Epilogue
Ty
One Year Later - Key West
I watched Charlotte from the deck of our bungalow, her legs tucked under her on the beach chair, completely absorbed in some thriller she’d picked up at the airport.
The late-afternoon sun caught the auburn in her hair, turning it to copper and gold.
She’d let it grow longer this past year, and the salt air had coaxed out waves I hadn’t known existed.
We’d been coming to Key West regularly for a year now, stealing weekends and weeks whenever our schedules allowed. With her running the new Ethical Technology division at Vertex and me juggling Citadel assignments, we’d learned to be deliberate about carving out time for just us.
No protocols, no threats, no equations that could weaponize the world. Just Ty and Charlotte, figuring out how to be normal. Or at least our version of it.
Last month, we’d finally bought this place—a little two-bedroom bungalow with an outdoor shower and a view of the water that Charlotte had calculated was “optimal for sunset viewing based on angular positioning.” I’d kissed her to shut her up about the math and signed the papers.
The first time we’d come here had been just a week after the warehouse.
Both of us bruised and traumatized, Charlotte jumping at every unexpected sound, me unable to sleep without checking the perimeter every hour.
I’d held her as she’d had nightmares about Darcy—would wake up gasping, fingers going to her temple like she could still feel the cold metal of the gun.
I sure as hell could remember that gun at her head.
But slowly, trip by trip, the nightmares had faded.
I remembered the first morning she’d slept until the sun was fully up, her face peaceful instead of twisted with remembered terror.
The first time she’d laughed at something stupid on TV.
How she finally, bit by bit, stopped blaming herself for not seeing that Darcy was using her.
That had been the hardest part for Charlotte—learning to trust again.
Darcy’s betrayal had cut deep, right to the core of her ability to believe in friendship.
But slowly, tentatively, she’d started to open up.
First to my siblings, then to the wives of my Citadel teammates.
Logan’s wife Lauren and Ethan’s wife Mel had gone out of their way to include Charlotte in any way they could.
Now Charlotte actually initiated plans with them sometimes. Small miracles.
She must have felt me watching because she looked up from her book, pushing her sunglasses up on her head. “You’re staring again.”
“Can’t help it. The view’s incredible.”
She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “The ocean is that way.” She pointed behind her.
“I’ve got the only view I need right here.”
A year ago, she would have analyzed that statement, broken it down into component parts, probably graphed the statistical probability of its sincerity. Now she just smiled wider and went back to her book.
I stood, stretching muscles that were pleasantly sore from this morning’s swim. “I’m going to rinse off.”
She made a humming sound of acknowledgment, already lost again in whatever murder or mayhem was happening on the page. I loved that about her now—how she could actually relax, actually let her brilliant brain engage with something that didn’t matter, that wouldn’t save or doom the world.
The outdoor shower was one of the main reasons we’d bought the place.
Cedar walls for privacy, open to the sky, big enough for two—though Charlotte had initially insisted on calculating water flow rates before agreeing it was acceptable.
Now it was our favorite spot, especially in the late afternoon when the sun slanted through the steam.
I turned on the water, adjusting until it was perfect—not that I’d tell Charlotte I’d memorized the exact ratio of hot to cold she preferred. The woman who could solve impossible equations still couldn’t remember which tap was which.
I’d just stepped under the spray when I heard bare feet on the wooden deck. Charlotte appeared in the doorway, already pulling her sundress over her head in one fluid motion.
“Book get boring?” I asked as she stepped in with me.
“Mm, the heroine made a tactically stupid decision that would definitely get her killed.” She moved under the water, tilting her head back to let it run through her hair. “Your fault. You’ve ruined me for fictional characters who don’t understand basic survival tactics.”
I watched the water stream down her body, over curves that hadn’t been there a year ago when she’d been surviving on adrenaline and turkey sandwiches. She’d filled out, gotten healthy, and the black bikini she’d been wearing underneath the sundress showed off every new curve.
“Water’s perfect,” she said, eyes still closed as she let the spray hit her face.
“You’re perfect,” I said, meaning it.
She opened her eyes, water droplets clinging to her lashes. “Perfection is a mathematical impossibility—”
I kissed her before she could launch into the full explanation. Her laugh vibrated against my mouth before she melted into me, arms sliding around my neck. A year of practice had taught us exactly how to fit together, how to angle our heads, how to move in sync.
My hands found her waist, pulling her closer as the kiss deepened. She tasted like the margarita she’d had with lunch and something uniquely Charlotte—something I’d never get enough of.
“We have dinner reservations,” she murmured against my mouth, but her hands were already sliding down my chest, nails dragging lightly in that way she’d learned drove me crazy.
“We have an hour.” I backed her against the smooth cedar wall, caging her in with my arms. “Plenty of time.”
“Your definition of plenty of time and mine—”
I cut her off by dropping my mouth to her neck, finding that spot just below her ear that made her breath catch. “Hey, beautiful?”
“Mm?”
“Stop calculating.”
She laughed, but it turned into a gasp as I untied her bikini top, letting it fall to the wet floor. The late-afternoon sun painted her skin gold, water droplets running down between her breasts like an invitation I couldn’t refuse.
I took my time, relearning her body with mouth and hands. A year ago, she’d been self-conscious about being naked in daylight, always calculating angles and probable visual assessment. Now, she arched into my touch, confident and demanding.
My mouth found her breast, tongue circling her nipple until it peaked hard against my lips. Her hands tangled in my hair, holding me there, and when I scraped my teeth gently across the sensitive bud, she made a sound that went straight to my cock.
“Ty,” she gasped as I slid my hand down her stomach, slipping my fingers beneath her bikini bottoms. “Please…”
She was already wet for me, slick and hot, and when I found her clit with my thumb while sliding two fingers inside her, her whole body bowed.
“That’s it,” I murmured against her breast. “Let go for me.”
She moaned softly, her hips rocking against my hand as I worked her higher.
Her nails dug into my scalp, making my cock twitch from the small bite of pain.
I loved how freely she voiced her desire.
She’d never held back her responses or sounds from me.
And now, she was even more vocal with her pleasure, more comfortable in her body. It was a beautiful sight to see.
“More,” she demanded, and fuck, if Demanding Charlotte wasn’t my favorite version of her.
I dropped to my knees, pulling her bikini bottoms down with me. She stepped out of them, then gasped as I threw one of her legs over my shoulder, opening her to my mouth.
“Oh God,” she breathed as my tongue found her clit.
I took my time, alternating between broad strokes and focused attention on her clit, using everything I’d learned about what drove her wild. When I slid two fingers back inside her while sucking her clit, she cried out, her hands scrambling for purchase on the wet cedar walls.
“Ty, I’m going to—”
I curled my fingers, finding that spot inside her that made her see stars, and she shattered. Her whole body shook as she came, my name a broken cry on her lips. I worked her through it, drawing out every wave until she was pushing at my shoulders, oversensitive.
I stood, kissing my way back up her body. She was boneless against the wall, breathing hard, that particular smile on her face that meant she was about to return the favor.
She wrapped her hand around my cock, and I groaned at the contact. “Charlotte—”
“My turn,” she said, already starting to drop to her knees, but I caught her.
“Not this time. I need to be inside you.”
Her eyes darkened. “Yes.”
I lifted her easily, her legs wrapping around my waist as I pressed her back against the wall. When I slid into her, we both groaned at the sensation. She was so wet, so perfect around me, that I had to pause for a moment to keep from embarrassing myself like a teenager.
“Move,” she demanded, nipping at my ear.
I did, starting with slow, deep thrusts that made her moan with each one. The water cascaded over us, the sun warm on my back, and Charlotte in my arms—it was perfect. She was perfect. We were perfect together.
“Harder,” she gasped, and I gave her what she wanted, driving into her with enough force to make her cry out. The sound echoed off the walls, and I loved that she didn’t try to muffle it.
“Look at me,” I said, and she did, those green eyes bright with arousal and something deeper. “I love you.”
“I love you too. Always.” Her head fell back as I shifted the angle, hitting deeper. “Oh God, right there—”
I kept the angle, driving into her again and again until I felt her starting to tighten around me. “Come for me, beautiful.”
She did, with a cry that probably scared the seabirds, her whole body clenching around me. The feel of her coming on my cock, the sounds she made, the way she said my name—it sent me over the edge too. I came hard, burying myself deep as my orgasm crashed through me.