Epilogue
ANA
I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the concrete ledge of our swimming pool, feeling the stress of the week melt away. Carter was reading our five- and three-year-old sons, Lucas and Mason, a bedtime story to give me a break—between work and keeping the kids entertained, clean, and well-fed, I needed these few minutes to myself.
But I didn’t truly smile until I heard the distinctive sound of the patio door opening. This was my favorite part of the day—alone time with my husband of six years.
“All tucked in,” Carter announced as he approached the pool. “Is the water warm enough?”
I nodded, the concrete gently scratching the back of my neck. “Yep. Thanks for thinking of that.”
He’d flipped on the heater before we left for work this morning, knowing that I’d want to go for a swim after the kids were in bed. I always did on Friday nights. It was more soaking than swimming, but this was my happy place.
“One glass of wine,” he said.
He set my favorite red wine next to me on the ledge, then put his beer beside it before climbing in. He wore his swim trunks—he finally had to buy some once we had kids. But right now, I was thinking of ways to get them off him.
“Aren’t you glad I didn’t agree to sell to you that day?” he asked.
I looked over at him. His gaze was focused on something just past me—the plot of land on the other side of that fence that still sat empty.
“Someday we can move my parents in there,” I said. “Or one of the kids when they’re grown.”
He shook his head. “But then we couldn’t have our private time out here.”
He didn’t have to say any more than that. I knew exactly what he meant. We’d made love in the pool, on the patio chairs—even up against the wall. And definitely in the pond behind our house. If we’d had a house next to us, we wouldn’t be able to do any of that—especially if someone we knew moved in. And yes, I expected us to be just as sexually adventurous once the kids were grown. Our passion for each other hadn’t died in the slightest since our first time on the banks of this very pond.
I grabbed my glass of wine and shifted it to my left hand, then settled my right hand on his left thigh. That sent blood rushing straight to my pussy, intensifying my arousal. I’d already been remembering all the times we’d made love out here, and that had gotten me worked up enough.
Sipping my wine, I slid my fingers upward, beneath the hem of his swim trunks and over to the mesh piece that supported everything. I skimmed my thumb over the bulge I felt there. Yes, he was getting hard. I could tell that much.
He let out a moan as I continued to casually stroke, moving my hand over as much of him as I could. I closed my eyes and rested my head against the ledge again, enjoying the feel of him.
My eyes popped open when his hand made its way to my thigh. He didn’t move as slowly as I had, though. His fingers went straight for the crotch of my swimsuit, slipping beneath and sliding inside my already wet pussy.
I removed my hand and switched it to the elastic waistband of his swim trunks, sliding beneath them and taking his erection in my hand. This was much better. I could freely stroke him. And from the sound of his intensified breathing, it was clear he preferred this too.
“Take off your bathing suit top and get over here,” he finally said, his voice gruff.
He’d begun moving his finger over my clit. That was definitely doing things to me, but I wanted him inside me. I wanted him filling me. And he wanted to see my tits while I rode him.
With a smile, I removed my one-piece swimsuit, sliding it downward and stepping out of it. I couldn’t help but remember that night that seemed like a lifetime ago, when he’d had to track down my bra in the water. It had floated a considerable distance from the kayak. At least this time, we wouldn’t have that issue. It could only travel so far in our small pool.
By the time I moved between his legs, he’d dispensed with his swim trunks. They were on the pool ledge next to his head. I could have done that too, but I didn’t care now. My mind was one hundred percent on kissing him and feeling his hands on me.
Our kiss started out slow at first but gradually deepened as his hands moved over my ass, pulling me toward him. As he lifted me, my legs wrapping around his waist, he broke the kiss and moved his mouth to my left nipple, running his tongue over it and sucking. I gripped his shoulders, trying not to cry out. The kids probably couldn’t hear us from their shared bedroom on the other side of the house, but I didn’t want to take any chances.
As he moved to my right nipple, he maneuvered me onto him, quickly filling me. I threw my head back and gasped. It just felt so good. Nothing felt as good as making love to my husband under the moon and stars.
As he moved in and out of me, I shifted my hand between us and began touching myself. I knew how to get to orgasm quickly—he’d taught me. He’d even watched me a few times, stroking himself from a chair in the corner as I lay on the bed, hand between my legs, head on the pillow, back arching as I came. The thought of that pushed me closer to orgasm.
“Come for me, darling,” he said, using that term of endearment I loved so much. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
That was exactly what shoved me over the edge. I whispered his name as I came. Carter. Best husband ever.
Sometimes I could hardly believe this man had taken me as his wife. He’d honored every commitment he made in those vows. He was by my side for better or worse, in sickness and in health. And he was the best father imaginable.
I opened my eyes in time to see him in the throes of orgasm—his eyes closed, his jaw clenched, the water sloshing against the side of the pool with our movements. I was the luckiest woman alive. I had a thriving real estate business, a great group of friends who worked in the same industry I did, and a husband and kids I loved more than life itself.
As we both stilled and shared one last sweet, loving kiss, I once again thanked the wealthy client who sent me here in the first place. I couldn’t imagine never having met Carter, and I definitely wouldn’t have wanted to miss out on living in this town.
“Thank you,” I said, settling in next to him.
I grabbed my glass of wine. I didn’t even remember having set it aside.
“For what?” he asked. He grabbed his swim trunks and climbed into them.
I looked off to the left and saw my swimsuit floating. I’d get it later. I was kind of enjoying the water moving over my naked body. Maybe we’d even have another go at it before we got out, dried off, and watched a little TV before bedtime.
“For pretending you were going to sell to me to get to know me better,” I said. “If you’d just flat-out said no and sent me off your property, I would have never imagined you’d be interested in someone like me.”
“Someone like you?” He looked over at me. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Besides, I couldn’t send you off my property. The second I met you, I knew this was something I’d been waiting for all my life.”
I reached out and grabbed his hand. I threaded my fingers through his and stared up at the sky. It was the same night sky where we’d gotten to know each other more than seven years ago. We’d shared everything but our plans for the future.
Maybe we didn’t need to. Maybe we knew our future was laid out in front of us, waiting for us to chart our own path—together.