Epilogue
Zara
One year later
I straddle Myles, pleasure thrumming through me. His hands trace my breasts, my tender nipples, sliding down the curve of my stomach to my clit, pleasuring me the way only he can.
He thrusts upwards, and I gasp as he fills me with his cock. I moan, riding him, sliding up and down as his fingers work their magic. I’ll never get tired of this.
He groans, shifting position, rolling me over onto my back.
He hooks one of my legs over his arm, opening me to him, bracing himself as he slams in and out of me, his abs contracting.
Pleasure rushes through me like waves and I arch my back, playing with my nipples, offering them to his hungry mouth.
His raven hair falls forwards, his grey eyes dark with desire.
He bends his head, kissing me, his hands and mouth moving on my skin as I spiral towards ecstasy, taking him with me.
When it’s over we lie together for a while, limbs entwined, our breath slowing. Absolute bliss. Myles kisses my neck, his hand moving lazily across me, tweaking my nipple.
“How was that, Mrs Brandon?”
“I suppose it will do, Mr Brandon,” I say. “Though I do think we need to do it again, just to be sure.” I smile, love shimmering through me as I take his hand and bring it to my lips, kissing the platinum ring on his finger.
There’s a matching band on my ring finger, though mine is studded with diamonds to match my engagement ring. We threw a huge party when we got engaged, and it was wonderful. But when it came to actually getting married, we decided to do things differently.
“Hmmm.” Myles nuzzles my neck, his breath hot on my skin. “I’m sure that can be arranged.” His hand sweeps down my stomach, along the curve of my waist and my hip. “Although I’m feeling in need of breakfast. Nice as this bed is, we might want to get out of it at some point.”
“We might.” I’m unwilling to go anywhere, despite the fact my stomach is growling. “But we could just get up and bring the food back here. It’s not like anyone is waiting for us.”
“Hmm, this is true.”
His cock is stiffening against me again and I reach down to touch him, enjoying the silky smoothness. “I’m glad it’s just the two of us now.” I continue stroking him, his hard length twitching against my hand. “I love our friends, and their kids, but this is?—”
“Perfect.” He kisses the tip of my nose.
“The honeymoon we needed.” His brows draw together slightly.
“Although technically, there are three of us.” His hand comes to my stomach again and he kisses me, a deep kiss full of love.
“You’ve made me happier than I could have ever imagined,” he murmurs against my mouth.
The kiss deepens, his tongue sweeping my mouth.
His hand comes to mine on his cock, tightening my grip, sliding up and down.
“And don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, minx. ”
I should have realised, when we were on the yacht in the Mediterranean, what was going on.
I thought it was just seasickness but, after the third day of me throwing up, Sally and Eloise finally took me aside and told me I needed to take a test. I’d done it later that night, with Myles in our cabin.
When it came back positive he’d hugged me for what felt like an hour, tears in his grey eyes.
I’d been just as emotional, the two of us wiping each other’s faces in between kisses, amazed at what we’d created.
And now he alternates between treating me as though I need to be wrapped in cotton wool, and making love to me until I’m weak with pleasure. It’s pretty perfect, to be honest.
“’I don’t know what you mean.” I take in a breath as his hand slides lower, his thumb coming to my clit. I shift beneath him, my legs opening so the tip of his cock slides against me.
“You’re insatiable,” he groans, nipping my neck as he thrusts into me again.
“We can stop if you like,” I gasp, as he starts to move. “If you’re hungry.”
He lifts himself, bracing himself on his muscular arms, his body stilling against mine. He stares down at me, his mouth swollen with my kisses, his grey eyes hooded with desire. “The only thing I’m hungry for,” he rocks his hips against me and I moan, “is you. Do you want me to stop?”
I pull him down to me again. “We can eat later.”
Our wedding was perfect, too. We’d flown our friends and their kids to a villa on Lake Como, for what we told them was a wedding planning session.
With Scott as Myles’s best man, and Eloise as my maid of honour, it made sense.
But when they got there, we’d surprised them.
After dinner, Myles had led Scott, Sally, Anwar and the kids through to one of the ancient stone courtyards in the villa, while I made Eloise come upstairs with me.
She’d started crying as soon as she saw the white lace dress hanging on my wardrobe door, understanding immediately. She helped me get changed, putting the flower crown in place, laughing through her tears at my decision to go barefoot.
When we got down to the courtyard, even though I’d had an idea of how it would look, my heart still skipped a beat.
The space was full of lanterns, all lit with candles, rose petals scattered across the old paving stones, an echo of our first night together.
A celebrant from the nearby village was the only other person there, his copy of our vows tucked in one hand.
Myles, serious in cream linen trousers and shirt, his hands clasped behind his back, stood with Scott.
His raven hair was pushed back from his handsome face, and he only had eyes for me as I walked towards him on Eloise’s arm.
The kids were cheering, Sally and Anwar trying to keep them quiet, and Scott couldn’t stop grinning.
My memory of the rest of the evening is a bit of a blur, lots of hugs and dancing and kissing, rings on our fingers, rose petals in our hair.
Then, as night fell over the gleaming lake, Myles rowed me out to a private yacht moored just offshore from the villa.
We spent our first blissful night as husband and wife under the Italian moon, making love over and over. Like I say, perfect.
And now, as I float back to earth, Myles’s body still joined with mine, I wonder how on earth I got to be so lucky.
Myles smooths my hair back from my brow, collapsing on me. “You’re going to kill me, wife, but I swear I’ll die happy.”
Wife. I like that word. I like how he feels as well, his weight crushing me into the bed. I wrap my arms around him, determined not to let him go, but my stomach obviously has other ideas, growling so loudly Myles lifts his head.
“That’s it,” he says, pulling out and rolling off me. “You, and our child, need food.”
I pout, reaching for him, but my stomach growls again, louder.
Myles chuckles. “Come on,” he says, smacking me lightly on the backside. “Let’s shower and eat.”
“And then later?” I wriggle against him.
“Later, my irresistible vixen of a wife, I’ll make love to you until the stars come out, and then I’ll keep loving you. This is for ever, you know.”
I kiss him, long and soft. “I know.”
A short while later I’m standing on the terrace, my hair still damp, eating a pastry.
I’m actually starving, despite my protests to Myles about getting up, my morning sickness replaced by ravenous hunger.
Myles is in the kitchen putting together a meal of more pastries and fresh fruit, coffee already steaming in cups on the table.
The breeze off the water is cool, and I wrap my scarf around my shoulders as I lean against the railing, breathing it in.
Cruising the Med with our closest friends had seemed like the perfect way to celebrate our marriage, but after just a few days they insisted we go on alone, simply because I was so unwell. When Myles had asked me where I wanted to go there was only one choice, as far as I was concerned.
The way his face lit up when I said it makes me think it was the only one for him, too.
We arrived last night, checking in late, tumbling into bed together and making love as the ocean roared outside. I smile as I take in the familiar view, the beach and the curving pathway, the bench where Myles and I first kissed.
We’re back at La Coeur, where it all began.
“Breakfast is served.” Myles comes up behind me and wraps his arms around me. He’s wearing a sweater, the wool soft against my skin. I lean back into his embrace, twisting to look up at him. His hands are warm on my stomach as he kisses me, and I’ve never known such bliss, never felt so safe.
He’s the home I’ve always searched for. And now that I’ve found him, I’ll never let him go again.
Myles
I still can’t believe my luck.
I wrap my arms around my wife, kissing her smooth hair as she gazes out to sea.
My wife.
When Zara walked towards me dressed in white lace, a small bouquet of roses in her hand, it was all I could do to hold myself together.
She is everything to me; my partner, my lover, my best friend, the other half of my soul.
I’d smiled at her bare feet on our wedding day, knowing why she’d chosen to do it.
I don’t think I’ll ever get over the thrill of being married to her, of making love to her, of the way she turns me on.
But also the way she meets me all the way.
My heart overflows with love for her, for the fact she’s carrying our child.
I knew she would make me happy but I never dreamed it would be like this.
It’s early, mist partially obscuring the shoreline, cool damp in the air. No one seems to be around and it feels as though we’re the only people in the world. I revel in it, knowing she’s all I need to feel complete.
“We could go for a walk later,” I say, nibbling her ear. “If you’re up for it. There’s a nice bench down there, you know.”
What I really want to do is take her back to bed again, the soft curve of her backside pressing against me getting me hard once more. I’ve never wanted anyone so much, never loved anyone the way I love her.
“So I’ve heard,” she says, laughing. “I feel all right, actually. Honestly, Myles, I’ll be fine.”
“You don’t feel sick anymore?” I want to keep her safe from the world, from anything that might do her harm.
“A little, but I’m more hungry than anything.” She shivers, though, and I draw her with me back inside the warm apartment.
“Sit down.” I point at the table. “I have something to show you, anyway.”
“Oh really?” She raises her eyebrows but does as I ask, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth. I bring the food in from the terrace and put it on the table, then grab my iPad.
“Oh Myles, you’re not working, are you?” She’s frowning as she tears apart another pastry. “You promised.”
“And I’ve kept my promise, my love. I just wanted to show you this. The proofs from South Africa are in.”
“Oh!” She squeals, dropping the pastry and reaching for the iPad. I give it to her, then come around the table to stand behind her, dropping a kiss on her shining hair.
On the tablet are digital proofs, images from a recent photo shoot in South Africa. It’s the first one Zara art-directed, as part of her new role on the Ocean’s Curl design team.
She’d insisted on working, even when I told her she didn’t have to, paying the mortgage off on the tiny flat she’d bought herself, then offering it to someone in the community who needed it.
She also wanted to work her way up, not just be put in a role because she was with me.
I’d acquiesced, to a point. But it was clear as soon as she started in the Soho office that she was a natural, and we’d recently flown to South Africa for a photo shoot with Zach and Jade, modelling the latest Ocean’s Curl range.
“Oh, wow.” Zara has her hand to her mouth. “These look all right, don’t they?” She glances up at me, then keeps scrolling through the images. Zach and Jade, hand in hand, run along the beach together, golden and beautiful, laughing.
“They look amazing,” I say. “Well done, Mrs Brandon.”
“Are you ever going to stop calling me that?” She giggles, that goddamn gorgeous dimple appearing in her cheek.
“I’m just getting used to it,” I say. “That’s all. Need to practise. You know how it is.”
She stands, putting the tablet on the table and turning to me, wrapping her arms around my neck.
“What I know is that I love you, and I couldn’t be happier to be your wife.
” She punctuates the words with soft kisses.
I taste cherries and sugar, and a warm sweetness that is just her.
She looks down again at the tablet, at Jade and Zach, their arms wrapped around each other, staring into each other’s eyes, the wind in their hair.
“Do you think they’re as happy as we are? ”
I honestly have no idea whether or not they’re happy. Nor, at this moment, do I care.
“I don’t think anyone could be as happy as I am now,” I say, kissing her back. “Even I didn’t realise how it would be.”
“You didn’t?”
“I did not.” My hands slide lower, over her pert backside. I’m getting distracted again by the feel of her against me. “Mrs Brandon, are you wearing any underwear?” My mouth travels along her smooth jawline, and I bite her earlobe gently.
“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” she gasps.
“Challenge,” I say, sweeping her into my arms, “accepted.”
As it turns out, she isn’t.