He woke slowly—slower than he’d woken in longer than he could remember, his senses coming online like his grandmother’s old television, everything a little hazy and uncertain until the picture came into view. The darkness of the room, of the world outside the window. The warmth of the bed, the soft pillow beneath his cheek. The warm, soft woman in his arms.

Abby.

His Abby.

She was a fucking miracle.

His arm tightened around her shoulders, his hand brushing down her skin, and he reveled in the feel of her, the scent of her—lavender and something else. Lemons? It was the smell of summer even high in the Rockies in October. And she was like summer—not like desert heat and dust, but like rich green grass and warm salt water and lazy fans moving air over skin like a kiss.

Not just summer, though. She was winter and spring and fall. Snow and rain and crisp autumn leaves. And he wanted every bit of her.

Starting immediately.

Ending never.

She inhaled, turning her face into his chest, her hair and breath teasing at his skin. She sighed, a little, perfect sound…the sound of utter contentment. And he knew that feeling—knew it because he’d felt it here, with her, for the first time in too long.

And then she lifted her head and set her chin to his chest, finding his gaze with a sleepy smile. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He growled around the knot in his throat.

She closed her eyes. Opened them, brown and perfect. “You’re really here.”

He stroked his hand over her bare shoulder. “I really am.”

She shook her head. “I didn’t think…”

When she didn’t finish, he said, “I’m back. The tour is over.”

Her eyes went wide, and he thought he saw happiness there. Hope. “For how long?”

“For as long as you’ll have me.”

Please, let it be hope.

He hoped, too. Maybe too much. Maybe he should have thought twice before taking the transfer back to Ft. Collins. Before accepting the desk job on base. But hope had consumed him. Hope, and the promise of Abby. “I love you.”

Her mouth fell open in a little, shocked O, and he couldn’t resist pulling her up to him, licking over her lips and teasing her tongue. When he released her, her eyes had gone heavy-lidded. The tip of her little pink tongue ran over her lower lip, swollen from his kiss, and he nearly rolled her over and took her again.

But before he could, she spoke, tears in her eyes and her whispered words. “I thought I’d lost you.”

He pulled her tight to him, his heart pounding. “Never.”

“I thought I’d driven you away. I just didn’t know what to do—how to tell you—I never meant for it to be—this.”

“You mean, us, naked in your bed?”

She smiled. “That, and also…”

The pause nearly killed him, but he waited her out. She had things to say, and he’d wait forever for her to say them.

He was rewarded.

“Roux, I love you.”

He exhaled, hard and harsh with relief. “Thank Christ.”

“You can’t be surprised.”

“Can’t I?” he said with a laugh. “You hung up on me, baby. You ignored my texts. My calls. I had to travel across the globe to get you to tell me the truth.”

No one on Earth had a prettier blush than his Abby. “I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“Practice makes perfect, cher,” he teased, kissing her again. “Tell me again.”

She laughed at that. “Not the ‘I love you’ part.”

“That’s the only part I care about.” He did roll her onto her back then, wanting his hands on her. Wanting his lips on her. He kissed the soft skin of her neck, loving the way she bared it for him, the way her hands came to his arms, the way her fingers slid up to his neck and into his hair. The sigh that turned into a little moan as he swirled his tongue against her. The way she welcomed him home. “Say it again,” he whispered, desperate for her.

“I love you.”

He kissed the words from her lips. “Again.”

“I love you.”

He settled between her thighs, loving the way they fit. The way she wrapped around him, soft and perfect. “Again.”

She looked at him, searching his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“What did I say about apologies?”

She shook her head. “No. This one, you deserve. I’m sorry for lying. For not believing in you. In us. For everything. I’m sorry for not telling you I loved you that night. I’m sorry for not telling you I loved you before that night. Because I have. I think I’ve loved you since the first letter.”

This beautiful woman. What had he done to deserve her?

He kissed her long and slow and deep, telling her everything there was to say without saying a word. When he released her, they were both panting. “Do you believe me?”

“I do.” She lifted her hips to his, a plea. And then another. “Roux.”

He gave her what she wanted, sliding deep, the sensation raw and powerful, like home. She gasped her pleasure, and Roux thought he might lose his mind. He met her gaze—brown and beautiful. He moved against her, slow and lingering, like a promise. “I love you, Abby.”

She sighed. “Again.”

Anything she wanted. Another thrust. “I love you.”

“Again.”

Again. “I love you.”

“Again.”

And so it went, until they were both over the edge. Later, unable to ignore Darcy’s pleas to go outside, they left the bed and returned to the world—barely.

They sat on the steps leading from the kitchen down to the back yard, pressed to each other as they watched the dog play in the shadows of the porch light, investigating the perimeter of the property.

Roux held Abby close with a strong arm, unable to resist the urge to set his lips to her temple and keep them there as he took her in, learning her feel, her scent, the cadence of her breath.

“You’re so warm,” she said, tucking herself into the crook of his arm—a spot he’d never noticed was empty until the moment she filled it.

He grunted the pleasure that came with the realization. “You’re so perfect.”

She dipped her head, turning her face from him, and he tilted her chin up to look into her pretty brown eyes. “You are,” he said. “Impossibly perfect. With your big brown eyes and all your soft curves and the way your voice curls through me like magic.” He kissed her forehead. The tip of her nose. Her lips. “You’re magic.”

She reached up and stroked his beard, sending a thrum of pleasure through him. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I can’t believe it took me so long to get here,” he said. “I feel like everything has been on hold since the moment I opened that first letter. I’ve just been waiting to get back to you.”

She smiled at that. “I spent months wishing you were here. I imagined you every day. Grocery shopping. Walking Darcy. On my couch watching movies with Bennet in your lap.” She looked up with a shy smile. “It’s pretty ordinary stuff, I know. But it’s possible I’ve been waiting all this time for you to get back to me.”

His heart ached at the words, and he dipped to press a kiss to her hair. “I want all that, cher. All that, and more. It’s not ordinary for me. Not if you’re with me. It’s fucking glorious.”

They were quiet for a long time, and Roux was more content than he’d ever been, basking in Abby’s nearness, in its promise of a future, even as snow began to fall around them.

After a long while, Abby sat up. “The snow was waiting for you, too,” she said with a laugh.

She stood, and he rose with her, stopping her before she turned toward the house, cupping her cheeks in his hands, staring down at her, snowflakes in her hair and happiness in her eyes. “I just wan’ have a look at you. Good enough to eat.”

She peeked up at him through long, dark lashes. “Speaking of eating…I’ve been saving something special for you.”

His heart began to race. She’d wanted him. Even when she’d pushed him away, she’d planned for him here. “What’s that?”

She grinned. “Feel like teaching me how to make beignets?”

His stomach rumbled as he matched her smile. He let his accent go full Cajun. “You got powdered sugar, béb?”

“Piles and piles of it.”

His brows shot up at the sinful promise in the words, and he pulled her tight against him. “Enough to get you dirty?”

She gasped, then replied, “Enough for you to get me clean.”

His mouth went dry. His woman would kill him. “Bon. We’ll start with that, then.” He lifted her and tossed her over his shoulder, loving her squeak as Darcy pushed past them into the warm house.

“Roux?” she said as he climbed the stairs to her bedroom once more. “You missed the kitchen.”

“Food can wait. I have more important things cookin’.” He closed the door to the sound of her delighted laughter.

The sound of his future.