Forrest is standing there, hesitating and looking at me so fiercely that I start to panic that I have pushed him too far.

“No,” he growls. “Because I’m about ready to pound you through the bed.”

To which I giggle, watching his eyes scanning up and down my near-naked body. He’s still not game to touch me.

“But Harper, you need to know, the moment I get you on that bed, you are never leaving again. Do you understand?” He takes very slow steps toward me as I back up to the bed.

“The moment you give me your body again, I’m never letting you go. Ever,” he growls at me.

“That’s what I’m counting on.” I launch myself at him, jumping up and wrapping my legs around his waist. “By the way, since when have I ever been a sweet lovemaking kind of girl? Time to make good on your promise of taking me to pound town.” I start to nibble on his ear.

“What my goddess wants, my goddess gets.” That deep gravelly voice sends shivers through my body.

“About time you worked that out.”

And as the words leave my lips, I’m looking at the man I love rolling his eyes at me but with so much love in return that I know I have finally found my place.

It turns out he was right—not that I’ll ever tell him that—when he said that the fight to stay was worth pushing through the pain of being apart.

It was all worth it so I can now love without fear and feel worthy of his love in return.

And for that, I will be eternally grateful.

Epilogue

6 Weeks Later

HARPER

It took a while for my fear to settle and for me to believe that I was safe to travel back to America, the place I was born and will always have a connection to. Forrest, Ashton, and the Chicago Police Department assured me the case against Chester was very strong and that he would be convicted and stay behind bars for many more years. Once I could process it all, I decided I wanted to confront that fear head-on and basically invited myself on the boys’ trip that was planned for the Grand Prix in Las Vegas. The girls wanted to be here for support, so St. Tropez was postponed, and here we are.

“I can’t believe the guys were going to come to Las Vegas without us. I have never been a Formula One fan, but seriously, this is awesome,” I declare as we stand on the balcony above the McLaren team pit area.

“Right. I mean, holy shit, this is like a buffet of hot men. Everywhere you look there is eye candy,” Tori replies louder than she should have, looking all around us while holding her fresh glass of champagne in her hand.

“Victoria!” The growl from Nic lets her know he heard her.