EPILOGUE
KELSEY
MY MAN WAS SO DAMN SEXY. Especially when he was in the pouring rain with his shirt plastered to his chest and his jeans streaked with mud as he shoved his muscular body against the back of a car to dislodge the vehicle from a swampy ditch.
Ah, yes. So sexy.
From my position in the passenger seat of the truck, I zoomed the camcorder in on him and kept filming. He was my own personal, insanely hot action flick.
He yelled something to Colton, who was in the driver’s seat of the car. Colton accelerated as Archer pushed at the car’s bumper again. His boots sank into the mud. The tires spun, splattering him with grime. He shoved harder, his jaw clenched.
With a jolt, the car lurched back onto the road. Colton gave a whoop of victory.
Archer climbed from the ditch, dragging his boots out of the heavy muck. His chest heaved with exertion, and water ran in rivulets over his hair and face. He went to talk to Colton, bracing one hand against the roof of the car.
I tracked the camera down his body, over his powerful chest to his legs encased in wet jeans. When he pushed away from the car, Colton sped off through the rain.
Archer turned, catching sight of me through the windshield of the truck. He frowned and stalked toward me.
A little shiver of apprehension went down my spine. I quickly hit the stop button on the camcorder and shoved it back into the bag.
“Nice work!” I called cheerfully through the open window. “Is he meeting us at the next pit stop?”
Archer didn’t respond, his glower deepening. My apprehension grew stronger. He was soaked to the skin, filthy, and exhausted. With mud and rain streaking over his face and hair, he also looked more than a little menacing.
He stopped outside my window. “Were you filming me?”
“Um… maybe?”
“What the—”
“Not for commercial use,” I assured him quickly. “Just for… er, well…”
A sudden blush fired over my skin.
Archer frowned. “For what?”
“For my own private use,” I admitted. “You’re just so sexy with your muscles straining and your shirt plastered to your body like that, and you know how much I love it when you’re dirty…”
The scowl between his eyebrows eased a little, but he still didn’t look any too pleased. He shoved away from the window and strode around to the driver’s seat. He climbed inside, slamming the door shut behind him.
Now in the confines of the truck, his irritation was tangible. I scooted away from him. He bent to unlace his mud-caked boots and yank them from his feet.
“Are you thirsty?” I asked, still trying to keep my voice bright. “I have chocolate milk in the… oh!”
Before I could finish, he’d grabbed me and hauled me against him. All the breath escaped my lungs as he brought his mouth down on mine in a hard, crushing kiss.
I fell against him, parting my lips under his to accept the sweep of his tongue. Sparks flared through me, but too soon he was lifting his head, his dark eyes hot. He jerked his thumb toward the back of the truck.
“Get back there,” he ordered. “Now.”
My heart pounded. I hurried to scramble over the front seat to the cab, where we kept a few boxes of equipment. Archer shoved some of it aside to make room before hauling me down on the seat and climbing on top of me.
The delicious shock of his weight combined with the rain still dripping off him fired me with lust. Cold water seeped through my shirt and pants. He took hold of my shirt and ripped it right off me, pulling my bra down to expose my breasts.
I gasped, squirming against him, already sizzling with heat and urgency. I wiggled out of my jeans, struggling to help him off with his, and then we were both half-naked and he was pushing into me with an intense, powerful surge.
I wrapped myself around him, gasps and moans streaming from my throat as he thrust again and again, his body still tense with strain and exertion, his breath hot on my neck. I came hard, arching up against him, thrilling in the force of our release, the sheer, uncontrollable power of him.
When he rolled off me with a groan, I nestled up against his side. I splayed myself half over his long, muscular body, resting my head on his chest. He stroked his hand through my hair.
“Next time, I get to film you being dirty,” he said.
“Okay,” I agreed.
He grinned. I spread my fingers over the tattoo on the left side of his chest—his own drawing of the superhero Blue with tornados spinning from her palms and her blue-streaked hair windblown by a storm.
He’d agreed to get the tattoo without knowing what it was—after I’d decided to play my trump card and choose the new design for him. Since the tattoo was on his chest, though, I’d insisted he wear a blindfold until the artist had finished.
“Exactly where my storm girl belongs,” Archer had said after seeing the design. “Right over my heart.”
Even the tattoo artist had smiled.
I eased closer to Archer, stroking my hand across his chest. A warm contentment filled me, along with the heady anticipation of not knowing what lay ahead for us.
In the two weeks we’d been storm chasing, we had already faced down another tornado, gotten lost on country back roads, driven through rain and hail, and had more explosive sex than I’d ever dreamed possible.
We were on our way back to Mirror Lake for the rest of the summer, where Archer had plans to look for construction or repair work over the winter as we prepared to launch the Spiral Project next spring.
Though Archer had wanted to give some of his inheritance money to the project, I’d refused to let him. Instead he was going to talk to Dean about investments, and he’d mentioned taking art classes at the local community college and possibly even earning his GED one day. I loved that his talents were so focused on fixing, repairing, restoring, and creating.
As we lay there in the back of the truck, the rain pounding on the roof and thunder rumbling in the distance, I felt it again, like a bright, shiny balloon lifting my heart. Happiness.
I was so happy with him, this man who had taken me once again into the beauty of storms. He was the man who loved all of me, even my worst flaws. He had proven that together we could challenge fear and win. He was my exhilaration and my peace.
And he had shown me that letting go and surrendering was a measure of strength. No longer alone, no longer afraid, we had both given over to loving each other forever.
Archer rubbed his hand across the front of my body, his touch warm and gentle. He lowered his mouth to mine. I sank into him, feeling the steady beat of his heart, the coiled strength of his body, the heat of his skin.
Pleasure unfurled inside me as he pressed his hand between my breasts. He shifted, deepening our kiss. My heart flipped like a coin, flashing silver against the palm of his hand. And then I was caught, swept up and spinning into my own perfect storm.
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