Epilogue
ALEX
The trail slants upward, a lazy slope through the pines. Eva is a step ahead, striking in a tight denim skirt and tall boots, her loose hair catching the morning sun. I’m supposed to be looking at the view, but my eyes keep sliding back to her.
It’s only been forty-eight hours since she showed up at my door with her proposal. It feels like a different era.
I moved to Fort Vauclairt yesterday afternoon. Last night over dinner, Eva and I told Millie we were getting married.
She rolled her eyes so hard it’s a miracle they didn’t stick. “Betrothed? At your age? Eww. Gross.”
But even my untrained eye caught the smile hiding in her dimples.
I step forward and rest my hand on Eva’s lower back where her sweater is tucked into her skirt.
“Millie seemed fine with our plans, don’t you think?” I ask.
“More than fine. She’s happy.”
I let out a slow breath. “Good.”
She looks up at me. My hand slides to her hip. I’ve no intention of fucking her here, not with all the cameras and mics hidden around the area, but I can’t resist this small touch.
“That skirt messes with my head,” I whisper.
She looks at me and grins.
We start walking again. Soon, the hunting lodge appears through the trees. Instinctively, I release Eva’s hand. We stop talking. No one feels like sharing their private moments with a bunch of agents monitoring the feed at MESS.
Last I heard, they haven’t caught Kurt Ozzi’s mole yet.
Or maybe they have, but they aren’t telling us.
We’re in “top secret” territory here. I do hope they’ve nailed the bastard.
But, given what I know, the odds are slim.
Whoever Ozzi planted in Mount Evor is smart, careful, and brilliant at avoiding detection.
A real pro—too sharp to hang around a bugged cabin.
Someone like that had sensors in place that warned them the instant Eva and I discovered Ozzi’s tunnel.
I tilt my head toward the derelict lodge. “Still makes your skin crawl, doesn’t it?”
“Every time.”
I check the time, mindful that the interview with the first estate manager candidate is at two. Much as I love roaming these woods with Eva, we have an estate and a duchy to get back on track.
“Time to head back?” she asks.
“Afraid so.”
We walk in companionable silence until the castle roofline comes into view. I offer her my hand, and we rush down the hill.
The fire in the small salon is flickering low. I add a log. Returning to my swivel chair, I push the paperwork to one side of the desk and pick up my glass.
Across from me, Eva leans back in her padded chair, with her legs curled underneath her. “We made the right choice.”
“We did. Peter was the most qualified.”
Her smile is toothy. “And he’s the only one who didn’t try to flatter me into oblivion.”
I take a sip, watching her content face over the rim of my glass. “I think he’ll do well here.”
“I think so, too.”
Gazing out the window, she pinches the stem of her wineglass between two fingers and begins to absently stroke it. Up to the spherical bottom of the glass, then slowly down, up again, then down…
Mesmerized, and increasingly aroused, I follow the movement of her fingers.
Thank God the desk hides my bulge!
She sets the glass down. “So, are we going to celebrate this long-overdue recruitment?”
“Um…” I squint at her. “I thought that’s what the wine was for?”
“Wine is just the prelude.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Oh?”
She rises and comes to stand on the other side of the desk.
“Oh,” she echoes, bending forward.
Her mouth brushes mine. My glass barely hits the desk before I’m on her.
My hand finds her waist, steadying her, then drawing her closer.
The kiss deepens. Her lips are soft but insistent.
Her mouth is hungry. She scrapes my bottom lip with her teeth, lightly, but enough to make me groan.
She tastes like the wine we’ve been drinking, like the only woman I’ll ever need, like everything I’ve ever wanted.
When I draw back, panting, I rest my forehead against hers.
“This is going to get out of hand,” I warn.
She smiles slyly. “Then let it.”
The sultry look she gives me drives the air from my lungs.
“Lock the door,” she gasps.
I’m already moving before the words leave her swollen lips. A flick of the key, a click, and we’re safe from Claudia checking for forgotten lights. When I turn back, Eva is waiting, her breath quick, eyes dark.
I don’t just kiss her this time. I devour her.
She presses close, her hands splayed over my chest. My palms move to her hips, anchoring her as her mouth opens beneath mine. Her lips move down my jaw, her breath hot on my skin. I hold her tighter, loving the way she feels. The way she responds. The way she claims me back.
For a long time, there’s nothing but the sound of kissing, the scrape of fabric, the restless rhythm of hands exploring.
My hands are everywhere—her hips, her back, dragging up to rake her hair and then down again to cup her ass.
When I lick a hot stripe down her throat, she whimpers, arching into me, begging for more. And, Christ, I’ll give it to her.
I push her gently against the edge of the desk and lift her onto it.
Her skirt rides higher as she opens her legs to make room for me.
Papers scatter, but I don’t care. My hands are on her thighs, hiking up her skirt until it’s bunched around her waist. I stroke her, feeling the wetness through her panties. It drives me crazy.
I push the damp fabric to one side and palm her soaked pussy harder, greedier. She moans under my touch.
“You’re so wet,” I murmur, dizzy with need. “I’m going to eat you out right here, Eva.”
I start to crouch when her hand grips my shoulder, firm but gentle.
“Wait,” she says.
I stop instantly, meeting her eyes. She pulls back, breathing hot, eyes dark with something fierce.
Her voice is determined. “I have something else in mind.”
She slides off the desk. Her gaze never leaves mine as I straighten. Her hands tug at my shirt, unbutton it. She rains kisses across my chest. Bending down, she kisses my abs and licks a trail to my navel.
“Eva…” I whisper, torn between disbelief and want.
She keeps moving lower, and then she kneels, shocking me.
My heart races as I watch her reach for my belt, her fingers working the buckle. I can hardly believe it. We’ve made love a dozen times, and she’s never done this. I thought it wasn’t something she wanted to do. But here she is, on her knees, looking up at me with those intense eyes.
“Eva…”
“Shh,” she whispers, her fingers unzipping my pants. “Let me do this.”
I’m speechless, my body taut with anticipation. Every nerve is on fire, every sense heightened. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more than I want this.
I push my pants and boxers down, step out, and kick them aside. My cock juts, hard and ready. Her lips part as she ogles me. My breath catches. I’m dying for her touch.
“I’ll never tire of this sight,” she murmurs, her voice husky and her gaze reverent.
And then, her fingers curl around my cock. She moves closer and gives it a long, lazy lick from balls to the tip. The sensation sends shockwaves through me. I grip the edge of the desk for support.
“Fuck,” I rasp. “That was incredible.”
“Good,” she says, a flicker of triumph in her eyes.
I half expect her to stop. This was a token gesture, proof to herself and to me that she’s free of old ghosts, that Geoffroy doesn’t own her anymore, and that his shadow no longer determines how she makes love.
But she doesn’t stop. She closes her mouth around the crown.
My body jolts, every muscle taut, every nerve ending alive.
She goes slow at first, testing, tasting.
Her tongue explores the ridge beneath the head with delicate flicks.
Her lips are warm velvet around me. Then she grows bolder, more confident.
She takes me deeper with each descent. Her fingers wrap around what she can’t swallow.
The heat of her throat, the wet slide, the sheer devotion with which she sucks me—it’s more than I can manage without losing control.
I clench my jaw, fighting to hold on. “If you keep going, I’ll come.”
Her rhythm builds in response. She works me with her lips and tongue, and the gentlest edge of her teeth. My composure tears apart. The restraint I pride myself on is gone. All I can do is give in to her, every nerve lit, every thought consumed.
When release crashes through me, it’s violent, and exquisite. I gasp her name. My hand tangles in her hair, fingers splayed at her nape, anchoring her against me as my hips buck. My grip isn’t firm. She can pull away easily if she finds it too much.
Again, she stays.
She keeps her lips sealed around me through every shudder, every groan, every squirt—until I’m completely spent.
It takes a long moment before I can see clearly. When I do, she’s gazing up at me. Her face is flushed. Her lips glisten. Her eyes shine with pride.
I can’t stop staring at her. Words feel clumsy. Anything I could say seems too weak, too inadequate.
But one word slips out, raw and unfiltered. “Mine.”
The second it’s spoken, panic slams through me.
What have I done?
Eva will hear it as me wanting to shackle and control her, the very thing she swore she’d never endure again.
She rises.
“Yours,” she says, her breath warm against my lips. “And you’re mine.”
The tension breaks.
I draw her close, as close as physics will let me. “Body and soul, Eva. Until my heart stops.”
The End