Epilogue #2
I crash my lips against hers, swallowing her moans as she becomes unbearably tight, body going taut before her release barrels through us both.
She pants into my mouth, quivering with the force of her climax, and heat surges in my veins, coiling in my spine as it races through me. I explode, filling her entirely.
I drop her leg, falling into Willow as she collapses over the railing, the both of us floating down from the stars together.
I run my tongue over her glistening spine, tasting her sweet skin, savoring the feel of her heavenly body against me—her breathing and her scent.
Dipping my finger inside her, I push back in the climax that’s begun seeping out.
I definitely have a breeding kink. I’m addicted to finishing inside her, watching it drip from her afterward. In my imagination, I’m filling her with babies, watching her grow with the life of my child, and blessing myself with the privilege of making her a mother.
It took about a year before Willow healed enough from her trauma to feel comfortable forgoing condoms, but once we reached that point, I realized just how addicting it is to release inside her bare. From there, my mind ran rampant. Desperate to fill her in every conceivable way.
Though, she’s still on birth control. We’re not there yet, and for now, we’re happy exactly how things are. I travel so much for surfing, and when I’m home, I’m a trainer at a nonprofit Willow founded, Healing Tides.
It offers free therapy, art, and athletic courses to low-income and uninsured families in the Southern California area.
Willow has a team of counselors that work with people of all ages, trauma, and disabilities.
She teaches painting and has a team of volunteers that run youth camps, art classes, and recreational athletic leagues.
I manage the youth surfing program, along with Livia when she and Lou are in California.
We bought a beautiful home in Dana Point last summer—ensuring there were plenty of extra bedrooms for whatever kind of family we may create someday.
We adopted a dog, Pinto, because Willow thought she looked like a bean when she was a puppy.
Hopefully, if our next conversation goes well, we’ll spend the next year or so planning a wedding, and maybe I’ll get lucky enough to knock her up on our honeymoon.
And even if none of that comes to fruition, even if I never win another medal, never compete again—if all I get in life is her, I’ll consider myself the luckiest man on the goddamn planet.
I’m still inside her as the words, “Marry me,” leave my mouth.
When Willow’s spine goes rigid, the reality of it sets in.
Fuck.
Yes, I planned on proposing to her tonight.
Yes, I wanted to do it at sunset on our final evening here in Tahiti.
Yes, I got caught up in fucking her instead, and I may be panicking a little as the sun rapidly fades from my grasp, but the request rushing out while I’ve got her naked body pressed against the railing and my cock still buried inside her was a complete slip of the tongue.
“I’ll ask again,” I say on a breath. “In a more romantic way. I swear. I have the ring. It’s in the room. I was going to take you out here and get down on one knee, but I fucked you instead, and now I’m losing daylight and—”
She straightens, and I pull out of her, stepping back to give her space as she spins around. She lifts her chin, glancing up at me through hooded eyes, my stomach leaping into my throat as I anticipate her response.
It sinks back down, butterfly wings taking its place when a soft smile spreads across her sated face. A giggle follows it, and she clamps a hand over her mouth, nodding rapidly.
“Yes, I’d love to marry you, dork.”
Thank God.
I surge forward, grasping her hips as I pull her into me, feathering my mouth over hers. She kisses me fiercely, arms looped around my neck as we remove every ounce of space between our bodies. I force myself back from her, knowing how easily it’d be for me to be caught up in her lips all night.
The sun has fallen beneath the ocean behind Willow’s head, but streaks of deep orange stroke the sky, and lavender clouds float between the twilight stars just beginning to appear.
“Stay here,” I rasp, kissing her once more before I turn around, running back inside our suite.
Willow laughs as I make quick work of putting underwear back on. “I’m going to keep my last name, though, just so you know,” she calls from outside.
“Great,” I say, sweeping her favorite silk robe off the chair beside our bed. “I’ll make it my last name too.” I grab the box from my nightstand drawer before heading back outside.
Her jaw is dropped, eyes misty as she watches me make my way back toward her—shocked. “You . . . You want to change your name?”
“Yeah.” I help her slip the robe over her shoulders, and as she ties it at her waist, I add, “The name Ashford doesn’t mean a goddamn thing to me.
That was his name. The name Graham?” I smile, gently gripping her chin as I tilt her head up and hover my lips over hers.
“It got me here. Gave me you. It’s a good one. ”
“Yeah,” she breathes. “It is.”
I kiss her gently, and her astonished eyes only widen further when I fall to both knees in front of her.
She laughs again, shaking her head as she looks down at me. “You don’t need to do that.”
“Yes, I do.” I nod. My hands are fucking trembling as I fiddle with the box in my hand. “You deserve a proposal worthy of your favorite romance novels, and I know this isn’t that. Truthfully, I wanted to propose to you at a million different points in time over the past five years.”
She wanted to wait until she finished school, and then we got caught up opening the center, and I began training for the Olympics, and it felt like life got in the way, but now I realize that none of that matters so much.
“Thousands of tiny moments when I’d watch you sleep, or the sun would catch your eyes in the perfect light.
When you’d tilt your head back in laughter, and suddenly my favorite song was playing.
” Her misted eyes well with tears, and my throat thickens with emotion.
“The day you graduated college. The pure joy on your face when you passed your licensing exam. Or that afternoon last month when I sat in on one of your classes, witnessing the patience and understanding you show those kids. The way your entire face lights up when you’re working.
The sound of your whistle when I’m on the waves, reminding me that you’re watching. Rooting for me.
“I’m in awe of you always, and every second with you feels serendipitous and somehow destined at the same time. Every breath and laugh and smile is significant. Every moment with you is worthy of a grand gesture, including this one.”
“Wes,” she whispers, a tear spilling over her cheek. She bends her knees, as if she’s going to meet me on the ground too, but I shake my head, squeezing her hip—an unspoken plea that she stay in place.
“When I won that medal, you’re who I looked for in the crowd.
When I rode that winning wave back to shore, you’re who I searched for the minute my feet hit the sand.
When I was asked how I felt, what it was all for, and what it meant to me by every reporter—my mind drifted to you.
When I sat down for that interview today, I wanted so desperately to call you my wife, and I don’t think I can go another day without seeing this on your finger .
. .” I shakily open the box, and Willow gasps as her eyes fall on the ring—oval cut on a diamond band.
“I can’t promise every second is going to be extravagant and grandiose, but I can promise you a lifetime of tiny gestures and stolen moments—an everyday life that is worthy of the love you deserve, Willow. ”
She’s crying now, and it’s not until she bends over, wiping the tears from my own cheeks that I realize I’m crying too.
Brushing her trembling lips over mine, she whispers, “I love you so much, Weston.”
“I love you,” I whisper back, slipping the ring onto her finger before grasping her face and kissing her deeply—with every fiber in my being, every atom in my bones, and all of the force inside my soul.