Epilogue
QUENTIN
I still can”t believe we turned our modest backyard into the epicenter of the liveliest first birthday bash this side of the Mississippi.
Carmina”s floating around somewhere, camera in hand, capturing every giggle and frolic under the setting sun.
She”s glowing more than usual, if that”s even possible. And me? I”m the self-proclaimed king of the grill today, serving up my now-famous barbecue ribs.
The air is buzzing—not just with laughter and a never-ending playlist of kids” tunes, but with something else... a gentle whisper of change.
It”s in the way Carmina looks at me after capturing a cheesy shot of new girl-dad Ryder and his one-year-old Zara with cake smeared across Ryder”s face, and how my heart skips a beat every time. It”s in the way the sight of my brothers congregating and singing to my one-year-old niece Zara”s mostly-toothless smile shoves my heart to the edge. It”s in the way Jenny passes by and squeezes my hand and whispers, ”You guys are next,” with a knowing smile.
It”s in the way Carmina looks this evening, more beautiful than ever. One glance in her direction and I remember why I fell in love with her, even after all these years.
The Seattle breeze flutters across her ankle-length dress, reminding me of that night in San Francisco, where we sat on the hill overlooking the Bay and she stole my breath with just one conversation.
Now, a year and a half later, we have not only our little family but also an expanded circle of friends who feel like family.
Nostalgia sets in, just like the quickly disappearing sun on the horizon. But so does desire.
My hand freezes around the spatula as I watch Carmina laugh, her dark-brown curls bouncing in the wind, her bronzed cheeks flushing as she grins. Suddenly, these ribs aren”t even the hottest things on the grill.
Just as I”m plotting my great escape—visions of snatching a quick, stolen moment with Carmina swirling in my head—my path to sweet freedom is blocked by none other than Killian.
He”s leaning in with that trademark smirk that screams he”s up to no good, the last of us Andersons without a ring. From the look on his face, he”s about to complicate my life just a bit more.
”Leaving your post, Q? Or should I call you Chef Love?”
”Are your corny jokes why you”re still single?” I fire back, trying to keep my eyes from wandering back to Carmina, who”s now sitting with Ryder and my niece, her laughter filling the air.
”Nah, I”m just here to help out. Thought you could use my help.”
I raise an eyebrow. ”With what?”
”The big question.” He glances over his shoulder, amber eyes meeting mine with a challenge. ”I”m assuming you”ve hired a marching band, got doves on standby? Hell, after the release of the third bestselling book in Danity’s Seattle series, you could hire yourself out for excerpt readings of spicy romance scenes and use the money to hire a skywriter. Or are we going full flash mob with a choreographed dance?”
”You know, for someone who dodges commitment like it”s an Olympic sport, you sure have a lot of proposal ideas.”
”Hey, I live vicariously, man. But seriously, you”ve got that ”I”m about to do something life-changing” look. Spill it before you spontaneously combust from all the secrecy.”
Dammit. Guess it”s too late to deny it now.
Pushing the sleeves of my button-down further up my arms, I turn to face him fully. ”I”m proposing to Carmina tomorrow.”
Killian”s jaw drops open, then he lets out a loud whoop that earns us a few curious glances from the other guests.
”About time!” he hisses, slapping me on the back with enough force to knock the air out of my lungs. ”You”ve been dating for over a year now. How much longer does she have to wait?”
I feel my jaw tighten; his words hit too close to home.
It”s true. We”ve been together for a year and it”s been the best one of my life.
But becoming a guardian? A caretaker for Carmina”s two amazing little sisters? That”s another level of commitment entirely. And now that her paperwork for guardianship of the girls is approved, I want to make sure she knows I”m all in.
”So, what”s the plan?” Killian asks eagerly, already pulling out his phone to start researching proposal ideas.
I grin, feeling my nerves dissipate as excitement takes over. ”Well, I was thinking of taking her on a stroll through Kerry Park and then popping the question at Sopra or our favorite bookstore, The Rainy Page.”
Killian lets out a low whistle. ”Classy. Romantic.”
”Thanks.”
”And still not good enough,” he adds with a smirk.
I roll my eyes. ”Oh, do tell, oh wise one.”
”You need to make it personal. Show her you know her better than anyone else.”
”What do you want me to do? A C-walk with some Tupac playing in the background?” I tease before my face falls. ”Shit. She might actually like that.”
He laughs and shakes his head. ”No, man. Nothing that dramatic. Just... something that is uniquely you two.”
I nod, understanding what he means. Carmina and I have our inside jokes, favorite places, and special memories. These should be reflected in my proposal to her.
”Thanks for the advice,” I say sincerely.
Killian grins and claps me on the back. ”Anytime.”
Just as I”m about to hand over the grilling duties, disaster strikes in the form of a rogue drop of BBQ sauce launching itself onto my sleeve like a misguided missile. ”Damn it,” I mutter, my day of reckoning with laundry confirmed.
”Killian, can you man the grill for a minute? I”ve gotta deal with this,” I say, gesturing to the saucy mess on my sleeve. He nods, taking over with a chef”s flourish that could only come from watching one too many cooking shows.
Stepping back into the townhouse, a warmth envelops me. Not from the upcoming nuptials, but from the laughter floating down the stairs. Gabi and Val, Carmina”s sisters, are watching horror movies with their friends.
Their joy is infectious, and so is my smile as I head to the downstairs powder room to wage war on the BBQ sauce stain.
Mid-scrub, Carmina breezes in, announcing her plans to switch up the music to something closer to her West Coast roots.
I laugh. ”The Kidz Bop versions of NWA just weren”t cutting it for you, huh?”
”Definitely not,” she chuckles. ”But I”ll spare everyone the explicit lyrics.”
Still fighting the good fight against the BBQ sauce stain, I glance over. ”You know, if you start playing ”California Love,” I might have to break out my best Tupac impression.”
Carmina laughs, shaking her head. ”Please, the world is not ready for that. And I don”t think our guests would appreciate your... unique dance moves.” She moves in, her hands circling around my waist. ”Besides, I like my man to have two working ankles.”
“Hey, that was one time. And the floor was slippery, dammit.”
“And your music taste? I guess that was the floor’s fault too?” she teases, stepping closer, her voice lowering to that sultry timbre that always makes my heart race. She runs her fingers through my hair, pulling me closer for a kiss.
I melt into her lips, tasting the same BBQ sauce that is currently waging war on my shirt. But in this moment, I couldn”t care less about the stain or what anyone else thinks.
All that matters is this connection between us.
Lowering to my knees, I look up at Carmina, my gaze locking with hers in a shared moment of silent admission. The air between us charges with electric anticipation.
”You see,” I start, my voice a playful whisper, ”this is actually a strategic move to check if we missed a spot cleaning the floors earlier.”
”Oh, is that so?”
”Absolutely,” I reply, maintaining my facade of earnestness while taking her hand to place a dramatic kiss on her palm. ”And, as it turns out, the floor here,” I continue, gesturing vaguely at the space around us with my free hand, ”is spotless, thanks to your excellent supervision.”
”I see. Are all floor inspections this... thorough?”
”Only the most critical ones,” I say, lifting the hem of her ankle-length dress. My hands move slowly, deliberately.
The mood shifts, our laughter mixing with the charged air in the small powder room.
Her breath catches slightly as my hands navigate, tracing warm paths against her skin.
”I believe,” I murmur, locking eyes with her, ”in leaving no stone—or in this case, no inch of floor—unchecked.”
Carmina”s eyes glimmer with something deeper, tender and wild. This dance of ours, blending humor and desire, always leads us here.
Each quip draws us closer, wrapping us in a connection as tangible as the touch of her silky underwear beneath my fingertips.
I lean in, my lips brushing her thigh as I whisper, ”Plus, the view from down here is pretty great.”
We chuckle at my brazen remark before I slide the lacy garment down her legs.
As her underwear pool at her feet, I gaze at the glistening lips between her legs. I run my thumb along her clit, and she sighs, the sound filling the small room.
Without another word, I rock forward, closing my mouth around her clit as Carmina perches her perfect ass against the sink.
”Oh my God, Quentin,” she breathes. ”We can”t.”
I hum over her skin. ”We can.” I glance up. ”If you tell me to stop, baby, you know I will.”
Her earthy brown eyes stare down at me. Biting her lower lip, she shakes her head, her fingers threading into my hair.
She lowers her chin. ”Don”t stop.”
”You know I won”t.”
Without wasting a second, I lavish Carmina”s pussy with every inch my mouth, tongue, and teeth can cover. She”s sweet—warm beneath my lips. Every soaking centimeter is a gift, and I let myself be rewarded by every sigh, whimper, and cry.
Her legs shake beneath my hands, her head thrown back as she hisses to the heavens, her incoming climax making her tremble.
”Quentin, I”m... I”m...”
”Come on my face, baby.” I lick her the long way—frantic, my tastebuds eager for more. ”Let go.”
She does. And it”s exquisite.
Still in the throes of her orgasm, I can”t wait.
I stand, unbuckling my belt, sliding it to the floor along with my slacks and black boxer briefs. I bend Carmina”s supple body over the marble sink, planting a kiss on her slightly salty neck.
”Is this okay?” I rub my erection against her backside, and she grinds against me.
”Yes, Quentin. Yes.”
That”s all I need.
”Hold on, baby. This is going to be a ride.”
But ”ride” doesn”t do us justice. Nothing does when we come together like this.
Testing the snug fit of Car”s pussy, I piston forward and inside.
We gasp together, shocked at the sudden pleasure. I allow a second for the fullness to settle before stroking out and in again, gripping the curve of her hips.
It”s a fantasy to see her like this. In the mirror over the sink, I watch her. Eyes squeezed shut. Mouth open.
Her pink lips are still parted when I slip two fingers inside her mouth, one hand still clutching her hip as I continue to pump. Long strokes. Lengthy slides. Gyrating thrusts taking us to the edge of nirvana and back.
She starts to suck at my fingertips, and it”s all I can do not to come right then. She”s the heaven I”ve been seeking, the solace my soul never knew it needed.
I lean forward, mouth against her earlobe. ”Marry me, angel. I”ve never wanted anything more in my entire life than you.”
In the mirror, Carmina”s eyes fly open, staring back at me as she comes. I follow, plunging over the edge of ecstasy until we”re both spent.
Using both hands, I hold her closer, bringing her body to mine as we ride the wave all the way to the ground.
When our breathing finally slows, I adjust her dress, letting it fall nearly to the floor. Carmina stands up straight, and we both stare at each other in the mirror, my body still stick straight behind hers as a silent understanding passes between us.
In between breaths, my soon-to-be fiancée licks her swollen lips. ”What did you just say to me?”
I blink at the shiny reflective glass. ”I”m pretty sure you heard me, Miss Sanchez.”
”Quentin,” she says, her voice heavy with emotion. ”If somehow you slipped and didn”t mean to ask me to marry you just now?” She blinks. ”I don”t freaking care. I”m going to hold you to that.”
I grin, feeling victorious. ”Good. Because I wouldn”t want it any other way.”
She turns to face me, and I take her hand in mine, both of us still grinning like fools.
”Well then,” she says, her voice filled with mischief. ”I guess we better start planning this wedding.”
I hold her closer, inhaling the scent of her skin and the lingering smell of sex. ”Guess so.”
She places her head on my chest, and we both exhale together. She blows out a heavy breath. ”Where do we start?”
My hand rubs slow circles on her back. ”Well, I know one thing for sure. There”s no way we”re letting you pick the DJ.”
We both burst into laughter, the tension of the proposal breaking in a wave of joy.
”Fine,” she says playfully. ”But you don”t get to choose the cake flavor.”
”Oh, I”ve already got that covered. Val”s going to use some of the materials she used for her latest potato clock invention. It”s going to be a mashed potato cake with bacon sprinkles.”
Carmina looks at me with mock horror. ”You”re not joking, are you?”
”Never,” I reply, kissing her forehead. ”But I promise it will be the most delicious and unique wedding cake ever. And speaking of food, I should probably get back to the grill before Killian burns what”s left of it.”
”How long do you think we have before he gets too cocky and starts a fire?”
”I”d say we”ve got about five to seven minutes.”
Carmina chuckles and gives me a quick kiss. ”Well then,” her fingers land on my shirt buttons, unfastening them, ”we better use them wisely.”
I lift her up in my arms and set her on the edge of the sink, her legs wrapping around my waist. ”I couldn”t have said it better myself.”
Leaning forward, I close my mouth over hers, feeling her lips part, her body and heart once again welcoming me inside.
***
There’s more irresistible billionaires, family drama and unexpected romance to come.
Especially when Carmina and Quentin attend the wedding of Jenny and Ryder’s dreams.
And keeping their relationship low-profile proves more difficult than they thought..