Epilogue
LEXI
The trailer rocked gently with each movement, the thin walls doing little to muffle the sound of my name on his lips.
“Lucas,” I gasped, clutching at his shoulders as he thrust deeper, his breath rough and uneven against my ear. His skin was hot, slick, and familiar—everything in the world I wanted.
His body was a sculpted masterpiece above me—broad shoulders rolling with every powerful drive, the thick cords of muscle in his arms flexing as he braced himself over me.
His chest, carved and hard, brushed my breasts with each thrust. His abs clenched tight, rippling with the effort of holding back, every ridge and valley glistening with perspiration that dripped onto my stomach.
My own body answered him—slender curves arching off the narrow mattress, my thighs trembling around his hips, skin flushed pink from the heat we generated. My breasts bounced with each impact, nipples peaked and begging.
The thick length of him stretched me perfectly, every inch dragging along my inner walls with deliberate, punishing slowness, the head of his cock buried deep. My wetness coated him, easing each glide, the sounds of our bodies joining loud in the cramped space.
“Say it again,” he growled, voice low and raw.
“I love you.” My voice trembled, not from uncertainty but from the overwhelming truth of it. “God, I love you so much.”
His mouth found mine—hungry, claiming, reverent. He kissed me like he was starving, tongue sweeping in to taste me, teeth nipping at my lower lip until I whimpered into him.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured against my lips. “You walk into a room, and I forget how to breathe. You look at me, and I know exactly who I’m meant to be.”
I tightened my legs around him, drawing him in closer. The angle shifted, and he hit even harder, the blunt pressure making my breath hitch.
“You already are. You’re mine.”
He groaned, burying his face in my neck. “Say that again.”
“You’re mine,” I whispered, and his body shuddered.
He came in me like a storm breaking open—strong, inevitable, breathtaking. His hips snapped forward one last time, burying himself to the hilt as he pulsed inside, hot and thick, flooding me with every spurt. The sensation of him spilling deep, marking me from the inside, sent me over.
My walls clenched around him in rhythmic waves, milking every drop as I came. I clutched him so tightly it felt like I could hold time still, my body trembling with aftershocks, thighs quivering around his hips as he stayed buried, grinding slow circles to prolong the pleasure.
When it passed, he stayed there for a long while, his forehead pressed against mine, our breaths syncing in slow rhythm. Outside, the faint sounds of the set filtered through—the low hum of production life resuming around us.
I felt completely and totally at peace.
I’d taken several days off from filming after everything happened—what had started as simply a recovery period had turned into one of the most precious times in my life.
Lucas and I had stayed at Dominion Hall, in the suite he’d taken near his Montana brothers.
We’d slept too much, made love even more, and talked for hours about things that had nothing to do with danger or fame or fear.
I’d healed. My shoulder, yes—but also everything inside of me that had gone brittle from years of pretending.
Now, I was back on set, and instead of anxiety, I felt something else. Gratitude.
Grateful that I’d survived. Grateful that Hannah was safe and getting help.
And grateful—achingly, endlessly—for the man who had changed everything I thought I knew about love.
I slipped off Lucas’s lap, wincing at the soreness he’d left behind, and pulled on a soft silk robe. He sat back, watching me with that half-smile that made my stomach flutter every time.
“You’re supposed to be resting before your big scene,” he said.
I smoothed my hair and grinned at him in the mirror. “I was.”
He laughed under his breath, standing to put his shirt on. The dark gray fabric stretched across his chest, the muscles underneath shifting with every small movement. “You sure you’re ready for today?”
I turned, tying my robe and brushing a kiss against his jaw. “I’ve never been more ready. I’m finishing this movie. And then, maybe, I’ll start a new one—ours.”
He caught my chin between his fingers, tilting my face up. “You already did, my love. You just don’t know it yet.”
I smiled, because he was right. I had decided to keep making movies—not because I owed it to anyone, but because I loved it.
The work. The storytelling. The quiet alchemy that turned chaos into meaning.
But I’d promised myself to do it differently this time: slower, on my own terms, with boundaries that kept me whole.
And I was listening to Lucas now when he said my safety mattered more than any role or red carpet. I believed him.
An hour later, I stood beneath the bright lights of the rebuilt set. The vanity mirror gleamed like new, no trace of what had happened here weeks ago. The whole place smelled faintly of fresh paint and makeup powder. It didn’t make my chest tighten.
“Ready?” Franklin asked. His voice was softer than usual, like even he understood what this meant.
I nodded, taking my mark.
“And—action.”
The lines came easy, natural, like muscle memory—an apology, a confession, a final goodbye.
I delivered them to Benji with a steady voice and a full heart.
When the camera drifted in for the close-up, I let my real emotions slip through—the gratitude, the love, the quiet ache of everything we’d survived.
“Cut!” Franklin called. “That’s a wrap, everyone!”
Applause filled the room. Crew members cheered. Someone popped a bottle of champagne. I laughed, blinking back tears.
Franklin handed me a mic, and I turned to face the cast and crew who had stood by me through the worst of it.
“I just want to say …” My throat caught, but I pressed on.
“This film will always mean more to me than any I’ve ever done.
Because it taught me what real strength looks like.
It taught me what love feels like. And it reminded me that sometimes, the hardest things we go through are the ones that lead us exactly where we’re meant to be. ”
There was a murmur of agreement, a few claps. I smiled through my tears. “So, thank you. For your patience. For your support. And for—”
A deep voice interrupted from the back of the room. “For not firing your bodyguard when he broke every rule in the book.”
Laughter rippled through the crowd. My head whipped around.
Lucas.
He was walking straight toward me, wearing that half-smile that always undid me. The set lights caught the glint of something in his hand.
“Lucas,” I breathed, the mic lowering from my hand. “What are you—”
He stopped in front of me, close enough that the noise of the room seemed to fade. “You said this film changed your life,” he said quietly. “So, I figured it was the right place to change mine, too.”
The crowd hushed. The air crackled.
Then he went down on one knee.
My hand flew to my mouth.
“I’ve spent my life protecting people,” he said, his voice rough with emotion.
“Men who’d give everything for the person beside them.
Missions that counted. But it was all about duty—about surviving the next day, not living it.
And then you walked in, and I realized what all of it had been leading to.
Every scar, every night I thought I wouldn’t make it—it brought me here. To you.”
My eyes blurred with tears.
He pulled the ring from his pocket—a simple band, gold with a single emerald-cut diamond that caught the light. “You’re my beginning and my end, Lexi Montgomery. And if you let me, I’ll spend every damn day proving that you’ll never have to face anything alone again.”
The world around us fell away. I could only see him. Hear him.
“Marry me,” he said. “Be Lexi Dane.”
A choked sound escaped me—half laugh, half sob. “Yes,” I whispered. “Absolutely, yes.”
The room erupted in applause and cheers. Someone shouted, “About time!” and Franklin was actually crying.
Lucas rose and pulled me into his arms, kissing me like we were the only two people in existence. The ring slid onto my finger—a perfect fit, warm from his hand.
“I love you,” I said when we broke apart, my voice trembling.
He smiled, brushing his thumb over my lips. “Say it again.”
“I love you.”
He kissed me once more, slow and claiming. “And I love you, Mrs. Dane.”
Laughter bubbled out of me, bright and uncontainable. “We’re still on set,” I whispered.
“Don’t care.”
I leaned closer, my lips brushing his ear. “Is it wrong to be horny in a soundstage full of people?”
He grinned against my neck. “Not if it’s for your husband.”
“Future husband,” I corrected softly.
He kissed me again, deeper this time, his voice a promise when he murmured, “Not for long.”
His ring gleamed under the lights, the diamond catching fire as he held my hand up for the room to see.
What began in darkness had found its light.
And I knew—we were only just getting started.