Epilogue
Austin
Two years later
Some things never change, like Stu Mancini's party. I'd still rather chew glass than be here…and being here is still mandatory.
Fuck. My. Life.
"Suck it up, buttercup," Serena says, patting me on the chest with a smirk that says she doesn't even feel the least bit sorry for me as we sail through the doors. "It won't be that bad."
"Liar," I mutter, wrapping an arm around her waist to pull her close. "It'll be worse than bad."
"You only say that because you're a Neanderthal, Austin." She rolls her eyes at me. "If you weren't, we wouldn't end up on the internet every year."
"If these assholes wouldn't flirt with you, I wouldn't be a Neanderthal." That's a lie. I know it's a lie. She knows it's a lie. The goddamn universe knows it a lie.
"It won't actually kill you if one of your teammates smiles at me, you know."
"It might."
She shakes her head, her lips twitching.
I'm not really kidding, though. Ever since she got pregnant with my kid, I feel this unholy possessiveness that refuses to relent.
Someone looks at her, and I want to poke their eyes out.
They smile at her, and I want to wear their teeth around my neck like a fucking medieval invader.
God help anyone who touches her. I am not responsible for my actions. That's my wife. My baby. It's all mine.
I tried to Google to find out in which trimester this feeling goes away. Google was no fucking helping. Apparently, "being an asshole to everyone in my wife's vicinity" isn't a pregnant symptom. I call bullshit. She's pregnant, and this is a symptom.
"Are you going to behave tonight?" she asks, eyeing me warily.
"Nope." I grin at her, which is little more than a feral show of teeth.
She narrows her eyes like she's trying to burn her command into my brain, but I just ignore it. I don't have to play nice, not until our daughter gets here in three months. Then, I might consider it. Maybe.
"Come with me," she says, linking her fingers with mine.
I don't even get a chance to ask where we're going before she's hauling me up the stairs. My dick immediately turns to steel. He knows where we're going.
Lucas catches my gaze from below, smirking and shaking his head. Like he can talk. We may end up in the hallway every year, but I can never unsee what I walked in on when he and his now-wife first got together.
Serena drags me down the same hallway where we met. A rush of memories hits me all at once, like a highlight reel of the best two years of my life. It all started right here, with her damn near tackling me.
Nothing has been the same since. It's been better, as close to fucking perfect as it can be. I've always believed in love and happily ever after, but I didn't believe in fairytales until her. Now, though? Yeah, I fucking believe. I live that shit every day.
She shoves me up against the wall at the end of the hall.
"What are you doing?"
"Convincing you to behave."
"We're going to get caught again." We always get caught. It's like an unwritten rule of the fucking universe at this point. If she touches my dick at this party, there will be photos.
Will that stop me? Absolutely not. But when it inevitably happens, she won't be able to say I didn't warn her.
"No, we aren't," she mutters, sinking to her knees in front of me. "Not if you're quiet."
"I'll take that under consideration," I growl, sinking a hand into her hair as she reaches for the fly of my pants.
"Jesus, Austin. Already?"
"You expect him to behave when you're on your knees for me, princess?"
She knows exactly what she's doing, the little brat. She drags her palm over my cock through the fabric, her eyes never leaving mine. I nearly choke on my own tongue trying not to react, but the fucker twitches so hard it's a miracle I don't come right then.
"God, you love this, don't you?" she whispers, tugging my zipper down and shoving her hand inside. "You're so easy, Austin. I could probably make you come in two seconds."
"Go for it," I growl, definitely not stupid enough to object to that plan.
She laughs, squeezing my cock until I grit my teeth. "You gonna be good tonight?" she asks, stroking me slow.
"No fucking chance," I snarl.
"Not even if I say please?" She licks the head of my cock, slow enough to turn my veins molten.
I bite my tongue so hard I taste blood.
"You're a menace," I hiss, barely getting out the word before she wraps her lips around the tip and sucks me so deep my eyes roll back. "Fucking hell, Serena."
"That's it," she whispers, twisting her wrist as she bobs her head, her tongue doing things that should be illegal, or at least come with a championship ring. "I love how you lose your mind for me."
"I fucking love you, you little brat. Now suck my cock."
She grins around me.
I close my eyes, every thought in my mind focused on her. Right up until I hear a sound behind us.
I freeze, afraid to look.
This is déjà vu. We've been here before. We've done this before. Twice, actually.
I look up.
"Fuck," I breathe.
Serena freezes, my dick falling from her lips. Her gaze locks with mine.
Two things can be true at once. Your wife can love you beyond reason and still want to murder you. I know this because mine is glaring at me like she'd set me on fire if she weren't currently pregnant with my kid, caught dick-handed with my cock in her mouth.
In my defense…I tried to warn her that this would happen. She didn't listen.
"There's a reporter behind me right now, isn't there?" she asks.
"Yep."
"He has a camera, doesn't he?"
"Afraid so."
"I swear to God, Austin," she whispers, her face draining of color. "If you tell me that my ass is out, I'm murdering you."
I shove my dick back into my pants, willing the hard bastard to go down. No dice.
"Fix it," Serena hisses at me. "Fix it right now!"
"Hey!" I shout at the reporter, already stumbling down the hall toward him.
He isn't waiting around to be caught, though. He leaps backward like a fucking ninja, still snapping photos.
Serena is actually going to murder me. My daughter's birth announcement and my death announcement will be printed in the same paper.
Jesus Christ.
I round the corner just in time to see Dace and Lucas at the top of the stairs, flanking the reporter. All three are doubled over, howling so loud the sound rattles the banister. Dace's face is red, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.
"You should see your face right now," he wheezes, holding his ribs. "Holy shit, I've never seen anyone look that scared."
I stare at the reporter, already bracing for the fact that my cock is about to break the internet. Again.
The guy shrugs, then flips his camera around so I can see the screen. There's nothing. No video, no photos. Just a blank display.
"What the fuck?"
"Relax, Hawkes. There are no photos. Your wife is pregnant. She would fucking kill us all."
"What the fuck?" I repeat again. What else am I supposed to say? It seems fucking relevant. Sue me.
Lucas shakes his head, wiping at his eyes. "Every year. Every fucking year, you end up in that hallway, man. You gotta learn to keep it in your pants."
"Yeah, that's not happening. Have you seen my wife?" I scrub a hand down my face, trying to get my heart rate under control. "Just so we're clear…there are no photos?"
"Not this year," Dace says, chuckling.
I sag against the wall. Maybe I will survive this pregnancy, after all.
"Austin!" Serena growls from down the hall. "I swear to God, I'm never having sex with you again!"
Well, shit. Maybe not.
I flip Dace and Lucas off before hurrying back down the hallway toward her. She's leaning against the wall, her face bright red.
"Is my ass going to be on the internet again?"
"No."
"Did you punch a reporter?"
"Also no." I usher her into an empty guestroom, slamming the door behind us. See? A motherfucker can be taught.
"Then how—?"
I cut her off with my lips on hers. "I love you."
She melts against me with the sweetest sigh. "I love you too."
"There are no photos, just Dace and Lucas being assholes."
"What? Seriously?"
"Yeah, seriously."
"Oh, thank God," she breathes, burrowing into me. And then she giggles, her hand sliding down my abdomen. "So…wanna fool around?"
"Fuck yeah," I breathe, pressing her up against the wall. "Every day. Forever."