Epilogue
LENNOX
Two Years Later
I run my hand over my expanding abdomen, exhaustion creeping in as I stand behind the reception desk at the newest Drake Resort. This one is in South Carolina; Sebastian wanted to offer another coastal vacation spot that had a more family feel around it.
We looked at properties up and down the East Coast, and when we stumbled upon this place, we both knew we could make it work.
I’ve had fun helping with the renovations and design decisions. The West Coast properties aren’t meant for children; they’re darker, more business-focused, and the people who vacation there aren’t fond of being splashed as they walk past the pool. But this location is light, airy and fun.
“Mrs. Drake, I’ve got a gentleman saying he booked a suite, but we don’t have any left,” the young woman who I’m training says as she walks up to me. Her eyes are as wide as dinner plates, and she’s shaking like a leaf.
“Okay, Gia, what we’re not going to do is panic. This is an easy fix. Let’s get into the system and see what’s happening.” I walk to the desk and smile at the gentleman who has clearly forgotten to bring his smile on vacation.
“Good afternoon, I’m Lennox Drake. Let’s see where things have gone wrong.” As I say my name, the man’s entire attitude changes. Suddenly he’s agreeable and smiling. As I type in his confirmation number, I point out things for Gia to take note of.
“While I seem to see you booked a room with two queen beds, unfortunately it’s not a suite.” I reach over and unplug the keyboard slyly and keep typing like I’m trying to figure it out.
“That’s not possible, I need a suite, I never book a regular room. That’s just ridiculous, your system screwed up. This is what I get for listening to my wife.” Just because we’re a family-friendly resort doesn’t mean we don’t have to deal with pompous guests.
“We are booked up this weekend with it being our grand opening, but I can give you access to the dining room that’s reserved for suite guests.
Just show this card at reception, and you will be able to access it.
And here’s a spa gift certificate for your wife.
” I grab a card, sign it with the dates for the length of their stay and hand it to the man.
Then I look up his wife’s name on the computer and make that card specifically for her.
He looks at it and smiles gleefully. “Thank you so much, that’s very generous.” He turns and walks away from the desk, and I look at Gia, who I think is less likely to pass out than she was a moment ago.
“Now, we won’t do that for everyone, but you’ll learn who’s going to cause issues and who will accept they’ve made a mistake.
When someone accepts it’s their mistake, upgrade their room.
It will get easier, you did well. Plug that keyboard in before we end up calling IT to find out why it’s not working. ”
We both laugh and when I look up, a handsome man is strolling in through the main entrance like he owns the place.
“Mrs. Drake, may I have a word?” The low timbre of his voice sends ripples through me.
“Absolutely, you can. Gia, you’re doing well, call me if you need anything.” I pat the young woman on the shoulder and walk out from behind the desk, sliding my hand into his outstretched one.
“You need to rest.”
“I’m fine, Seb. A few more hours and we can go get supper and call it a night.
” Our night management team has been carefully selected from the California resorts.
A relocation stipend and housing made it very lucrative for some well-trained people to move to this resort.
Sebastian and I know it’s in good hands when we aren’t here.
We ride the elevator up to the penthouse, and I lean against him until the doors open.
The dining room is lit with candles, and our meal’s already waiting. “What is this?” I ask as I turn to look at him.
“Happy anniversary, baby,” he whispers as he runs his hands over my bump. “We need to talk about something.” His words are ominous, and I don’t like the lurch in my stomach that can’t be explained away by the baby’s movements.
He takes an envelope off the counter and hands it to me before guiding me to a chair.
“Sebastian, you’re scaring me.” I open the envelope and pull out a document and look at it.
“We’ve completed our time together.” His voice is monotone.
“Okay? What are you wanting?” I frown and look back at the contract I signed two years ago.
“Are you staying?” He leans back in his chair, his face giving away nothing. His damn poker face is pissing me off.
“What the fuck do you mean by am I staying? I’m pregnant, I think the answer is pretty obvious,” I say, my voice rising.
“I need a yes or no, Lennox.”
“Fuck you, Sebastian,” I shout and throw the papers at him, before I stand and head for the door.
“Kathryn Lennox, don’t,” he says flatly.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t even think about walking out of this suite.
” He stands and pours himself a whiskey and takes a sip.
Suddenly as if I’ve been hit by déjà vu I know what this is.
“If memory serves me on a night very much like this two years ago, I offered you wine, and you chose whiskey. Now I’d love to offer you a glass again tonight, because as I seem to remember you were quite a bit more relaxed last time.
” He moves to me and places his hands on either side of my stomach.
“We’ll have to hold off on that type of beverage for a few more months.
” He leans down and kisses me, with the taste of vanilla, caramel and the woodiness of the charred oak barrels still on his lips.
“Are you staying with me?” he asks huskily when he pulls away from me.
“Well, since you’re so charming, how can I say anything but yes?” I wrap my arms around him and kiss him deeply. “I’m staying with you, Sebastian, for the rest of my life.”
He drops to his knees in front of me and presses his mouth to the curve of the bump through my dress.
“Hi, baby,” he murmurs against the fabric.
“You’re ridiculous.”
He looks up at me, and the candlelight does something unfair to his face, softens all the sharp parts of him I fell for in the first place. “Two years,” he whispers.
“Two years,” I agree. “And you’re still terrible at delivering news.”
“I got the answer I wanted.”
“You scared the hell out of me first.”
“Occupational habit.” He stands, slow, careful with me the way he’s been careful with me for months now, and his hands slide up to my shoulders and ease the straps of my dress down. “Let me make it up to you.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to.” His mouth finds my throat. “I’ve wanted to all night. Watching you run that desk, handling that idiot with the suite, pregnant and glowing and completely unbothered. I had to sit through an entire dinner pretending I wasn’t thinking about it.”
“Thinking about what?”
“You.” His teeth graze my earlobe. “Just you. The way you are now.”
I laugh, low, and let my head fall back as his mouth moves down my neck. “I’m the size of a house, Sebastian.”
“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” He says it flatly. “Let me show you.”
He undresses me slowly, he kneels to ease my dress past my hips and presses his mouth to the side of my stomach, to my hip, to the stretch marks I used to be self-conscious about and have stopped caring about because of exactly this, the way he touches them like they’re something he’s proud of.
“You’re staring,” I say.
“I’m allowed.” He reaches over and taps the contract on the counter.
“That’s null and void,” I say and laugh.
“I had Caroline change the terms. The duration is now a lifetime.” He stands, finally, and pulls his own shirt over his head, and I get my hands on his chest the way I always do, tracing the brand over his heart out of habit now more than anything else. “Bed.”
“Bossy.”
“You love it.”
“I do.” I sigh and let him pull me into the room.
He helps me down onto the bed because my balance isn’t what it used to be and my body doesn’t love sudden movements.
Once I’m settled, he just looks at me for a moment, propped on the pillows, seven months pregnant, completely bare in front of him, and something moves across his face that’s somewhere between hunger and something much quieter.
“On your side,” he says. “It’s easier for you.”
He climbs in behind me, easing me back against his chest, one arm sliding under my head, the other coming around to rest on the curve of my stomach. “I want this to feel good. All of it.”
“It always feels good with you.”
His hand moves slowly down from my belly, over my hip, between my thighs, and I’m already wet by the time his fingers get there because two years in, he still has this effect, instant and completely out of my control.
He traces slow circles against my clit, unhurried, and presses his mouth to the back of my shoulder.
“Sebastian—” I moan.
“I’m right here.” His voice is low against my ear. “Not going anywhere.”
He works me slowly, and I press back against him and feel him hard against my lower back and roll my hips just to hear him groan. His fingers slide inside me, slow and deep, curling in exactly the way he figured out very early on makes me come undone, and my breath starts coming faster.
“That’s it,” he murmurs. “Let me feel you.”
I come around his fingers with a soft, broken sound, my body curling around him, and he works me through it with his palm flat against my belly like he’s soothing both of us at once.
“Get inside me, I don’t want to have to ask twice.”
“Now who’s being bossy?” He laughs against my neck and shifts behind me, lining himself up, one hand guiding himself to my entrance while the other stays anchored on my stomach.
“Tell me if anything’s uncomfortable,” he says.
“Sebastian.”
“I mean it.”
“I know you do. Now move.”
He pushes into me slowly from behind, the angle easy on my body, his chest flush against my back, and I feel the low groan he makes vibrate through me before I hear it. He goes still once he’s fully inside, breathing against my hair, and I press back into him.
“I love you,” he says quietly. “I’m going to keep finding new ways to love you more every year after this, so you should know now that this only gets worse for you.”
“Worse.” I huff out a laugh that catches halfway into a moan as he starts to move. “That’s your idea of romance.”
“You married me, anyway.”
“I’m staying with you anyway,” I correct, breathless. “There’s a difference.”
“There really isn’t.”
He moves slow and deep, one hand still spread protective and warm over my belly, the other sliding up to find my breast, thumb brushing over skin that’s more sensitive than it used to be, and I gasp and reach back to grip his thigh, anchoring myself to him while he rolls his hips into me with the same unhurried, devastating patience he’s always had.
“Sebastian—”
“I know.” His mouth drags along my shoulder. “I know, baby. I’ve got you.”
He angles deeper and I gasp out, “Oh fuck, right there—don’t stop, don’t you dare stop,” the words tumbling out unfiltered.
He groans low against my neck in response, his hips picking up rhythm just slightly, controlled but no longer entirely composed.
His hand slips back down between my thighs and finds my clit again, working it in time with every slow thrust, and the combination of it—full and stretched and touched everywhere at once—builds fast.
“That’s it,” he breathes. “Come for me again. I want to feel you.”
“Sebastian, I’m—”
“I know.” His voice is wrecked now too, low and rough against my ear. “Let go. I’ve got you. I’ll always have you.”
I come apart around him with his name breaking out of me, my whole body curling into the cradle of his, and he follows almost immediately after, a long, low groan against my shoulder, his hips stuttering, his arm tightening around me like he doesn’t want an inch of space between us.
We lie tangled together afterward, his hand resting protectively on my stomach, feeling for movement, and the candles in the dining room burn low through the open door and the contract sits forgotten on the floor where I threw it an hour ago.
Two years, and I couldn’t imagine my life any differently. He branded himself into my soul and I’m not complete without him.
* * *