Epilogue #2
I wanted the situation with Maxwell and Tsepov resolved for the Sinclairs’ sake, but I wasn’t in a rush for life to move on. So much change so fast, and a part of me was still reeling.
In the space of weeks, I'd gone from swearing I’d never speak to Evers again to practically living with him. I was just fine with things staying the same for a little while.
Evers was not.
We’d gotten into the habit of swimming after dinner. In the heat of summer, it was a great way to decompress after a long day. Me, alone with Evers, mostly naked. I couldn’t think of many things better.
One night, a few weeks after Cynthia went back to L.A., I jumped in, ready to wash away a day of phone calls and social media posts. Most days I loved my job. That was not one of those days.
Evers dove in after me, scooping me up and pinning me against the side. He kissed my neck, one finger toying with the strap of my raspberry bikini.
"What's this?" he asked, deftly untying the bow behind my neck.
"Umm, it's my bathing suit?"
Evers peeled the top down, flicked open the bow at the back, and tossed the bikini top on the flagstone at the side of the pool where it landed with a wet plop.
"Didn't I tell you the new rule?"
I shook my head, distracted by the pluck of his fingers at the bows on my hips holding my bikini bottom together.
"I've instituted a no-bathing-suits rule," he said, freeing my bottoms and tossing them to join my top at the side of the pool.
I thought he'd been wearing trunks when he came out of the house, but as I skimmed my hands down his sides, I realized somewhere along the way they'd disappeared.
"That's going to be awkward when people come over to swim," I commented, reaching to palm his cock, curling my fingers around his hard length.
"The rule is suspended when we have company," he conceded, "but only then. Otherwise, this pool is skinny-dipping only."
I opened my mouth to make a smart-ass comment, but Evers' lips stroked the sensitive skin under my ear and words fell away. His fingers worked between my legs, chasing away whatever I'd been about to say.
Walking backwards, Evers made his way to the stairs in the corner, drawing me with him. He sat and pulled me to straddle his lap, filling me with his cock in one smooth stroke.
We'd found a lot of ways to have sex in the pool. A lot. This was my favorite.
Buoyant in the water, I rocked on top of him, his hands and mouth everywhere. Tasting, stroking as my clit ground into the base of his cock with every roll of my hips, over and over until I tumbled into orgasm.
Twice.
There's a reason the stairs are my favorite spot in the pool.
The second time I came, my nails digging into Evers’ shoulders, he followed me, his hands tight on my ass, his length filling me with each hard thrust, his groan of release music in my ears.
After, when I would have moved away, he tightened his arms around me until I draped myself over him, my wet hair trailing down his shoulder.
His damp lips nuzzled my ear. "Marry me."
"What?" I couldn't have heard him right.
"Marry me," he repeated, leaning back as I sat up to stare at him.
"Did you just ask me to marry you while we're having sex?"
"Not while. After." He braced his weight on one arm, his other hand on my hip, anchoring me in place. I pushed my hair out of my face, mouth gaping, at a loss for words.
"Are you serious?"
"Completely serious." He raised a finger to trace my cheekbone, his eyes level on mine, showing not a hint of levity.
He wasn't joking.
"Do you have a ring?" I asked.
"Not on me."
"Not on you? Does that mean you have a ring?" If he had a ring, he'd been planning this. If he had a ring, he hadn't asked by accident.
Evers sat up, wrapping his arms around me, and brushed his mouth across mine.
"I've had the ring for weeks. I was going to wait.
Wait until things calmed down. Wait until all the shit with my dad is resolved.
But I don't want to wait. I don't want to put our lives off because of other people.
I love you. I want you to be my wife. I want to stop this back and forth with your condo.
I want this to be our house. I want you to be mine. "
"I am yours," I said, reeling.
I'd assumed we'd get here eventually. He'd already told me he planned to propose. Someday. I never expected someday to come this fast.
"We can have a long engagement," he said, a hint of concern in his eyes. "Weddings take a while to plan anyway. But I don't want to wait to put my ring on your finger."
Still trying to figure him out, I said, "What if I want to get married now? What if I want to go to Vegas and do it tomorrow?"
"Do you?" He shifted on the steps as if to stand, startling me into a laugh. My hands closed over his shoulders to hang on.
"No,” I gasped, “I don't want to get married in Vegas."
Evers settled back onto the step. "But you do want to get married? To me?"
I thought about teasing him over his clearly unplanned proposal.
Then I thought about him buying the ring weeks ago, hanging onto it, probably debating the best time and place to ask.
I thought about the words spilling out now, when we were connected, as close as two people could be. I wasn't going to tease.
"Yes," I said. "Yes, I want to marry you. I want to be your wife."
His mouth closed over mine, and when he pulled away he murmured, "Thank God. I was starting to think you were going to say no."
"When have I ever said no to you?" I asked.
"Except for the time you threw me out and didn't speak to me for two months?"
"Well, you deserved that. And aside from that, when have I ever said no to you?"
"Never. I still needed to hear you say yes."
I kissed his jaw, loving the scrape of stubble against my lips, the beat of his pulse under his skin. "Of course, it's yes."
Evers stood, laughing as I shrieked in surprise, tightening my legs around his waist, twining my arms around his neck. Ignoring our wet bathing suits at the side of the pool, he walked us into the house, up the stairs to the bedroom.
Evers dropped me in the middle of the bed, my limbs splayed out, my wet hair everywhere. I started to sit up.
"Stay there," he ordered. "Just for a minute."
Crossing the room to his dresser, he opened the top drawer and pulled out a small, royal blue velvet box. He padded across the room, the planes of his body gleaming in the dim light. I could look at Evers naked all day. Opening the box, he pulled out a ring and slid it on my finger.
"If you don't like it—"
The solitaire sparkled, simple and beautiful.
"I love it."
Evers stretched out beside me, threading his fingers through mine, his eyes locked on the ring on my finger.
"Ever since I bought it I've been imagining seeing it on your hand just like this." He drew our hands to his mouth, kissing my finger beside the ring. “I never knew how much I wanted this until I lost you. Then it was all I wanted. You, beside me, forever.”
“I knew,” I said. “I just never thought you’d want it, too.”
“With you?” Evers asked, “Forever with you sounds like heaven.
Yet again, Evers was right. Forever with him was heaven.