He thrust strongly, rooting deep, a primal sound vibrating in his throat. His shaking hands clenched in my hair, and he took my mouth with bruising kisses. The rhythm began with a hammering, almost vicious power, and I answered every visceral stroke with tender acceptance. Grasping his head in my hands, I pulled his ear close to my lips, and I whispered how much I loved him, loved him beyond anything. He tensed and gasped out my name, his body shuddering with the violence of his release.

Some time before morning I woke with the hazy awareness of warm hands drifting over me, fingertips gliding and playing. Jack was cuddling me from behind, his knees drawn up beneath mine as we lay on our sides. In contrast to his earlier ferocity, his touch was extraordinarily light, teasing out sensation. I felt the hardness of his chest against my back, the soft mat of hair brushing my shoulder blades and raising gooseflesh. His mouth touched the back of my neck, teeth closing tenderly on the thin, hot skin, sending a shiver along my spine.

"Easy," Jack whispered, soothing me with his hands, kissing my nape, stroking it with his tongue. But it was impossible to stay still as he caressed my br**sts and stomach and between my thighs, long fingers slipping into the core of my body. I moaned and reached blindly for his wrist, gripping it, and feeling the subtle, clever play of muscle and bone. His lips curved against my neck.

He eased his hand away, and his strong arm hooked beneath my top thigh, levering it upward. Positioning himself, he shunted deep and easy, whispering, I love you, just let go, Ella, let me have you. . . . He was so deliberate, the pace dreamy and delayed, and the more I struggled, the more time he took. We began the incremental climb, rising gradually on every throb, pulse, breath.

Withdrawing slowly, Jack turned me onto my back. He spread me wide and helpless beneath him. Incoherent sounds rose in my throat as he entered me again. His mouth took mine with erotic gentleness, while the urgent cadence of our bodies never ceased, the sleek undulations drawing out more pleasure, and more.

Our gazes locked, and I sank into the darkness of his eyes, feeling him all around me, inside me. He quickened, deepening the strokes, following the inner pulse of my body, pursuing my pleasure with hard, assuaging thrusts until he had driven me into a cl**ax higher and stronger than anything I had ever felt. I cried out at the summit, twining my limbs around him, while Jack breathed my name and tumbled with me in the rush, the voluptuous undertow, the slow, rich ebb.

For a long time afterward, Jack held my shivering body and stroked me into stillness.

"Did you ever think it could be like that?" I whispered.

"Yes." He smoothed my hair and kissed my forehead. "But only with you."

We slept until hot blue morning pressed against the shuttered windows, light filtering into the bedroom. I was dimly aware of Jack leaving the bed, the sounds of a shower, coffee being made in the kitchen, his quiet voice as he called the hospital to check on Joe's condition.

"How is he?" I asked drowsily when Jack returned to the bedroom. He was wearing a plaid flannel robe, carrying a mug of coffee. He still looked a little worse for wear, but sexier than any man had a right to be after what he'd been through.

"Stable condition." Jack's voice was still roughened from the ordeal. "He's going to be fine. Tough as hell."

"Well, he's a Travis," I said reasonably. Climbing out of bed, I went to his dresser and pulled out a T-shirt, which hung past the tops of my thighs when I put it on.

When I turned to face Jack, he was standing right there, tucking a lock of my hair behind my ear, and gazing down at me. No one had ever looked at me with such tender concern. "Tell me about Luke," he said gently.

And as I stared into those velvety-dark eyes, I knew I could share anything with him. He would listen, and he would understand. "Let me get my coffee first," I said, and went to the kitchen.

Jack had set a cup and saucer beside the coffeemaker. I saw a piece of notepaper, folded lengthwise, standing in the empty cup. Perplexed, I opened the note and read:

Dear Miss Independent,

I've decided that of all the women I've ever known, you are the only one I will ever love more than hunting, fishing, football, and power tools.

You may not know this, but the other time I asked you to marry me, the night I put the crib together, I meant it. Even though I knew you weren't ready.

God, I hope you're ready now.

Marry me, Ella. Because no matter where you go or what you do, I'll love you every day for the rest of my life.

—Jack

I felt no fear, reading those words. Only wonder, that so much happiness could be within my reach.

Noticing something else in the cup, I reached in and pulled out a diamond ring, the stone round and glittering. My breath caught as I turned it in the light. I tried on the ring, and it slid neatly onto my finger. Picking up a nearby pen, I turned over the paper and wrote my answer in a flourishing scrawl.

I poured my coffee, added cream and sweetener, and went back into the bedroom with the note.

Jack was sitting on the edge of the bed, his head tilted slightly as he watched me. His simmering gaze took me in from head to toe, lingering at the diamond sparkling on my hand. I saw his chest rise and fall with a quick breath.

Sipping my coffee, I approached him and handed him the note.

Dear Jack,

I love you, too.

And I think I know the secret to a long and happy marriage— just choose someone you can't live without.

For me, that would be you.

So if you insist on being traditional . . .