Marked. Branded. Bonded? Corey’s mind ran through all the things she’d told him the mark meant. She admitted she hadn’t told him everything, just what mattered. He’d always imagined the day he would ask a woman to marry him. He’d get down on one knee, hand her a ring after saying something particularly eloquent that he could never have thought up himself. There might be music playing and champagne. And ideally they’d have been together long enough that he knew all her secrets well enough that there would be no surprises. This isn’t the same thing, by a longshot, he told himself. But somehow it was. Commitment wasn’t something he was shy about. Hell, he’d come on this expedition, hadn’t he? Yet every moment of this expedition had been a surprise and Racha was just the cherry on top. Fate was telling him something and maybe, for once, he ought to listen. Corey looked down at the petite beauty, finally letting himself hear what it was fate wanted for him. He answered her question with a kiss, tongue sliding deep.
