She squirmed out of his arms, stepping back so she could glower at his abs. He glanced down and flinched. Yellow, blue, and purple shaded his tan body, looking like some sick interpretation of a child’s hand painting—complete with knuckle marks. “You’re not fine. Look at yourself. You might be bleeding internally for all we know. Maybe we should be taking you to the doctor instead of getting naked. Get dressed now.”
She slammed his shirt into his hands, and he gritted his teeth together. No. Hell no. That wasn’t going to fucking happen. The only place he was going was that bed—with her. Dropping his shirt to the floor, he advanced on her. “I don’t have internal bleeding, and the only thing that will hurt me at this point is if you make me leave this room. If you don’t climb back into that bed, I’ll hurt more than this ever did, and I’ll be forced to drag you back to that bed kicking and screaming.”
She backed away from him, swallowing hard, desire burning in her eyes. “But…but you might be hurt.”
“I am hurt.” He nodded, still advancing on her. When the backs of her knees hit the mattress, he smiled with satisfaction. “But all I need is you.”
She licked her lips. He pushed her shoulders, and she sat down on the bed. “Okay, fine, but—”
“No buts.” He crawled over her body, kissing every inch of skin he could find as he laid her back. “Just you and me. Right here. Right now. Nothing else.”
And it was true. All he needed in life was this. Her.
Them.
“I love you,” he whispered against her racing pulse, breathing in her scent.
“I love you, too,” she said back, wrapping her body around his. “Let me show you just how much…”
And then she did.
She really fucking did.
Epilogue
Two years later
Brett paused on the walkway to the Hamilton house, his head tilted to the side as he examined the exterior he knew more than his own. Same picket fences. Same green lawns. But instead of hating this town and counting down the minutes till he got to leave again, like he had with Chris’s wedding, he grinned and rubbed his hands together. Over two years ago, he came back to town for his best friend’s wedding. And today?
He came back for his wedding, and he couldn’t be happier.
Brett stalked up the front door, not even bothering to look at the house next door. His aunt and uncle were probably home—but they weren’t invited to their wedding. He continued to pay their bills, and they continued to beg for extra money…but he didn’t give it to them, no matter how many guilt trips they gave him.
He was a changed man with Anna in his life.
A better man. A whole man.
He lifted his hand to knock, but Anna opened the door before he could touch the wood, just like that day he’d arrived for Chris’s wedding. She smiled at him and threw herself into his arms, her feet dangling in the air as she wrapped her arms around his neck and he swung her in a circle. As he enclosed her in his embrace, his heart picking up speed when she clung to him, he wondered if he would ever get used to the love she showed him so freely and often.
Fuck, he hoped not.
He never wanted to take her, or her love, for granted.
“Mm.” He buried his face in her hair, inhaling her sweet scent. Plumeria. Always plumeria. “I missed you so damn much, Twinkletoes.”
She pulled back, smiling up at him, her gray eyes shining with happiness. Happiness he’d put there. “It’s only been twelve hours.”
“Twelve hours too many.”
She chuckled and plopped back down on the floor in front of him, letting go of him. He resisted the urge to pull her in his grasp again…but barely. “Come on in. You’re here just in time for the games, and I need a partner.”
He groaned and closed his eyes, shutting the door behind him. “Can’t we skip them? We could go up to your room, and I’ll do that thing you love so much where I—”
She cleared her throat and elbowed him hard in the ribs. “You might want to open your eyes before you finish that thought.”
“Why?” He opened his eyes…and met four pairs of eyes watching him. Glowering at him, now. He grinned, completely unconcerned that the brothers were all various degrees away from throttling him for daring to touch their sweet sister. “Oh. Hi, guys.”
“Hi,” Wyatt said, his brows up. “I, for one, was almost interested enough to listen to the end of that sentence. Almost.”
Christopher turned red. “You’re a sick fucker, then.”
Wyatt shrugged. “Or I’m the only one mature enough to realize she’s not the Virgin Mary reincarnated.”