Epilogue
CANDACE
" D o we really need three bags of marshmallows?" I asked, watching Tank toss another bag into our cart.
“Olivia insists on making sweet potato casserole this year, and Liam wants to roast them over the fire pit," he said, smiling as he discussed our eight-year-old daughter and five-year-old son. "Plus backup. You know how competitive your parents get about dessert."
I laughed, checking items off our list. The grocery store was packed with last-minute Thanksgiving shoppers, but I didn't mind.
These quiet moments together had become precious since the kids started school and Tank moved his entire operation to Wildwood Valley.
Who would have thought that my ex-military trucker husband would end up running a nationwide transportation company from our kitchen table?
The same table where we'd first made love ten years ago.
It had been my idea, actually. After Olivia was born, I'd taken a job as director of the small town library, and Tank had been commuting back and forth to Charlotte for three years.
One morning, watching him pack his overnight bag again, I'd simply said, "Why don't you just move the office here?"
"Here?" he'd asked, like I'd suggested he relocate to Mars.
"That table's seen plenty of action," I'd teased. "Might as well see some business too."
Now his laptop and phone occupied one end during the day, while we ate breakfast at the other. Best of both worlds.
"Remember when our biggest worry was whether canned cranberry sauce counted as gourmet?" I nudged him with my elbow as we headed toward the produce section.
"Now we're debating organic versus conventional everything." He wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me closer. "Though I still say that first Thanksgiving was perfect."
“Even with my parents?”
“That part was great too, but I’m talking about before we were…interrupted. Especially that first time on my kitchen table.”
Heat pooled in my stomach at the familiar rumble in his voice. Ten years of marriage, two kids, and he could still make me melt with just a look.
In the produce section, Tank leaned over my shoulder, ostensibly reaching for a bag of apples. "You know," he said against my ear, his breath sending shivers down my spine, "the kids won't be back until tomorrow morning."
My pulse quickened. "Tank Williams, are you propositioning me in the grocery store?"
"Maybe." His hand brushed my hip as he straightened. "When's the last time we had the cabin to ourselves?"
I couldn’t remember. Between work, kids' activities, and life in general, stolen moments had become rare treasures.
"We have groceries to finish," I said, but my voice came out breathier than intended.
"We do." He moved behind me as I selected vegetables, his chest brushing my back. "But your parents aren't arriving until four. That gives us plenty of time to…prep."
Loading the groceries into our SUV twenty minutes later, Tank’s hands lingered every time he reached around me. When he leaned over to arrange bags in the back, I caught a glimpse of the muscles that still made my mouth water after all these years.
"Candace." His voice was rough when he turned to find me staring.
"What?"
"Get in the back seat."
"Here? In the grocery store parking lot?"
"There's a service road about half a mile back. Nice and private." He stepped closer, crowding me against the SUV. "What do you say, Mrs. Williams? Want to make some new memories before we make Thanksgiving dinner?"
The way he said my married name still sent heat racing through me. I glanced around the parking lot, then back at his dark eyes.
"Drive," I said.
Seconds later, the engine rumbled to life, and I climbed into the back seat, my pulse already thrumming. I slid down the middle seat to turn the back row into bench setting, grateful we’d moved the kids’ boosters to my mom’s car when we dropped them off—just in case they had to go somewhere.
Tank’s fingers flexed around the steering wheel as he pulled out of the parking lot, his gaze flicking to the rearview mirror every few seconds like he couldn’t stand not looking.
Settling into my seat, I considered the seatbelt, but that would get in the way of what I wanted to do.
It was a short drive. I’d live on the edge for a few minutes.
I held Tank’s stare in the reflection as I slowly peeled off my sweater, letting it drop beside me. His jaw tightened, but he kept driving, his knuckles whitening around the wheel.
"Like what you see?" I teased, unhooking my bra with deliberate slowness.
A low growl escaped him as the fabric fell away, baring my breasts to his hungry gaze. "Fuck, Candace."
I smirked, trailing my fingers down my stomach before popping the button on my jeans. His breath hitched when I shimmied out of them, leaving me in nothing but my panties.
"Eyes on the road, Tank," I said, though I knew he couldn’t resist looking.
He swallowed hard, his grip on the wheel tightening as I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my panties and slid them down my legs. His nostrils flared when I let them drop to the floor, completely naked now, sprawled across the back seat just for him.
"Almost there," he gritted out, his voice rough with restraint.
I arched my back slightly, letting him see everything in the mirror—the way my nipples tightened under his gaze, the flush spreading down my chest. "Take your time," I purred, dragging a hand up my thigh. "I’m not going anywhere."
His foot pressed harder on the gas.
He finally turned onto the secluded service road. The SUV barely came to a stop before he was out of the driver’s seat and yanking the back door open.
"You’re fucking killing me," he growled, climbing in with me.
I laughed as he hauled me against him, his hands already everywhere—cupping my breasts, sliding down my hips, gripping my thighs to spread them open for him.
"You’re the one who told me to get in the back," I gasped as his mouth found my neck.
"Best damn decision I ever made."
His mouth was hot and demanding, kissing me like he needed my mouth on his to breathe.
I arched against him, my fingers already working at his belt, tugging it free before slipping beneath the waistband of his jeans.
He groaned when I wrapped my hand around him, stroking slowly, relishing the way his hips jerked into my touch.
“Fuck,” he muttered, forehead dropping to my shoulder.
I smiled, shifting lower, pressing him back against the seat. “Let me take care of you.”
His grip tightened in my hair as I moved down his body, trailing kisses along his stomach before taking him into my mouth.
He cursed again, his thighs tensing beneath me, his breath coming rough and uneven.
I loved this—the way he lost control when I touched him, the way his voice broke when I swirled my tongue just right.
“Candace—” His fingers flexed, not pushing, just holding on. “Baby, if you keep doing that?—”
I pulled back just enough to glance up at him through my lashes. “Then what?”
He exhaled sharply, his gaze dark. “Then I won’t last.”
I hummed, pleased, before taking him deep again. His hips lifted off the seat, his groan vibrating through me, and I dragged it out, slow and torturous, until he finally tugged me up with a growl.
“My turn.”
He flipped me beneath him in one smooth motion, spreading my legs wide.
The cool air surrounding us contrasted with the heat of his skin as he settled between my thighs, his mouth finding all the places that made me gasp.
His tongue circled my clit, then flicked over it until I was rising up, up, up…
and biting my hand to stifle a cry as my orgasm rushed through my body.
By the time he finally slid inside me, we were both trembling. He moved with the kind of practiced rhythm that came from years of knowing each other—deep, relentless strokes that had me clutching at his shoulders, my nails digging in.
“Look at me,” he said, and I did, locking onto his gaze as he rocked into me.
I reached between us, circling my fingers over my clit, the added pressure sending sparks through my veins. His pace stuttered when he realized what I was doing, his breath ragged.
“That’s it,” he urged, his voice rough. “Come for me.”
And just like that, I came for a second time, my back arching as pleasure ripped through me. He followed moments later, his hips jerking as he spilled inside me with a groan, his forehead dropping to mine.
For a long moment, we just breathed, tangled together in the aftermath. Then Tank shifted, pulling me against his chest as he reclined against the seat. I curled into him, tracing idle patterns over his skin.
“We should probably get back,” I said, though I made no move to leave.
“Mmm. In a minute.” He pressed a kiss to my hair. “We’ve got time.”
I smiled, tilting my head up to look at him. “Can’t believe it’s been ten Thanksgivings together.”
“Eleven,” he corrected, grinning when I rolled my eyes.
“Right, eleven. That first one barely counted.”
“It counted,” he argued. “We spent it with your parents.”
I laughed, remembering. “Thirty-six hours after we met, my dad was interrogating you. Insane.”
“Best Thanksgiving ever…until the next and the next and the next….”
I kissed him then, slow and sweet, before resting my head back on his chest. Outside, the wind rustled the leaves, and somewhere in the distance, a car passed by. But here, in this quiet space with him, time felt endless.
“We really should go,” I said again, still not moving.
He chuckled, his arms tightening around me. “Yeah. We should.”
But neither of us made a move to leave. Soon enough, but not just yet.