EPILOGUE #2
The sounds of their bodies filled the space, skin against skin, harsh breathing, the slick slide of him inside her, the occasional thud when her shoulders hit the wall.
Rachel's dress was bunched around her waist, twisted and damp with sweat.
The ring on her finger pressed into the back of his neck where she held him, the metal warming with her body heat.
Release built fast, coiling low in her belly, spreading outward in waves that made her thighs shake against his grip.
Her whole body tightened around him, and she heard herself moan, high and desperate, before his mouth crashed into hers, swallowing the sound.
The kiss was messy, all tongue and teeth and broken breathing.
Then she shattered. She came hard around him, her inner muscles pulsing, her cry muffled against his neck as she buried her face there.
Her body locked around his, arms, legs, everything clenching, as he kept moving through it, prolonging every second until she couldn't tell where the waves ended and began again.
"Jesus, Rachel." His voice broke on her name. "You're so beautiful like this."
She could barely breathe, could barely hold on. Her limbs felt loose and shaky at the same time. He surged once more, twice, his rhythm faltering, and then he stilled, buried deep. She felt him pulse inside her, felt the groan that rumbled through his chest where it pressed against hers.
He held her there, pinned to the wall, both of them breathing hard. His arms were locked around her like he was afraid she'd dissolve if he loosened his grip. Sweat cooled on her skin where the air from the window touched it, but everywhere he touched her, she was burning.
And then, his voice breaking to a whisper against her ear: "Mrs. Hayes."
Rachel laughed, breathless and shaky, the sound catching in her throat. Her heart was still slamming against her ribs. "I could get used to that."
He pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes dark and bright at the same time, and brushed the damp hair from her face. A grin tugged at his lips, boyish and unguarded. "Good. Because I'm not letting you go."
She glanced down at her hand where it rested against his shoulder, at the ring that sat heavy on her finger. It felt right there, like it had always belonged.
"I'll give you whatever wedding you want," Ghost murmured, his knuckles brushing lightly across her flushed cheek. "Million people or just us. Whatever you say."
Rachel smiled up at him, her chest still heaving. "I don't want to wait."
His brow lifted. "No?"
"No." Her voice was sure despite how wrecked she felt. "Life's too damn short. Every minute matters." She tightened her legs around his waist, feeling him shift inside her. "I want to spend them with you."
He let out a quiet laugh, and she felt it vibrate through both of them where they were still joined. "All right. So something small? Courthouse? Elopement? Just us?"
Her smile turned playful. "Small. The team. A few of my friends." She paused, the idea hitting her with perfect clarity. "And... what about Vegas?"
Ghost's smirk was slow and lazy, his thumb grazing her ring finger where it rested against his chest. His heartbeat was still racing under her palm. "Vegas it is. I can have the team packed and on a flight in forty-eight hours."
He didn't pull out. Didn't shift an inch. She was still wrapped around him, her back pressed to the wall, both of them flushed and breathing hard, skin sticking together where they touched. He was still inside her, deep and unhurried now, like neither of them was ready to break this connection.
Rachel shifted slightly, testing, and felt him twitch inside her in response. His hands tightened on her thighs, a warning and a promise all at once.
"Forty-eight hours," she repeated. She traced her fingers along his jaw, feeling the stubble scratch against her skin. "That's fast, even for us."
His hands flexed against her thighs, and his eyes darkened. "Honestly? I'd drag you to a courthouse right now if I could. The forty-eight hours is just so the team can get their asses to Vegas." His thumb traced circles on her skin. "I want you Mrs. Hayes as soon as fucking possible."
Heat flooded through her again at the possessiveness in his voice, the barely restrained urgency. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." His eyes locked on hers. "I've waited long enough."
Without breaking eye contact, he slid one hand down to his jeans still tangled around his thighs. Pulled out his phone. One-handed, he tapped the screen, brought it to his ear, and Rachel's brain short-circuited when she realized what he was doing.
He was still inside her, still holding her against the wall, and he was making a phone call.
The line clicked.
Ghost's voice came out low and firm, like he was briefing a mission. "Torch. Vegas. Forty-eight hours. Get the guys. Bring suits."
Rachel's mouth fell open. She could hear Torch's voice on the other end, muffled, confused, asking something.
"Yeah. For a wedding."
Her heart kicked hard against her ribs. Ghost's eyes stayed locked on hers, dark and amused, like he knew exactly how insane this was and didn't care even a little.
Another pause. She heard Torch's voice rise in pitch, probably asking whose wedding.
Ghost's smile came slow, his free hand tightening on her thigh. "Mine."
Rachel felt her face flush hot, not embarrassment exactly, but disbelief mixed with a sharp, bright thrill that made her pulse jump. He'd just told his team. While still buried inside her. The absolute audacity,
He ended the call and tossed the phone gently to the floor where it clattered against the concrete.
"Logan—"
He leaned back in before she could finish, his mouth brushing hers, swallowing whatever protest or laugh was trying to escape. His hands slid lower, fingers digging into her ass, pulling her tighter against him. She felt him stir inside her again, already responding, and her breath caught.
"You just—" She tried again, her voice coming out breathy and incredulous. "You called Torch while—"
"While I was inside my fiancée?" His grin was wicked. "Yeah. Seemed efficient."
Rachel laughed, the sound startled out of her, and felt it vibrate through both of them where they were still connected. "You're insane."
"You said yes." He kissed her jaw, her neck, the spot behind her ear that made her shiver. "You don't get to take it back now."
"I don't want to take it back." Her fingers tightened in his hair, and she shifted her hips experimentally. His breath hitched. "But maybe next time you want to make phone calls, you could—"
"What?" He pulled back to look at her, eyes gleaming. "Pull out first? Where's the fun in that?"
She was still laughing when he kissed her again, deeper this time, his hips rolling against hers in a slow grind that made her forget whatever point she'd been trying to make.
And there, in the middle of concrete floors and half-finished walls, surrounded by sawdust and steel beams and the afternoon light streaming through industrial windows, Rachel realized they weren't just building a company here. They were building a life, messy and impulsive and absolutely theirs.
Forty-eight hours, then she'd be his wife.
God help them both.