40. Epilogue
EPILOGUE
S ix months later….
"Okay, sign here, here and here."
My hand is cramping up, but I skim the miles of fine print in the contract, then go ahead and place my signature beside the little yellow flags my lawyer has placed on all the appropriate places. With clinical precision, he flips the page. I sigh.
Sensing my apprehension, he assures me, "Last ones."
They damn well better be. With another quick review of the text, I go ahead and sign.
Finally— finally —he takes the packet from me. He pages through it, then stacks all the seemingly thousands of documents we've just reviewed together.
"All right, Ms. Cohen, that's it. You're officially no longer a home owner."
"Thank God."
He smiles and stands, extending his hand. I take it and shake firmly, then withdraw. "I'm sure you're glad to be done with all of that."
He has no idea. I nod, then gather my things. He escorts me to the front of his office and bids me farewell.
And yeah, maybe he lingers at the doorway a little too long, watching. Judging, maybe. But I don't care.
I step out into bright sunshine, soaking in the scent of spring. With the sale of my grandmother's house, a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I feel lighter than I can ever remember feeling before.
It shows, too, as I dance into Adam's waiting arms. He's waiting for me at the end of the path.
When I reach him, he picks me up and twirls me, and I laugh, buoyant and carefree.
The law office is at my back. People could be watching, but it doesn't bother me.
I focus on the brilliant eyes in front of me, the soft lips just waiting to be kissed.
I lean in, and it never gets old. His mouth touches mine, and heat runs up my spine. He clutches me close, licking forward with his tongue for just a moment before letting go. He sets me down and tucks me under his arm to walk me to the van waiting to take us home.
"So? Everything go smoothly?"
"Yup." I'm free and clear. A sizable deposit should be sitting in my account by the end of the week. It's a relief to have the whole matter of my grandmother's estate behind me.
Best of all, it makes things really official. Really settled.
I live down the road now, with my five partners.
These past six months, we've worked hard to find our balance. It's still a work in progress, but what we're doing works for us. I chip in toward the bills and help Deandre in the workshop. I cook once a week and do the dishes on weekends.
I work on my art. I tutor a few students in town on Tuesday afternoons. I have a life.
And I also have love. So, so much love.
I lean into Adam's side a little harder, soaking up his warmth. With a chuckle, he dips down to press a kiss to the top of my head, and I preen.
The guys' truck is idling in the parking lot across from the law office. Adam opens the passenger side door for me, and I climb in.
"Hey, baby girl," Deandre says from the driver's seat. He clamps a big hand on my thigh, and there's promise there, in the way he strokes his fingertips across the seam of my jeans. I shiver.
We didn't exactly have a discussion about it, but it only stands to figure that the sale of my grandmother's house is reason for celebration. Tonight is going to be special—I can feel it.
Deandre sure seems up for it. As Adam climbs into the back seat behind me, Deandre swoops in, claiming my mouth, and I let him in happily. He tastes like coffee and desire. Even after all this time, he has the power to possess me. To make me weak in the knees.
Humming, he pulls away, and it's a good thing, too. His kiss makes me so wet, I'm half ready to climb right on and ride him here in the parking lot. But being open about my unconventional living arrangements is one thing; actually having sex in public is another.
Though maybe someday…
I clench down inside. In the rearview mirror, I meet Sergio's eyes. He raises a brow knowingly, and I flush hot.
Yeah. It's going to be a really, really good night.
I let my fantasies spin out as Deandre puts the van into gear. He puts on some of his sexy music, and man, that doesn't help matters, but I'm not exactly one to complain.
I do have some other things to think about besides the growing need between my legs, though.
Fighting to focus, I pull out my phone and text my dad, letting him know that the closing went smoothly.
He replies with his thanks. We trade a couple more messages back and forth; it's about as much catching up as we ever do, but it's warm enough.
About a month after my return, once the guys and I started settling into a new equilibrium, I bit the bullet and admitted to my father that I had moved into the old Tucker place.
He'd expressed some concern, but I'd promised him that I was happy and well cared for, and he had left it at that.
He hadn't asked if I was there just as Cayden's friend or as something more.
I hadn't volunteered. But when he does eventually probe deeper, I won't lie.
I live the way I want to, and I have nothing to hide.
The small town at the base of the mountain slides away as we drive.
Before I know it, we're climbing the twisting road up Lonely Peak.
The 'SOLD' sign sits, bright and cheerful, at the bottom of the fork that would lead up to my grandmother's house—or, what used to be my grandmother's house until about ten minutes ago.
It was bought by some reclusive rock star or something.
I didn't ask for the details. All I know is that the guy intends to live there for at least a few months of the year, and that he doesn't plan to tear the place down entirely, and that was all I needed to know. Eventually, I'll meet my new neighbor.
For now, though, I'm focused on the house appearing in front of me.
The old Tucker place.
My home.
And it's exactly, exactly where I want to be.
While Deandre, Adam and Sergio unload the stuff from the supply run they carried out while I was dealing with paperwork, I head on in.
The whole place has a slightly different vibe than it did when I first arrived.
There might not be fussy coasters or vases, but one of my paintings hangs on the wall in the living room.
The small guest room I was first installed in has become my studio, while I now have my own bedroom, decorated in precisely my taste, with a big king bed that I occasionally invite my lovers into—when I'm not sharing their beds, that is.
It's good. Perfect. Right .
"Uh-oh," Jax says, standing in the doorway to the kitchen. "I know that smile."
"You do?" I unwind my scarf from around my neck and hang it up with my jacket. I leave my boots behind, too, padding over to him in my stocking feet.
It puts us at a serious height disadvantage as he leans forward and tweaks my nose. "Sure do. Means you're being unbearably smug."
His tone is teasing, but I don't let it get to me anymore. It's never meant in any harm.
Instead, I lift a brow in a challenge of my own. "Think you can bear me anyway?"
"With pleasure."
With that, he puts his hands on my waist and lifts me up.
I squeal happily, but the sound is cut off by the hot press of his mouth to mine.
A second later, my spine hits the wall. My breath is punched out of me as he crushes me into the plaster, his big, strong body pressed up against every inch of mine.
Just like that, the lightness of our back and forth is gone. The air between us goes suddenly, shockingly hot. Electric desire shoot up my spine.
He plunges forward, fucking my mouth with his tongue and reaching between us to cup my pussy through my jeans. I moan, throbbing for it.
"Well, hello to you, too," I mumble against his mouth.
"Hi."
I slam my head back against the wall as he moves to attack my throat.
Dammit, I'm going to have to wear another scarf tomorrow.
He's sucking hot bruises all up and down my neck, and who am I kidding?
I should just invest in a whole crate of scarves, for how often I walk around covered in love bites from my possessive, sexy, enthusiastic men.
My eyes roll back in my head as he tongues at a particularly sensitive spot. My pussy drips, and my nipples pebble into achingly hard nubs. God, I want it.
Before these guys, I'd only had a handful of sexual partners. I went more than a year after Richard and I broke up.
Now I get fucked daily—sometimes several times a day, sometimes by more than one man at a time, and it's never enough.
Beside me, a throat clears. I flutter my eyes open against the onslaught of pleasure Jax is wringing form my body to find Cayden standing there, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
Paying no attention to the fact that his best friend is rubbing me off with the heel of his hand between my thighs, he tilts his head to the side.
"Stuff go okay in town?"
"Yeah." I suppress a groan, bucking into Jax's touch. "Signed—signed all the stuff."
"Good. And the guys got everything they needed?"
"Think so. They're—" My voice cracks as Jax cups my breast through my clothes. "They're bringing it all in now. I think."
"Roger that," comes Adam's voice from the doorway.
"Fucking hell, Jax, we need to get you fixed?" Deandre asks. "Hump every damn thing in sight, I swear."
"Nah," Jax says, panting. "Just this one."
Another shiver of need hums through me. I've made my peace with the fact that them treating me like an object when they're fucking me turns me on—just like they've learned where the line is and how not to cross it when we're not in the middle of epic sexy-times.
Which I can say we definitely are right now.
"Can't say I blame you there," Deandre says, much closer than he was a minute before.
I turn my head to the side to find him right there. I reach out, curling my fingers in the fabric of his shirt and hauling him in. He kisses me, as deep and heavy as he did in the car, but with the potential for it to really go somewhere this time.