Epilogue
E arly January, one year later
“I did it!” Lucy shouted, sliding to a stop at the bottom of the bunny slope.
“Well done,” Gabriel said, smiling at her victory.
It was her fifth time down the slope, but the first without falling. Several times in the last hour, he’d suggested they head home, but she wasn’t having it. It was her first lesson, and she was determined to make it down at least once without a tumble.
He should have known it would be like this. She was always pushing herself, always digging deeper. It was one of the things he loved about her.
“I can definitely see how this could be fun one day,” she said, a little breathless.
“Some people say skiing’s better than sex.”
Her eyebrows went up. “Are you one of those people?”
“Not after meeting you,” he said, giving her a lascivious grin and planting a kiss on her chapped lips. “Now let’s get you home.”
“I can’t believe even with all the time I spend hiking and snowshoeing, a bunny slope took me down,” she said, climbing into the truck. “I can barely walk.”
“You’re using your muscles differently. You’ll get used to it.”
“Good thing we have a hot tub, but you may have to carry me to it.”
“Whatever you need, hot stuff.”
They drove away from the slopes, through town—which was thronging with tourists—and down the roads they’d both traveled so many times this past year. He still had to catch himself from turning into Len’s driveway from force of habit, but today he remembered his destination was another three miles down the road.
They’d looked at a number of cabins in the fall but had both fallen in love with this one the second they saw it. Though the kitchen was slightly less modern than Len’s, it had everything they could want, including a back deck with a private hot tub and a little outbuilding that housed a sauna.
The mudroom was already a clutter of snowshoes, cross-country skis, and now the skis they leaned in the corner.
“Need some help?” he asked, taking off his own boots, jacket, and snow pants until he was down to his dark blue silk long underwear.
“You should never wear anything but this,” she said, sliding her hands down his chest, then under the hem of his shirt.
“You think?” he said with a smile, nuzzling the spot behind her ear.
She leaned her head against his chest. “Definitely.”
“You gonna get out of all this gear?”
“Too tired.”
“I’ll help you.” Pulling off her hat, he kissed her forehead, then her cold nose.
She was smiling as he unzipped her jacket and hung it on a hook.
“Hold on to me,” he said, crouching down to pull her boots off.
He was planning to build a bench where they could sit to take off their boots, as well as store things. He needed to get on that.
Lucy’s hand settled on his shoulder. “Remember that time you had to undress me, when I wore the dreaded cotton long underwear?”
“Remember? I couldn’t think of anything else for days.
He pulled her snow pants down like he had on that day more than a year ago, and she stepped out of them. He ran his hands up her strong, shapely legs, still covered in her base layer, and wished she were already naked. “At the time, I was too worried about you dying of hypothermia to enjoy it, but later I thought about those sweet breasts and wondered how you’d taste. I thought about the sounds you made when I took you against the wall, and how I wanted to hear you make them again.”
Her fingers were in his hair, pulling him toward her. He could smell her arousal through the silk.
“Lucy.” He pressed his face to her heat, breathing her in. No matter how much he had of her, it was never enough.
She gasped, her knees giving way, and he stood up, swinging her into his arms.
“What are you doing?”
“Showing you what I wanted that day,” he said. “Unless you’re too tired.”
“I’m tired, not dead.”
He headed down the hall and lay Lucy on their king-size bed. By the time he’d shed his own long underwear, she was naked too.
“I feel sorry for everyone who isn’t me,” she said, reaching for him.
He paused at the side of the bed, humbled into stillness. No matter how many times they came together, it was always somehow new, exhilarating but safe. Like skiing down the steepest mountain toward home.
He climbed in beside her and pulled the covers over them both to warm her chilled skin, then moved lower. Holding her hips, he dipped his head and tasted her, savoring her moans and all the cues she gave him.
When she was panting his name and pulling his hair, he crawled up her body, kissing her satiny skin as he went.
“That day I spent hours wondering what I’d do first if I got another chance. Taste those tight little nipples”—he pulled one into his mouth, sucking and tugging until she writhed beneath him—“or your sweet honey pot.”
“Honey pot? Seriously?”
He moved his hips then, gliding through her wetness until she groaned. “But really, I knew I’d kiss you first. Because I hadn’t done that nearly enough our first time.”
“Gabriel, I swear to God—”
He kissed her then, swallowing her threats.
She was trembling all over. She’d already been exhausted when he started this. Maybe he ought to go easy on her.
He smoothed her hair back from her face. “I’ll give you whatever you want, babe,” he said, entering her in one slow thrust.
The image of her standing before him that day, shivering and in need of help, merged with their first wild encounter against the wall. He wanted her in every way possible, every way she would have him.
He was lost in her silken heat, too far gone to tease or draw her further out. Soon she was pulsing around him, and he let himself go, groaning into her neck as he found his own throbbing climax.
“Good grief,” she muttered into his hair.
He lifted his head and smiled down at her. “That’s not exactly the sweet nothings I was hoping for.”
“You get plenty of those,” she said, running her fingers down his back.
He kissed the smile in the corner of her mouth, next her neck, and finally the little valley between her breasts before rolling off her.
“Where are you going?” she murmured, her eyes already closed.
“Letting Hilde out. Back in a second.”
“Mm, okay.”
Hilde was lying right outside their door. She looked up at him with a long-suffering look.
“Such a good girl,” he said, giving her an ear scratch.
He’d loved Hilde before she saved him, but now, well, there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her. She got the best treats, the longest walks, and the highest praise.
He let her outside, then watched from the window as she did her thing. Too cold to be out there when he was buck naked.
It was good to be here alone with Lucy after the craziness of the holidays. Their trip to Florida to spend Thanksgiving with her family had been great, but also full of flight cancelations and delays, and then there was Christmas with his family and the New Year’s Eve party they threw.
The New Year’s party had been his idea, and possibly overkill, but they’d had a great time.
Tomorrow was the anniversary of Ricky’s death, and he wasn’t going to fall apart. He still mourned him every day, but he’d come to terms with his loss in a way he hadn’t thought possible.
Lucy had bought a candle that would burn for twenty-four hours in his memory. He’d light it in the morning and check in on Teresa, and then he’d let himself remember the amazing times he and Ricky had shared together.
Opening the door, he called Hilde in, then headed back to Lucy.
“You’re so cold,” she said, shivering as she wrapped her arms around him.
“Sorry.”
“I was thinking,” she said, pausing to yawn. “We don’t have to go somewhere exotic for our honeymoon. We could come here.”
“Is that what you want?”
“We’ve already been places I would have picked for a honeymoon. Plus, you have that Switzerland trip in May. It might be nice to lie low.”
“True, and we’ve never come here in the summer. You’ll love it.”
“Then we’re agreed?”
She was so lovely, so everything he’d ever wanted or needed. How did he get this lucky?
“Absolutely.”
“Perfect,” she said, laying her head right over his heart.
“Perfect,” he agreed, and kissed her again.