Epilogue
brINLEY
B eau picks his place, and I let him, because his is closer and I am wearing entirely too many clothes for how this night is going to end.
He keeps a hand at the small of my back the whole way to the elevator, and even now—dress, heels, the warm hum of two glasses of wine—my brain won't fully let go of work. Beau has been my favorite distraction from the Copper Cup rebrand, a project that's eaten every second of my time.
Even as we ride the elevator down to his, I have to admit I’m thinking about the front window display almost as much as I’m anticipating him stripping this dress off me.
Half the shop looks the same as before, while the other half has the new Peppermint Press branding.
The romance recommendation wall has already been installed, and the old café furniture has been replaced with couches.
The walls still need to be painted, I’m still using up the Copper Cup branded coffee cups, and our non-romance merchandise is still 30 percent off, to help me clear out inventory.
My back office is even more of a mess than usual.
Logo concepts are pinned all over the wall, and Eden’s event planning notes are piled in a small pyramid on my folding desk.
Together, we’re filling out the first month of romance author appearances, subgenre-specific book clubs, and premiere parties.
Honestly, the whole thing is exhilarating.
It feels like I’m building something new from the bones of something old, and it feels right in a way the anonymous version of myself never did.
The Copper Cup was my proudest accomplishment, but the Peppermint Press will be me in business form.
It’s the most personal thing I’ve ever shared with the public, blog posts included.
I hope the world likes it.
“Hey, where are you right now?”
It’s Beau bringing me back to earth as the elevator doors slide open, a gentle thumb on my jaw, guiding me to him.
I smile a smile that’s half cringe and he laughs.
“You’re off the clock, Brinley Baby.”
“A small business owner is never off the clock.”
“Touché,” he says, licking his lips. “Guess I’ll have to fight for your attention, then. Challenge accepted.”
He drags me into his apartment and I stop short. The only times I’ve been to Beau’s have been when he held parties for the group. And a couple times after we became public, but he’s been pretty adamant that we spend time together at only mine lately and now I know why.
“Wow.” I look around the living room, taking in the espresso-colored wood floors, the low emerald-green seats and sofas, the plush floor rug, the electric fireplace, and the almost completely-empty bookshelves. “You’ve done some redecorating since the last time I was here.”
“Yeah.” He laughs and shoves a hand through his hair. “I had an interior designer come in. I realized that I spent a lot of time designing the kitchen, and very little time putting thought into anything else.”
I walk toward the couch, dragging my fingers along the soft fabric.
The room is massive, but Beau’s decorator managed to make it feel cozy.
The open concept apartment means I can see into the kitchen, with its ivory cabinets and marble countertops.
The vision of reading a book on the couch while looking up to watch Beau cooking fills my head.
It’s a nice vision.
“Do you like it?” he asks.
“Ninety percent of it, I love. But come on, what’s with all the empty bookshelves? You have like three cookbooks and nothing else.”
“You know I’m more of an audiobook guy. Besides, I didn’t really get them for me.”
I spin on him and find him looking slightly sheepish. “No. No, you didn’t. Tell me you didn’t just Beauty and the Beast me.”
“What?”
I poke him in the chest. “You totally Beauty and the Beast -ed me. You got me a library!”
“You’re giving me way too much credit here, Brin. I didn’t buy you a bunch of books or anything, just empty shelves you could put yours in if you want.”
“Because you want me to move in.” I can’t stop the grin tugging at my mouth. “Because you love me. Because you want me and my ten thousand romance paperbacks all to yourself.”
He grabs my hips and pulls them against him. “Can you blame me? I don’t want to push you if you don’t want it, though. There’s no rush.”
I laugh. “We’ve been together for five years, Beau. I don’t think it’s possible to rush anything at this point.”
“Yes, but I planned on enjoying all the little firsts we didn’t get to do the first time around. The first date, first meeting of the family, first time spending the night…”
“We already did everything out of order. Might as well move in together, then have our first date.” I run my fingers up his biceps.
Beau raises his head before I can kiss him. “Do you mean it?”
All jest is gone from his eyes. They watch mine with an intensity that makes my belly flip. “You really want to move in?”
I cock my head at him. “Of course, I do.”
His face splits into a rare lopsided Beau smile that he tries to cover with a hand brushed over his mouth and a throat clear.
“Now, that’s settled,” he says, and a glint of mischief shines in his eyes as he takes my hand and leads me down the hallway to his bedroom.
When he opens the door, I’m left with no doubt that this room was also designed for me.
The walls are painted a dreamy blue, and the bed is draped with complementary deep blue blankets and pillows.
More empty bookshelves stand next to a set of ivory armchairs, perfect for curling up and reading on.
One of Maura’s paintings hangs on the wall.
“I love it,” I breathe.
He comes behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. “100 percent?”
“One hundred and one, even.”
“Let me show you my favorite part of the room.” He shifts me so we’re looking at our reflections in a tall, wide mirror. “Do you like the mirror, Brinley?”
His large hands drag over my stomach and my hips, tracing a line under my breasts. I inhale sharply as goosebumps rise on my skin. God, we look good. He should wear a suit jacket more often. My gaze snags on where the fabric is stretched taut over his biceps.
“Yes,” I murmur. “It’s very nice.”
Beau slowly unzips my red dress, and I watch him work in the mirror as he reveals inch after inch of my skin.
He pulls it off my shoulders and pushes it down my legs to the floor.
Next, he kneels and lifts my left foot onto his thigh to undo the straps of one short heel, then the other.
His fingertips skate gently up my calves and thighs as he stands.
“You’re so beautiful, Brinley baby.” He runs his fingertips up my arms until I shiver.
His lips brush my collar and shoulder as he moves to stand behind me.
“I’m obsessed with your body. Did you know that every time your shirt rides up a little when you reach up for something, it drives me fucking insane? ”
“No.”
I know Beau loves my hips and thighs, and I’ve taken plenty of advantage of that. But just a glimpse of my lower back turning him on—I never guessed.
I watch as mirror-Beau kisses along the line of my shoulder, drawing a line up my neck with his tongue. Heat rises under my skin everywhere he touches me.
“I’ve been thinking about this for months,” he says roughly. He undoes my bra clasp. Once my breasts are bared, he cups and squeezes them languorously, savoring the weight of them. “Undressing you in front of it. Making you watch yourself come. Fucking you, right here.”
His mouth grazes the curve of my shoulder.
“Every time I bought a piece of furniture for this place, I asked myself— would Brinley like this? Would Brinley be comfortable here? I told the interior designer I needed a chair big enough for two and that specific oceanic shade of blue you love for all the bedding She thought it was for my wife .”
The way he says those words goes straight to my head and my core tightens.
His fingers slide into my hair. “She had no idea I was just hoping. Hoping I'd get to bring you home one day.”
His fingertips dip under my panties, stroking me between my thighs. I arch back, moaning slightly at the touch and at the image of Beau behind me, fully clothed and so big, while I’m naked and vulnerable.
“I want one with my hands, first. Sound good?”
His fingertip penetrates me, and I can practically hear how wet I am already. My hips thrust back against him, and I can feel the hard imprint of his cock against my ass and lower back.
“Watch yourself, Brinley. Eyes on the mirror.”
His hand comes up to cradle the front of my throat—gentle, just enough to keep my chin lifted. Just enough that I feel it. “I want you watching yourself fall apart on my fingers. I want you to see what I see. Don't you dare close your eyes, baby. Don't you fucking dare.”
Beau moves his finger slowly, stroking my clit before pressing inside me, then back again. In the mirror, I see his eyes fixed on his hand under the thin fabric. He doesn’t rush, coaxing out my pleasure like honey dripping from a spoon.
“More,” I whisper, already greedy. I know he can make me come faster if he wants. He knows exactly how to touch me to get me to the edge in minutes.
“Shhhh. Let me take my time.” I whine a little, in pleasure and in frustration, and he smiles. “I have all night, Brin. No running out or disappearing after. I can take all the time with you that I want.”
I try to appreciate how amazing that is—that finally, Beau and I have nothing to rush, nothing to hide. Unfortunately, I’m so desperate to come that it’s all I can focus on.
Moans and whimpers fall from my mouth as he patiently, perfectly tortures me.
His eyes grow heavy with lust, his pupils blowing wide as he watches me.
My panties are visibly damp now. The heat he stokes in my lower belly gets higher and higher, until every inch of my skin feels flushed and feverish.