37. Colton
THIRTY-SEVEN
COLTON
TWO MONTHS LATER.
“You’re a cheat, Colton Beckett.” Carsyn pouts, tossing her money onto the board, sending plastic houses skittering.
“Now, don’t be calling me a cheat just because I beat you,” I tease, dropping my cash onto the board. “Fair and square, might I add.”
She rolls her eyes as Gen pinches popcorn from the bowl, watching us with a smile as she snacks.
Genevive is doing so well, and so is Kinleigh. I’m amazed by both of them, and I’m impressed with how well the immersion therapy is going for Kin. She had a panic attack the other day when Carsyn opened the basement door to carry down some bags of flour. I held her as she shook, and when she could stand, she walked down those stairs into our basement and stood down there alone for a few minutes. When she came back up, she asked me if I wanted to go for a ride, and we did. We rode through her father’s old property, checked on the new construction of the two homes, and followed the fence line around the acreage until we wound up back home two hours later.
Today, Kin wants to ride out to the place we used to lay together after school. Where we told secrets and made plans and generally disappeared together. Those days were perfect, and as Kin reclaims herself and heals, more and more of her emerges. I love it. I love being with her.
I wish we had those ten years back. I wish we didn’t go through what we went through.
I wish Forrest had died instead of Levi.
But we’re here now, and I waste no opportunity to be grateful. I help Kinney off her horse as we arrive, the grass shorter and much more yellow than it is in the sunny months. Still, we lie on our backs, side by side, staring up into the endless blue.
I turn my head, the grass tickling my ear. “Are you excited?” I ask, referring to the upcoming meeting with the foster care facility and the bureau. We have a qualifications meeting in two weeks, and at that time they’ll tell us what we need to do to become temporary parents to that baby girl, with the idea that permanency follows.
She twists her face to look at me. “I’m excited,” she breathes, reaching for my hand, waffling our fingers together. “But what if they don’t choose us because I’m…” She chews the inside of her cheek as an eagle soars above, his cry echoing around us, reminding me how truly alone we are out here.
“Perfect? Gorgeous? Smart? Funny? Meant to be a mother?” I smile with each assertion, because I won’t hear that she’s some broken version of the Kinleigh I love. She’s her, through and through, and what happened to her leaves no mark, not for me at least.
“Fucked up,” she says instead, chuckling a little.
“You’re not fucked up, sweetheart. Fucked-up things happened to you, but you’re strong. You’re a goddess. You’re incredible.” I brush the tip of my nose against hers then use it to trace out her jaw and take a kiss from her lips. “You were meant to be a mother, and she was meant to be ours.”
She nods, my words sinking in. “But…”
I’m ready to destroy any roadblocks that stand between her and motherhood. “But what?” I question, rolling to my side on one elbow.
“Do they only let you adopt together if you’re married?” Her question brims with unspoken questions, but the great thing is, I’ve got answers.
“Sit up,” I advise as I do the same. I bring her between my legs, cradling her back to my chest, my body wrapping hers. From my shirt pocket, I retrieve the necklace I put in there this morning. I pull it out and loop it around her neck as she gathers her hair for me. I clasp it and return my hands to her thighs, rubbing as I stack my chin on her shoulder. “Kinleigh,” I breathe her name as she lifts the necklace off her chest, realizing there’s something on it. “Marry me.”
As I say the two words, her fingers slip on the band looped through the necklace, a diamond coming to settle atop her ring finger.
“Colton,” she breathes. “Oh my god.”
My lips skate down her neck as I tug the collar of her shirt away from her body. “Be my wife. Be the mother of our children. You’re my everything, Kinleigh. Become a Beckett and make me the happiest man in the world.”
Twisting in my hold, she grabs my face between her hands and covers me in tearful kisses, murmuring, “ Y es, yes, yes.”
And those yesses become greedy and raspy, and before long, she’s on her back in the grass, her pants on one ankle, mine banded frantically around my thighs as I push my fat cock deep into her wet cunt.
I’m home. That’s what it feels like.
Our bodies move together passionately, sweat coating my back as her pussy tightens around my cock. She sifts her fingers through the grass as I fuck her, taking it all in.
“This is where we first made love,” she breathes, hooking her ankles around my thighs, pulling me deeper into her cunt. God, I love that. I love how she takes me deeper and wants me harder, and isn’t crass asking for it. We fit together in all ways.
“I know,” I breathe, dragging my lips along her collarbone, leaving love bites. “That's why I brought you out here. I wanted to give you this ring in the same place I gave you the first one, only this time, you’re not giving it back.”
“No,” she moans, “never. You’re mine, Colton Beckett. You’re mine and only mine, always and forever.”
I pull out and grab my cock, staving off the orgasm throttling in my nuts. In those few seconds, something washes over her features, temporarily stealing her happiness and pleasure.
“I wish I could give you a baby,” she whispers, her voice getting carried away in the wind. But I catch the words, I catch them and they sting because I don’t want her thinking that way.
“You give me everything I need,” I say, filling her back up with one strong thrust. “We will have our family, and I don’t care how we have it, you hear me?” I whisper, my words powerful, my tone gentle.
She nods, grass tangling in her golden hair as she does. Sinking her heels into my ass again, she moans as I thrust deeper and faster.
“I love you and you’re gonna be my hot little mama, my gorgeous wife, and my whole world, sweetheart,” I whisper as my orgasm snakes my cock and rockets from me, sooner than I’d like. But her wet warmth pulls it from me, her body milks it out of me, I swear it does. She feels so good, all of her.
I know she talks to Dr. Milovich about her reproductive trauma, and I’m glad she does. I can’t help her sort it out like a doctor can, but what I can do is make sure she realizes that she’s who I love, she’s who I want, and no matter how we have a family, I’ll be complete because it’s with her.
She moans as she finishes, clenching tight all around me. When she relaxes, I slide out, and reach behind me to tug off my shirt, pressing it to where my cum leaks past her swollen pussy. She holds her ring up, the sky a backlight, and admires the diamond.
“Let’s get married this weekend, at the house. Just you, me, Carsyn, Nash, Gen and the horses,” she says with certainty. “Carsyn can get ordained online.”
“We don’t have to rush,” I hear myself saying, because it seems like something I should say. But the truth is, I would have married her when I was seventeen and she was only sixteen. I’ve waited over ten years, though, and I can wait as long as she needs.
“I want to rush. I’m sick of wasting time. My life was wasted without my permission, and now I want it all. I want to live, Colton.”
Well, hell. I can’t argue with that.