Page 104 of Savage Rancher
He's right. I do.
He carries me past his bedroom, past the guest rooms, and pushes open the door to the library—the room with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the mountains, the leather couch we picked out together last month, and the fireplace we've never actually used.
Until now.
Jake sets me down on the thick rug in front of the fireplace, his eyes dark with intent.
"Here?" I ask, breathless.
"Here." He kneels beside me, his hands already working the buttons of my shirt. "I want you in the sunlight. Want to see every inch of you."
“Shouldn’t we light the fireplace?” My breath catches as he peels my shirt away.
“This is a test run,” he replies, tossing my bra aside, his touch reverent and slow. He lays me back on the rug, the morning sun pouring over us, warm and golden. His mouth finds mine, soft and deep, and I sink into him—into this moment, into us.
"I love you," he murmurs against my lips. His hand squeezes my waist, his thumb caressing my skin. “Both of you.”
I freeze. "What?"
He smiles down at me like I’m adorably funny. “I know how to count, sweetheart.”
I bite my lip. “Just because I missed my period doesn’t mean I’m pregnant.”
“You are,” he replies with annoying confidence, kissing the end of my nose.
I frown up at him. “I suppose this means you want to get married.”
He lowers his lips to my neck. “Ask me nicely. But don’t worry, I’ll say yes.”
I snort.
He reaches into the pocket of his jeans and pulls something out, holding it in front of my face.
It’s a ring—a square-cut diamond ring, bezel set in a brushed gold band. It’s simple and won’t catch on things, like I’d want, but still sparkling and significant. In one word: perfect. But that’s because Jake chose it.
“Say it,” he murmurs. He looks at me like I’m already his—like this is just a formality.
My pulse kicks faster, and my hands fist in his shirt. “Marry me, Jake.”
“Are you asking, or telling me?”
I swallow, heat curling in my belly. “Telling you.”
Something shifts in his expression, and he smiles. “Good.”
Then he slides the ring onto my finger like it’s always belonged there.
We make love slowly, thoroughly. He strips and covers me with his body, his hands everywhere. The sunlight catches in his dark hair, turns his skin bronze, and I memorize every detail—the way he looks at me like I'm everything, the way his breath hitches when I touch him, the way he whispers my name like a prayer.
When we're both spent, he pulls me against his chest, wrapping us in the throw blanket from the couch.
"We're missing breakfast," I say, my voice lazy and satisfied.
"Worth it."
I laugh, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "Luke's going to eat all the bacon."
"Let him."
