Epilogue
JAMES
“Everything hurts,” Maura moans the second she walks in from the elevator.
I look up from my tablet. “What hurts?”
“My ankles. My hands. My shoulders. And my brain will, too, if you make me look at your damn schedule.” She glares resentfully at the tablet.
I chuckle and set the tablet down on the coffee table. “You're in luck. I was just clearing my schedule for the rest of the afternoon.”
Her hand goes to her heart as she dramatically feigns shock. “You what? I’m sorry, what alien infiltrated your brain and took over my husband?”
“An alien determined to spoil his wife, apparently. Come here.”
Standing, I cradle her face in my hands and gently drag my lips against her. Just a taste to satisfy me after a long day without her.
“Are you hungry?” I murmur.
She shakes her head. “They had so many macarons at the bridal shop, I don’t think I could eat another bite.”
“Good. Then let me take you upstairs.”
Her lips curve up into a flirtatious smile. “What for, husband?”
“I think you have some idea.”
Taking her hand, I lead her to the stairs.
She moves a little slower these days, always tired from the pregnancy or the late nights painting, but I take the opportunity to watch her hips sway as she walks into the bedroom.
Are they wider? I swear they look a little wider this week than they did last week. Damn. So perfect.
While my bedside table is still tidy and spare, Maura’s holds a giant pile of colorful paperbacks, a turquoise-colored vase she got in Greece filled with fresh yellow flowers, and a sketchbook, in case she gets any ideas at night.
My eyes no longer twitch when I see the chaotic mess.
Instead, it feels welcoming—a constant reminder of her.
She lets me unzip her maxi dress and slide it off her body.
My hands skim the sides of her breasts as I remove her bra, and I relish the way she shivers at my touch.
She slides her underwear over the swell of her hips, and I hold her hand to help her balance as she steps out of it.
I circle her, my cock growing even harder as I take in her gorgeous body, noting any tiny micro changes and finding a few more to memorize before they change again.
“I can’t get enough of you pregnant,” I murmur, dragging my hand over her bump. “You’re fucking stunning. It’s almost impossible to keep my hands off you.”
“You barely try anyway.” She laughs as I kiss up her neck. She’s right—every day that Maura has the energy, I drag her to bed, mostly without complaints.
Our lips and tongues meet in a warm, slow kiss that sends waves of want through me.
I drag my mouth away from hers to help her up on the bed. I tear off my suit while she finds a comfortable position back against the pillows. Once I’m bare, I crawl up her body and stare down into her eyes.
“Let me spoil you, wife.”
“If you insist,” she says, smiling sweetly. “But careful or I’m going to get used to being your pillow princess and I’m going to expect this sort of treatment even after the pregnancy.”
“Good. Because I don’t plan on stopping, Maura.”
My lips meet hers again, softly this time.
My tongue slides against hers in patient caresses.
When she’s lying boneless against the bed, I drag my mouth from her lips down her throat.
Her skin feels softer than silk, and a blush crawls up her neck as I adore her with my mouth.
My hands drift down over her sides, sending a shiver through her.
I kiss down over the thin line of her scar. She hid it from me for so long, but now, she trusts me completely with it. It’s an honor, being allowed to kiss and touch it.
My hands span her belly as I kiss down the center of it. Her body feels like home, and the rest of the world disappears as my lips move reverently over her skin. The word mine pumps through my blood, until it’s the only thing I can think.
Maura’s body trembles under my touch, her hips arching up toward nothing.
“You want me to touch you, baby?” I gaze up at her lust-darkened eyes, and she nods.
“Please, James. I need your fingers there.”
One hand teases her inner thigh while the other drags through the slickness at her entrance.
She whimpers deliciously at my touch. I nip and suck at her breasts while I stroke her clit.
Her chest heaves with shallow breaths, pushing her peaked nipples even further into my mouth.
Fuck, I could spend forever worshiping her perfect body.
Her slippery flesh trembles under my fingers as I tease her slick channel.
Slowly, I slide two fingers in, up to the first knuckle, then the second.
She lets out a sigh and spreads her thighs wider, welcoming me.
With a growl, I spear my fingers deep in her while I duck my head to lap at her clit with my tongue.
“Oh, god!” she shrieks, her hands diving into my hair.
Fuck, I know this won’t take long with all the time I spent stroking and kissing her.
She’s already pouring into my mouth, her inner muscles clenching hard around my fingers.
Her thighs hug my head tight, and I can practically feel our hearts pumping in time with each other.
I lick her little clit relentlessly, soaking up the cries falling from her mouth.
The smell and feel of her surrounds me until it feels like I’m drowning in her musky jasmine scent.
The flat of my tongue presses hard against her as I wait for that final, delicious sound of her screaming my name as she comes.
“James!” she shrieks. Her hands yank at my hair for purchase as she comes all over my mouth for a long, perfect moment. I close my eyes, memorizing the taste and feel of her. I don’t know how many more peaceful afternoons we’ll get before the baby comes.
Maura’s eyes are half-lidded when I raise my head. “Let me draw you a bath,” I say.
She shakes her head. “What about you?”
“I’m extremely fucking satisfied right now that I’ve watched you come so prettily for me.” I kiss her thigh, then her hipbone. “Besides, you took my cock perfectly this morning. I don’t want to get too greedy.”
Before she can argue with me, I roll out of bed and stroll to the bathroom. I can feel the heat of Maura’s eyes on my back and shoulders, and I can’t help flexing my muscles a bit to improve her view.
It only takes five minutes for me to fill Maura’s bath. It’s lucky, since she often falls asleep so quickly these days, if it took me any longer, I’d find her snoozing.
“The bath’s ready!” I call.
When she opens the door, the scent of jasmine drifts out, along with warm steam. The lights are dimmed, and I’ve lit a scented pillar candle. Her lips curl into a satisfied smile. “Oh, James, this is exactly what I needed. How did you know?”
I hold her hand to help her balance as she steps out of them. I don’t let go of it until she’s safely settled in the tub.
“How’s the water temperature?”
“Perfect,” she moans. “I swear, you somehow crawled right into my head and figured out exactly what I like.”
Luckily, it’s also what’s safe for the baby.
I pull over a stool to sit beside her and take her hand. Over the past few months, I've mastered the art of massaging Maura’s hands. She's been working so much, her fingers are often exhausted from crushing stones. I know exactly how much pressure she likes.
Maura sinks back, her eyes fluttering closed as the warm water soothes her muscles. She looks so lovely at rest, when all the tension seeps away from her muscles. I should draw a bath for her more often.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and Maura stirs.
“You should get that,” she says, not opening her eyes.
“They’re just work emails. They can wait.”
She snorts. “James, I know you’re dying to look. You have absolutely spoiled me, and I’d be happy to sit here and luxuriate while you do your form of relaxation.”
“I’ll just skim the subjects,” I promise her.
The top email is from my PR woman, Sharmi.
Subject: Peppermint – Possible ID.
My heartbeat slows to a dull thud. We’ve been chasing Peppermint for so long, I’d started to think they were unfindable. I’ve started to wonder whether it was a ghost. Even the possibility of finding them is more than I expected.
“Actually, I better take a look at this,” I tell Maura.
She waves her hand. “Go. Let me soak. My muscles are happy.”
With a final kiss on her temple, I head to my office and open my laptop. I didn’t want to read this in front of Maura. I don’t want her worrying about anything right now. This is my problem to solve, whoever Peppermint is. Taking a breath, I open the email.
Our PI has finally narrowed down the people we believe might be behind the Peppermint persona.
One name jumped out to me, since I believe she’s a friend of your wife—Brinley Windsor.
We were able to hack through the Tea’s IP address, and it matches her apartment building.
It could be another residence, or someone planting a false lead. What do you think? Could it be her?
I reread the email twice as a deep pit grows in my stomach.
Because yes, Brinley is clever, sharp, and witty enough to be Peppermint. She’s got an ax to grind with me, Luke, Beau, Nate, and Ryan. Motive, opportunity, ability—they all match.
Fuck. When Maura finds out, she’s going to be devastated. Her best friend hasn’t just been keeping a massive secret from her—she’s actually shared my wife’s private life with the public. It’s a betrayal that’ll strike Maura to the core. I’ll have to deal with the news extremely fucking carefully.
If it’s true that Brinley is Peppermint, I know her target wasn’t Maura.
It was me. I can’t even blame Brinley for it—I know how hurt she was by what the guys and I did.
She’s still exacting revenge years later, using our own misbehavior against us.
There’s a certain fairness to it. If my wife hadn’t been collateral damage, I might have found it in me to forgive her.
A few months ago, I would have been focused on revenge—on ruining the woman who did this.
Now, I’m mostly concerned with managing my wife’s reaction.
It’s a lot to handle and her emotional and physical safety have to come first. Even if that means I have to be a little less ruthless with her friend than I’d like.
I type back a response to Sharmi.
Re: Peppermint – Possible ID
Brinley is a possibility. Please confirm as soon as possible. I need irrefutable proof before I can move forward.
Because she’s just as much of a workaholic as I am, Sharmi answers quickly.
Will do.
I slide my phone back into my pocket and gaze at the painting on the wall. It’s one of Maura’s, of course—a warm, gold and ivory piece with a touch of pearlescent peach, made from smashed vintage coral beads. It fills me with a sense of deep peace.
Brinley and Peppermint can wait. I head back upstairs to see if Maura needs help getting out of the bath.
As it turns out, while I was busy answering emails, Maura got out of the bath and back into bed. She’s snoozing curled up on top of the covers with the lights on, a book in her hand. Exhaustion must have crept up on her. I fetch a spare blanket to drape over her, then crawl into bed beside her.
I rest my hand over Maura’s belly. Underneath, I think I feel the small flutter of our baby moving.
It might still be too early for that, but I choose to believe it’s him or her saying hello.
I know once we’re living through late nights of crying babies, I’ll miss this—the quiet of just me and my wife together in bed.
Right now, though, I can’t wait. I want to meet our child and see the little person Maura and I made together.
Because I know they will be perfect.
Whatever happens next, with the baby, the gossip, Maura’s heart, my friends, I’m still glad this is where I ended up. With this woman in my bed, in my life, and in my arms.