I can’t believe my life right now.

We walk into the great room, where everyone is drinking cocktails, laughing, warming up by the fire blazing in the gorgeous fireplace.

I don’t want to steal my sister’s thunder, but today was so wild, so unexpected on so many levels, and besides, everyone I love is here.

My sister and her husband and my parents. My cousin Trudy and her Star Wars fanatic husband and my aunt and her husband. I must tell them the news because there are no guarantees, all we have is now.

Right now, if I tell them, they can celebrate with me. We can toast together... and then Samson and I can continue with our night as planned.

After telling them the news everyone offers us hugs and congratulations. I’m grateful for my sister, because even if she’s got a total stick up her ass in so many situations, her heart is good, and her love for me is real. She wants the best for me the same way I want the best for her. And really, can anyone ask for more than that?

“Ava, I’m so happy. I’m so happy this worked out the way it did.” Sophia’s eyes are filled with tears and I don’t know if it’s the cocktail or the fact that her wedding dress may be burned to a crisp but her support means so much.

“I have the best idea,” Sophia says. “We should have a double wedding. Tomorrow.”

I laugh. “Um, okay, sweetheart, you get right on that.”

“No,” she says, grabbing my hands. “I mean it. After that fire tonight, all I can think is how precious life is. How we can’t have everything perfect—”

“Wait,” I say, raising my hands in feigned shock. “My sister, the one and only Sophia is admitting that life isn’t always perfect?”

“I know, right?” She laughs. “But it’s true. When you find love it would be foolish to squander it, for even one day.”

“I love you,” I tell her, wrapping my arms around her, grateful that even if we haven’t always seen eye to eye, right now we do. Love is precious, and I am going to hold on to mine.

My parents are thrilled as well, apparently, Samson pulled my father aside and asked for my hand in marriage.

Listen, I’m a romantic at heart. I read romance novels and re-watch romantic comedies dozens of times, and make freaking wedding rings for a living. I wanted a love story. And I have one.

“Think that’s enough small talk for me, I may be your fiancé, but I’m still a mountain man, and I need my woman all to myself.”

My heart surges with pride as he calls himself my fiancé. I don’t think there is a better word in the English language. And so, when he takes my hand and pulls me away from the party, from the dinner and the drinks, I let him lead the way.

* * *

In his room, with the door locked, he undresses me. One zipper, two snaps, three kisses along my neck.

“You looked like a Valentine’s Day card today,” he tells me, whispering the words in my ear.

I giggle, actually giggle. As if I’m a giggler. Before I met Samson I was a lot of things I’m not anymore. He has changed me.

“Do you like Valentine’s Day?” I ask, his hand running over my hips, pulling me to him.

“Now that I get to celebrate it with you, tomorrow, yes.”

He drops to his knees and pulls down my panties. His mouth kisses my pussy, and my body is his. Now and forever. His strong arms wrap around my waist, and my hands run through his hair.

“That feels so good,” I moan as his tongue finds my folds, sucking me like my body was made for him. I’m so wet, and his tongue licks me like he was made to taste me.

He stands, cupping my breasts, pulling a nipple to his mouth and sucking it sweetly. He’s waking my body up, head to toe, and I’m in no rush. I get him now and I get him forever. Samson is mine.

He takes off his clothes and I grin like a fool when I see his chiseled body.

“How is it possible that you are more ripped than when I saw you last?”

“I work with my hands.”

“Oh yeah? You like to work with your hands?” I tease, my fingers inside the waistband of his boxers, pulling them off and then letting my fingers wrap around his long hard cock.

“I love to work with my hands, sweetheart.”

His fingers press against my clit as if he knows my pleasure spot.

“Is your home nice?” I ask, my eyes fluttering closed as he touches me.

“You’re gonna love it there. It’ll be just us, no distractions. I’ll spread your legs every day of your life, I’ll lick your pussy and make you drip.”

“I don’t really want to drip,” I murmur. “I want to gush. I want you to make me so wet that my come gets all over your face. I want to sit on you, and I want you to eat me out like you were made to do so.”

Samson growls in my ear, squeezing my ass and then picking me up. “How about we do that right now, baby,” he says, and I sigh out a yes.

I push him on the bed and crawl over his perfect body, uninhibited with him, because after our emails and our heart-to-hearts and our tears and laughter—I feel so safe with him. So, I turn around, my ass in his face, sitting on his mouth, and drop my head so I can take him deep in my throat.

I suck him, his hard cock, into my mouth, burning my throat. He’s so big and so thick, but I love the way it makes me feel when I run my tongue over his hardness. It makes me feel like a woman and makes me feel loved and beautiful.

Samson’s tongue is deep in my pussy, licking me up and down, up and down, my clit is on fire, my juice all over him. He presses a finger inside me, moving in out, faster and faster, making me come. Making me pour. Making me gush.

“Oh, my God, Samson, don’t stop. Don’t stop. Oh, my God,” I moan.

He keeps finger fucking me, and I keep sucking him, cupping his balls with my hand, moving my thumb up and down the hard ridges of his length.

“I’m so close sweetheart, I’m gonna come in your mouth.”

“No,” I say. “I want your cock in me when you come. I want your come inside me, please.”

He squeezes my ass, groaning as I turn around, gliding down on his thickness. Rocking over his chest, my tits bouncing. His arms wrap around my waist as I move with him inside of me. Rocking my hips as we fuck, as his come pulses within me, as my body lights up, the stars in the sky bursting.

“Oh, my God, Ava Grace, never stop,” he groans, his string of words perfection in my ears.

“That was magic,” I tell him, laughing. Giggling.

“You know how it could be more magical?” he asks, his hands on my hips, his eyes on mine.

“What,” I ask, still catching my breath, still amazed that the ring on my finger is the one I made.

“We should get married on Valentine’s Day,” he tells me.

“What?” I laugh. “Did you talk to my sister?”

He shakes his head. “No, why?”

“She said the same thing.”

“Good. Because I want to, Ava Grace. I want to marry you tomorrow. Don’t make this mountain man wait.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “You, this hard-ass man, want to get married on the most romantic day of the year?”

“Yes. For you? For us? Always.”