Page 83 of Wild Highway (Runaway 2)

Easton shook his head and damn him, it shattered my heart.

I tried to step away but he had me pinned. “East—”

“With. Me.” He dropped his forehead to mine. “You fit right here with me.”

A sob escaped, followed by another, and as the tears streamed down my face, he pulled me into his arms. “I don’t want to leave.”

“Then come home. Please.”

“I thought you weren’t going to beg me to stay.”

“Let me rephrase. Come. Home. That’s not me begging. That’s me giving orders.”

I laughed and cried, burrowing into his shirt as he held me tight.

“I don’t want you to go, Gem. Stay.”

“Okay,” I whispered.

The tension in his frame vanished and he loosened his hold enough to catch my lips.

He licked at the seam and kissed me slow and soft. It was maybe the sweetest gesture he’d shown but my mind was whirling, and it was hard to concentrate on the taste of his tongue and the heat of his breath.

How was this happening? Had he really raced up to me on his horse—his freaking horse—and now I was kissing him? This was one of those moments I’d replay in my head for years to come and still not believe it had been real.

When he pulled away from my lips, I studied his face, trying to make sense of it all. “Why? What made you change your mind and come after me?”

“I was in the stables, pissed at you. I wasn’t supposed to be there but my truck got a flat this morning and instead of calling for help, I hiked back.”

“Because you were pissed at me,” I muttered.

“Yep. Well, I’d just walked in and happened to look over. There you were. Crying and . . .” His eyes melted into dark chocolate pools. “Breaks me to see you cry.”

So he’d ridden after me.

He must have come straight from the stables toward the highway, because as the crow flies, it was the fastest way off the ranch. Lucky for me, the road curved and wound its way, otherwise, I would have missed him.

“I don’t want to trap you here,” he said. “That’s why I didn’t ask. That’s why I said what I said last night. You went through enough. After you told me about your mother, I thought on it and I just . . . I don’t ever want you to live somewhere you don’t want to be.”

That was why he’d gotten strange after my confession? Not because of what I’d told him, but because he’d been worried for me.

He’d been willing to let me go because he’d wanted me to be happy.

“I love you,” I blurted.

“I love you.” He grinned. “I fucking love you, woman. I’m going to marry you. I’m going to have babies with you. I’m going to fight with you. I’m going to kiss you every morning. And show you every day that this is exactly where you belong.”

I wanted it. Every word. Every promise. “Are you asking me to marry you?”

He arched an eyebrow. “Did I ask?”

I laughed and stood on my toes to brush a kiss to his lips. “Let’s pretend you did and that I said yes.”

Easton’s smile stretched across his face. It was the most honest, real smile I’d seen from this man and instantly made me smile back. He only let me appreciate that smile for a second, then his lips were on mine again and there was nothing sweet about our kiss. It was consuming. Branding. Claiming.

I was his. I belonged with him.

The chaos I’d felt for, well . . . forever, seemed to simply uncoil.