Epilogue
GENEVIEVE
One year later
“You know I’m not a fan of surprises,” I grumble as Rowan leads me out to the waiting Aston Martin, a gleam of mischief in his eyes and a smirk on his lips. “I just put Marceline down for her nap, and the nanny?—”
“Has barely been putting in any hours at all, thanks to what an attentive mother you are,” Rowan says, opening the door to the car. “You’re amazing at it, taibhseach . But now you deserve something special. And I’ve been waiting to give this to you.”
“You could just tell me what it is.” I slide into the car, narrowing my eyes at Rowan. He’s acting like a kid in a candy store, and the practical side of me has always been overwhelmed with anxiety at secrets and surprises. But like so much else in our life, Rowan is determined to bring out a different side of me—the spontaneous, fun-loving side that he manages to unearth every now and then.
It’s hard to leave our four-month-old daughter even for a little while. I adored her from the moment she came into the world, screaming loudly about anything and everything, and I’ve adored every moment with her since. Rowan’s right—despite the fact that we have a part-time nanny, I hardly ever make use of her. We’ve only been out on a few date nights since Marceline was born, and as much as Rowan loves spending time with our daughter, too, I know he’s been itching for time with me.
The last year has been a whirlwind. Rowan’s father passed a few months after Rowan got out of the hospital, and the two of us moved into the Gallagher mansion not long before Marceline was born. Everything has been an adjustment—from learning how to be a real couple together to navigating new parenthood and Rowan’s new position as leader of the Irish mafia—but we’ve gotten through it together. And I’ve never doubted, in any moment, that Rowan loves me, or that I love him.
There’s not a single clue that I can pick out about what the surprise might be as Rowan drives us into the city. Finally, he parks in front of a large black-and-glass building downtown and comes around to open my door. When I step out, I narrow my eyes at the building, and then at him, confused.
“What is this?”
“Just follow me, lass,” he says with a wink, and takes my hand.
I purse my lips, but I follow, with no other option for figuring out what’s going on.
He takes me into the building, to an elevator, and all the way up to the sixth floor. We stop outside of a door in a long hallway, and he pulls out a keycard, hovering it over a reader before the door unlocks and he swings it open so that we can step inside.
I know what this is the moment we walk into it. It’s a huge, open space room, with floor-to-ceiling glass windows on one side that let out an abundance of natural light, springy wooden floors, and a sound system on one far end, with a door that’s cracked open that I can see leads to another, smaller room. But what gives it away, immediately, is the long barre that stretches along the opposite wall to where we’re standing.
“Rowan.” I turn toward him, my eyes widening. “What’s going on? I’m not going back to dancing, you know that?—”
“I know, milseán, ” he says gently. It’s still a bit of a sore spot, a wound that I don’t know will ever entirely heal. I did my rehab for my ankle faithfully, and it healed well. I could dance again, if I wanted to, but it was clear that I’d only ever make it as far as a part of the company again, and never the prima . After my pregnancy, too, the hill that I’d have to climb to make it even that far, the endless rehearsals and long days that would keep me away from my family, didn’t seem worth it for something that would always end in falling short of what I once achieved. So I decided to walk away from it, for good.
But now we’re standing in a ballet studio, and I don’t know what’s going on.
“It’s yours, lass,” Rowan says. “For you to do what you want with. If you want to just come here and dance, alone, to remember what it used to be like, you can. If you want to start a studio of your own, and teach, you can. If you want to just bring our daughter here one day, and teach only her, you could do that, too. Whatever you want,” he says softly. “But it’s for you.”
He steps closer to me, brushing his fingers against my cheek. “I’m at least a little at fault for the piece of yourself that you lost. I can’t go back and undo that. But I can give you back some bit of it. That’s what this is.”
I stare at him, my eyes briefly welling with tears. “It’s beautiful,” I whisper. “It’s—I never would have thought of asking for this.”
“You didn’t have to.”
I nod, swallowing hard as I walk toward the barre, kicking off my shoes to feel the cool, springy wood under my feet. I place my hands on the barre, smoothing my palms over it as I slowly move my feet into position—first, second, third?—
I feel Rowan behind me, the strong, muscled heat of his body very close to my back. I glance up, and I see his reflection in the mirror along the wall above the barre, his eyes darkening with desire as he smooths his hands down my arms.
When I tilt my head to one side, closing my eyes again, he brushes my hair away from my neck. He trails his fingers down the line of my throat, and then his lips, and a small moan escapes me as he kisses all the way down to the juncture of my neck and my shoulder, his tongue sweeping lightly over my skin.
“Raise up your arms, lass,” he murmurs, and I do, arching them above my head in the old position that I know so well, as he drags my shirt up and off, unclasping my bra as his hands slide around to tease my already hardening nipples. “Open your eyes, Genevieve. I want you to watch what I’m going to do to you.”
My breath catches in my throat as I open my eyes and see my handsome husband behind me, his hands sliding to cover my breasts as he kisses my neck again. His eyes are dark with lust, his jaw tight, and I can feel his cock hardening against the curve of my ass as he tugs and plucks at the tight peaks of my nipples.
One of his hands drops to the front of my jeans, undoing the button, and he slides them and my panties down my hips, stripping me naked in front of the mirror, one piece of clothing at a time. His hand sweeps down my leg, and then he lifts it up, propping it up on the barre as I stand there, naked in front of the mirror.
“Perfect,” Rowan breathes. “I dreamed about fucking you like this when we first met, taibhseach .”
“So you bought this place for your fantasies?” I smirk at him, and he narrows his eyes.
“For you, wife , just like I said. But I’ll admit I had some filthy thoughts when I was handed the keys.”
“What kind of thoughts?” My voice is breathless now, as Rowan strips off his own clothing, tossing pieces to the floor until he’s behind me as bare as I am, naked and gorgeously muscled.
“I’ll show you.”
He drops to his knees behind me, the muscles of his arm flexing as he wraps one arm beneath my thigh and over the barre, his fingertips expertly finding my clit as his tongue slides against my entrance from behind. I gasp, hands clenching around the barre as I feel the wet heat of his tongue thrust into me, stiffening and fucking me in small, quick strokes as he rubs my clit, before he pulls his fingers away and replaces them with his tongue. I watch as he holds me with one hand on my waist, his tongue lashing and lapping at my clit, retreating to thrust into me before rolling over my clit again—again and again until I’m gasping and pleading, my knees weak, so close to coming that I feel as if I’m going to die if it doesn’t happen soon.
He curls his tongue against my clit, pushing the tip of one thumb against the tight hole of my ass, and as his thumb slips inside and I watch him in the mirror, kneeling behind me as he eats me out like a starved man, I feel the orgasm hit.
A wave of pleasure crashes over me, and I moan his name as I come, my leg buckling and only my hands, the braced leg, and his hand on my waist holding me up as my climax ripples through me. I cry out as it crashes into me again and again, his tongue and finger working as he drives me higher, and I come hard on his tongue, soaking his face as I do.
Rowan stands, swiftly, his thick cock in one hand as he angles himself upward and drives it into me from behind, my pussy still clenching from my orgasm as he does. He groans aloud, one hand over mine on the barre, the other gripping it further down as he starts to thrust, his gaze locked with mine in the mirror as he fucks me.
“God, you feel so fucking good,” he moans, dipping his head to bite the curve of my neck. “We’re going to do this again, taibhseach . Maybe even today.”
He thrusts again, harder, fucking me from behind as we both cling to the barre, sweat prickling over his skin and mine as I feel the powerful flex of his muscles against me. He reaches between my thighs, stroking my clit as I feel him get closer and closer to the edge of his own orgasm, and then he drives into me all the way to the hilt, holding himself there as my mouth drops open and I come around his cock, holding his gaze the entire time as we come together.
I feel the hot rush of his cum as he twitches and throbs inside of me, his eyes never leaving mine as he moans my name, his fingers locked around my hand as he comes. “ Fuck, Genevieve—” He cries out, thrusting once more, holding us both there tightly together as the last aftershocks of pleasure ripple through us both.
When he slips out, he wraps his arms around me, pulling me down to the floor with him atop our pile of clothing. He holds me against his chest, kissing my forehead, my nose, my cheeks, before tilting my mouth up to his and claiming it again, his hands already sliding over my body.
“I’ll never get tired of this, taibhseach ,” Rowan murmurs against my lips. “I’ll want you forever. You know that, right, Genevieve?”
“I do,” I whisper, kissing him again. I feel him twitch against me, and I swing one leg over him, straddling him on the wooden floor as I clasp his face between my hands and deepen the kiss.
“I always will.”
Thanks for reading!