Epilogue
Kayden
Six Months Later
Irun from the ocean, warm waves lapping at my shins, the Mexican afternoon sun caressing my shoulders.
When I reach the shore, I shake out my wet curls, water ricocheting around me.
I smile as I run across the wet sand toward my man, who just happens to be not just the sexiest guy in Massachusetts but in Mexico, too.
He looks up when I stop in front of him, drops of water hitting him where he’s lying on his stomach, resting on his elbows, facing the ocean.
Caleb quickly puts his phone away under his towel, then smiles at me, something flickering in his eyes, something nervous and excited all at once.
“What are you doing?” I shake my hair again, hitting Caleb too.
It’s grown out a lot over the past months and almost reaches my shoulders in the back.
When I cook in our newly renovated kitchen, I have to put a band in it, and Caleb always curses later when he tries to untie it, impatient to bury his fingers in my curls.
‘Shit, those fucking curls, baby. They drive me fucking crazy,’ he says, when really, he’s the one driving me crazy.
“Nothing,” Caleb drawls, squinting against the sun. “Just looking at the most beautiful man in the world.” His eyes trail down my wet body, lingering a few seconds on my chest, on my almost-faded scars, before he drops his gaze to my light blue Speedo, and he licks his lips.
“Oh, yeah?” I drop down on the blanket next to him, then lean in for a kiss. He meets me halfway, smiling against me, humming happily.
“Yesss.” His eyes darken as he traces a finger along the curve of my back until it reaches the edge of my Speedo.
“It should be fucking illegal to be this delicious.” His fingers whisper back and forth across my lower back, and I melt under his touch as I grow hard behind my packer.
It was daunting the first time we went to the beach at home, and I was wearing my swim pants.
I was afraid people would look at me strangely, with my scars still noticeable, or that they’d be able to tell my packer wasn’t a real dick.
But as always, Caleb’s quiet strength grounded me, his hand safely wrapped around mine as we forged the waves and yet another chapter of our life together.
Now I don’t even give it a second thought.
I gasp as Caleb’s fingers dip underneath the waistline of my Speedo, just grazing my crease. “I’m pretty sure what you’re doing right now is borderline illegal.” Secretly, I love how he can’t keep his hands off me, even in a public place. “Who were you texting?”
Caleb’s been on his phone a lot today, and he promised me he wouldn’t work while we were in Yelapa, a small, secluded fishing village in Jalisco, Mexico.
The small town is owned by the locals, who have refused to permit roads into town and are active in preserving their way of life.
That way they’ve managed to stay less touristy than other places in Mexico, which is why we chose it in the first place.
We wanted a chill and laid-back getaway.
We’re staying at a small, family-owned hotel close to the beach, and it’s just so tranquil and exactly what we needed after some busy months adjusting to living and working together.
Caleb and Dad have been particularly busy over the past few months with two new major clients in Canada, and my man deserves a much-needed break.
Caleb stretches on the towel, the muscles of his back rippling, making my mouth water.
His skin has turned all golden under the Mexican sun, a dusting of lickable freckles scattered across his broad shoulders.
He’s let his scruff grow, giving him this sexy, rugged look. “Just checking the weather tomorrow.”
I roll my eyes because it’s been sunny all week, and it’ll be sunny tomorrow as well when we’re going on a boat trip.
“Huh?”
“What?” Caleb frowns at me.
“Nothing. It’s just that… if I find out Dad has you working while we’re away, I’m gonna kick his ass.”
Caleb snorts, then his eyes glaze over with that dopey expression that’s become so familiar to me whenever he thinks I’ve done or said something—
“You’re cute,” he drawls. “So fucking cute, baby.”
I scowl at him. “And you’re deflecting.”
“Never.” He bats his eyelashes, and I can’t help laughing. He’s just too adorable like this.
“I don’t believe you.” I lean in and bite his chin.
“Ouch! You little brat.” His eyes darken, heat flashing in them. “What color?” he near-pants, before pressing a kiss against my shoulder.
I shiver at his open display of affection in the middle of the day on a public beach. No one seems to care, though; people too engulfed in their own business, local families picnicking, children building sandcastles, their parents napping under colorful parasols.
“Lime green,” I sigh, and Caleb’s deep moan echoes against my skin.
“Lime green, huh?”
“Yes.”
“Baby, you’re gonna look so fucking good in lime green with that tan of yours.
” He shifts against me, a small telltale sign that I’m not the only one getting hard.
My man is borderline obsessed with my tan lines, spending way too much time tracing them with his tongue, peppering kisses along them every night, whispering sweet nothings against my skin, while I die a slow torturous death waiting for him to fuck me into the mattress.
“I know,” I tease. I brought ten jockstraps on our vacation, one for each night, all in different colors, and Caleb asks me every day what tonight’s color is.
And he doesn’t just ask me once, no, he keeps asking me throughout the day, not because he’s forgetful, but because it’s Caleb’s special kind of foreplay, reminding both him and me what is going to happen later, in the darkness of our hotel room.
I’ve never felt so desired, so sexy, so masculine before.
Caleb makes me feel that way every day, all the time, when he looks at me like he’s looking at me right now.
At night, he kisses me again and again, whispering, I love you, K.
I love you so fucking much, my special K, before he goes down on me, bringing me to places I never knew existed, then later takes my ass, pulling another orgasm from my sated body.
Caleb shakes his head. “You’re gonna kill me. Someday you’re gonna kill me.”
I just laugh, because he’s fucking killing me too, every time he looks at me like this.
“I thought we’d stay in tonight, have dinner on the balcony. I asked Camila to cook us something special, and her face lit up like a damn Christmas tree.”
Camila is the owner of the hotel we’re staying at.
She runs it with her husband Santiago, their daughter Sofia, and son-in-law Diego.
During the day, Santiago and Diego go off on their small fishing boat, and at night, Camila cooks these amazing seafood dishes for the guests at the small restaurant downstairs.
We’ve been eating there most nights, but having dinner brought to our room sounds divine, since we’re leaving early tomorrow morning with Santiago and Diego on the boat trip.
Yesterday we went on a long hike with a local guide, looking at wildlife and visiting the waterfalls, and my thighs are killing me.
I don’t think I could’ve dragged my ass up and down the stairs tonight even if I’d wanted to.
“Sounds amazing, babe.” I close my eyes against the sun, leaning my head against Caleb’s shoulder.
“Good.”
“I’m so happy we came here. I never wanna leave.” I hold out my wineglass across the small table on the balcony, and Caleb meets me halfway, clinking his against mine, the aquamarine glass sparkling in the candlelight.
“Yeah, me neither.” He smiles, a sated look on his face. His hair has that sexy, messy beach look where you just want to tug at the strands, and his cheeks are glowing from being in the sun all day.
“I know Mom was worried that we went off the beaten track a little, but I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.”
“I know. We have to come back. Maybe next year.”
I nod. I want to travel the world with Caleb, hitting one small piece of paradise after another. Being in new places no longer scares me because wherever I go, I’m with him, my Caleb.
“Ready for dessert?” he asks, and my mind immediately goes to the gutter.
“Thought you’d never ask.” I waggle my eyebrows, and he shakes his head, his bangs tumbling into his eyes.
“You’re impossible, you know that, right? I meant actual dessert, you know.”
“Oh. I guess I’ll just have to suffer through it then.”
“Camila made us Tres Leches.”
“I’d rather have your leche.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Caleb groans, then stands and walks inside, and I ogle his ass shamelessly. He returns with a small tray with pieces of fluffy looking cake arranged on two plates. There’s thick white frosting on top, decorated with chocolate-covered strawberries and pineapple.
“Well, I guess I can go for dessert before dessert,” I grin, licking my lips.
“Brat.” His voice spills over with fondness as he places a plate down in front of me.
“You love it.”
“Guilty, your honor,” he winks and my chest flutters with love for this man who just surprises me every day in the best possible way.
Caleb sits back down, his eyes suddenly intent and serious as he fumbles with his napkin.
“What?” I eye him, then reach for the small spoon next to me.
He picks up his spoon, too. “Nothing. Eat your cake, baby.” He nods at my plate, then digs his spoon into his cake.
I do the same, then lift the spoon to my mouth, closing my lips around the sweet, spongy texture, the taste of cream and sweet condensed milk exploding on my tongue.
It feels like my entire body is moaning, and I close my eyes in bliss.
“That good, huh?”
“Sooo good.”