39. Oliver

39

OLIVER

She’s flying down the stairs, her blonde hair a sheet behind her, a huge grin on her gorgeous face. I stop on the landing, my smile taking over my entire being as I drink in the sight of the woman I love madly.

“It wasn’t a mistake. Nothing was a mistake,” she blurts out.

“I know. I meant it all. I wanted it all to happen.” Words tumble out in a rush, and I reach to catch her and tug her into my arms.

She’s wrapped around me in an instant, arms, legs, and then lips on mine.

“I meant it all, Oliver,” she says between kisses. “I wanted it all to happen. When I said I didn’t mean for any of it to happen, I meant everything going wrong. But not everything that went right. And we’re right.”

I run my arms up her back, holding her tight, thrilling at the feeling of her, at the truth of her words. “We are so right together,” I agree, happiness taking over my chest, sunshine flooding my veins. “I love you. I am in love with you. And I never wanted to ask Emily to prom. I always wanted to ask you.”

The smile that takes over her face is radiant. Beautiful. Magical. And all for me.

“I was hoping you’d say that. I wanted that. I think I started falling in love with you that night all those years ago,” she says, all soft and sweet and so sure.

“I definitely did. But I’m a simple man. It took faking it for me to realize how real it all is. How real everything is with you. I don’t want this to stop. I want it to keep going, on and on, always.” I press a kiss to her lips, savoring the chance to imprint her with the full truth of my heart. “Because I’m in love with you, Summer. Madly.”

She slides off me, planting her feet on the ground, cupping my cheeks. “I am so in love with my best friend. Will you be mine?”

I laugh, shaking my head in amusement. “I’m not letting you go. So yes, I’ll be yours, and you’ll be mine. And let’s not fake a thing ever again.”

She slides her hand down my cheek, stroking my jawline. “I was never faking a thing with you.”

I close my eyes, brush my lips to hers, then claim her mouth in a possessive, greedy kiss that’ll turn filthy if we let it.

So I stop, running a hand through her hair. “After all these years, it’s always been you.”

She rises on tiptoe, kissing me tenderly. “And it’s you for me.”

Then she takes my hand, leads me up the stairs, and kicks everyone out, including her grandmother.

It’s fine by me.

I have plans for her. For her body. Her heart. Her mind.

But I’ll start with her body. Even though I had her mere hours ago, I want her again, and she wants the same thing. We go to her room, strip down to nothing, and I bring her close to me then slide inside her, making love to my best friend.