Do you want it to be?”
I slid my hands over his. “I just got you back.”
“So, today your answer’s a no—but I’m going to keep asking until you’re ready. If it takes a hundred years, one day, Grace Astor, you will be my wife.”
“Oh? And what makes you so sure of that?”
“Because,” he said, tilting my chin up for a kiss, “you taught me the most important lesson in the Count’s story. ‘Happiness is like those palaces in fairytales whose gates are guarded by dragons: We must fight in order to conquer it.’” He smiled down at me. “I won’t ever stop fighting again.”
Epilogue
Sam
“Marry me?” I asked as I walked out of our bathroom, a towel around my waist, combing my fingers through my wet hair. Grace watched me from beneath the covers as she always did after my shower.
Morning, noon and night, I loved Grace Astor, but she always took my breath away first thing in the morning—her sleepy face, soft limbs and croaky voice. She owned me. Despite her wanting to take things slowly, we’d not spent a night apart since I’d gone to the gallery nine weeks ago.
She grinned at me and sat up in bed, smoothing her hands over her bed hair. “No. You marry me.”
I froze. Had I heard her correctly?
She bit the corner of her bottom lip, trying to stop her smile. I stalked across the room and pulled her down next to me. “What did you say?”
As we lay opposite each other on the bed, she traced her finger over my nose and across my lips. “I said marry me.”
“Are you asking me to marry you?” I asked, propping my head up with my hand.
She nodded.
“You’re finally saying yes?”
“No.”
I was confused.
“You’re going to say yes. I hope. I’m asking you.”
I chuckled. “Okay. I’m saying yes.”
“You’re saying yes?” she asked, her smile widening. Could she really think that she’d get a different answer?
“I’ve asked you every day for the last fifty-eight days—were you expecting me to say no?”
We laughed and I pushed her to her back and kissed her, taking my time to explore her warm, soft mouth, enjoying her fingers combing through my hair.
“This means we’re engaged,” I said.
She nodded. “I need a ring.”
“I bought three.”
“You have three engagement rings?” She tipped her head back and laughed. “When?”
I kissed her again, lingering over her lips. “Fifty-seven days ago. Want to see?” I started to move, but she pulled me back by the arm.
“In a little while. Right now, I’m good with you in nothing but a towel, kissing me.”
I pulled down the straps of her top and placed a kiss on each shoulder. “Kissing you where?”
She tugged at the bottom of her top and lifted it up and over her head. “Everywhere.”
No man was luckier in this moment than me. The best woman I’d ever known had promised to spend the rest of her life with me. Life didn’t get better than that.
I kissed down her belly, tugging at her nipples and making her gasp. I grinned at the sounds she made. I did that. I could make her feel that good. And I’d keep doing it forever.
I hooked my thumbs into the edges of her underwear and pulled them down, kissing from one juncture of the thigh to the other, licking the dip in her skin where her leg began. Her skin smelled of ripe cherries.
“Sam,” she called, her voice raspy and breathless but content. Certain. Of me. We’d come a long way.
I smoothed my hands over her inner thigh, pressing her open, getting her ready. I wasn’t sure who felt the anticipation of what was next more—her or me. She arched her back and I slid my tongue over her clit. Already, Grace was wet enough for me to drink and I was always thirsty for her.
My erection pressed into the mattress as I lapped down her slit. She groaned, pushing out her little demands in a breathless flurry of please, don’t stop, yes, just there.
I pushed my hand over my cock. I wondered whether the taste of her, the sounds she made, would get me this hard forever. I grinned against her as she continued her chatter. Yes. No question. She’d always get me hard.
She grabbed my shoulders. “Sam, I need you.”
Those words used to scare me, send me running. Now, there was nothing more I wanted to hear. That someone so beautiful, generous, kind and loving would need me. It was nothing short of an honor.
I kissed her clit and moved up the bed. “You need me, Princess?”
She reached for my cock. “Yeah,” she whispered as she dove for my mouth, hungry and ready for me. I rolled on top of her and pressed my dick to her entrance. She responded by curling her legs around my hips.
“This is our first time making love as an engaged couple,” I said as I pushed into her. She groaned, her palms flat against my chest.
I closed my eyes for a second, just to steady myself at the feel of her.
“No,” she said. “I don’t think so.”
I bent to kiss her. “Did I miss something?”
She grinned. “All engaged means is that we’ll spend the rest of our lives together—and I think that’s been the case from our very first time.”
The drag of her around me as I pulled out combined with her words took my breath away.
“Yes,” I replied as I pushed back into her and began my rhythm. She was right. She’d been mine from the moment I touched her. I’d been hers before I’d ever met her.
We molded together like magic. The heat from our bodies enveloping us, binding us. As I rocked into her, gazing at her, she cupped my face. “I love you,” she said as my orgasm began to rumble in the distance. “I love you,” she repeated, the rumble growing louder, and she started to pulse beneath me.