Tate (Mountain Men 3)

“Of course we can stay here,” Tate says warmly, kissing my cheek. He stands behind me in that way that I love, his hands on my waist, his large body shadowing mine deliciously. Slowly, one of his hands traces up to my abdomen, and he slides his palm protectively across me. “How else will we work on making that wee bairn?”

“Oh, I’m sure you’d find a way even in the ruined castles of Transylvania.”

He chuckles. “Of that, I have no doubt.”

I melt into him, leaning back and closing my eyes, as his hands rove over my body possessively. I love this. I live for this.

I sigh contentedly. “I love you, Tate Cowen,” I whisper. Just enjoying his arms around me.

“And I love you, darlin’.”

“Will you marry me?” I ask.

He laughs out loud. “Been there, done that. Have my babies?”

“Och, aye.”

He pauses and lowers his mouth to my ear. “Stay with me for the rest of our lives, live with me through the mess of it all, bear everything together, the good, the bad, and the ugly?”

“Everything,” I whisper.

He’s everything to me.

And I’m everything to him.

And that’s how we write our own happily ever after.