Epilogue
Just over two years later
Kevin
“You think Lilibet’s okay, really?” I frown at the ceiling. It’s dark outside and Andi’s getting ready for bed but I’m not sure I should undress in case we have to make an emergency trip back to town.
“I think she’ll be fine. July says Joe’s the baby whisperer. Says he can get her nephew to sleep in under five minutes, no matter how fussy he is.”
She’s probably right—there’s probably no need for me to worry. It just feels weird to not have the baby with us…and to carry on this conversation through a closed bathroom door. Whatever she’s doing in there is taking forever.
But damn, it has been a good day. “Salazar, this was the best birthday ever. Thanks.” Andi and Lilibet woke me up with breakfast in bed—French toast and a tiny-hand-mangled blossom on a broken stem. We went to the zoo in Asheville, then had lunch before hitting up Malaprop’s, where Andi insisted I get all three of the books I was trying to choose between. Then home to Galway where I was somehow able to hand over our sweet girl to that skinny, baby-charming devil Joe as a smiling July watched.
“I’m glad.” Andi’s voice has that husky edge that always makes me perk up.
And okay, baby worries aside, I have really been looking forward to a whole uninterrupted night with my woman. Maybe we’ll fool around and then she’ll grant me one last birthday wish and spend the rest of the evening naked so I can look my fill.
I’d want her to wear a little apron while we cook dinner, of course. For safety.
A very little apron. Preferably frilly.
If she ever comes out of the bathroom. What in the world is she—
The bathroom door swings open and the opening drumbeat of “Dangerous Mood” fills the room. In a split second I’m sitting up, wide-eyed, staring at Andi as she was the first time I ever saw her. She’s draped against the bathroom doorframe in all her glorious, sexy Andrea glamour.
Her voice keeps pace with my heartbeat as she starts a slow strut over to me, red fringe shimmering and shaking, her beautiful red lips mesmerizing me as she forms each syllable. She reaches the bed and strokes a hand along my jaw as she circles around me. Presses her breasts to me as she slides her fingers down into my shirt, all the way down to my abs and back up to my chest, before she moves back in front of me and steps closer, nearly straddling my knees, her hips swaying and bumping to the beat, her eyes blazing into me as she sings about rubbing my shoulders, and champagne on ice, and how we might just have to mess around twice if once isn’t enough.
I am dazed and speechless and mindless with lust, and even in my current state, I know once will never be enough with this woman.
My hands are on her before the song ends. I grip her hip and one thick, juicy thigh, twisting to tip her onto the bed beside me. Throw a leg over her to pin her there. “Andrea…” I growl into her ear as she breaks into laughter and makes a half-hearted pretense of struggling, which only serves to draw my attention to her God’s-personal-and-exceedingly-generous-gift-to-us-both breasts. It takes me a minute to remember what I was saying, then I try again. “Please say this dress is a cheap replica of the one from the night we met. Because I’m about to tear it off of you with my teeth.”
Somewhere way back in the back of my mind, Vanilla Kev watches closely, only belatedly remembering to throw up his hands in pretend horror.
“No, no!” Andi’s squealing and laughing, trying to hold me at arm’s length even as she unbuttons my shirt and jeans. “It’s the real one! Don’t hurt it!”
I tug her up and onto my lap so I can reach behind her to unzip the magic dress. It rides up her spread thighs and, holy moly, she’s not wearing anything under it. I am this close to rolling over on top of her when she stands and tugs at my jeans. I raise up so she can pull them off of me, but I never break eye contact with her. Of all the many things I love about her, her hungry-for-Kevin expression is one of my favorites.
“Mahoney, I am about to get lipstick all over you.”
I sweep a hand through her glorious, silky hair. It’s almost impossible to keep my eyes open when she puts her mouth on me. I don’t want to miss a thing but I can’t help it. I tilt my head back on a groan. Suddenly I’m remembering an old song I used to sometimes hear my dad sing quietly in my mom’s ear when he’d come up behind her—I think it was Sting and the Police. Something about everything she does being magic.
This, with Andi seeking only to please me, and doing a damn perfect job of it? Magic.
Mornings, when she dances with Lilibet and me in the kitchen, and evenings, when she makes gargoyle faces at us across the dinner table? Magic.
At the shelter, when I catch a glimpse, from where I’m sitting with kids at the picnic tables, of her working at her desk to keep the place afloat? Magic.
Middle of the night, much of last year, when I’d stumble blearily into Lilibet’s room to find Andi holding her, nursing her, crooning to her and smiling softly at me from the rocker? Magic.
And days when we go out to eat and she asks if I want fried pickles, just because she knows I hate fried pickles but love griping at her about them? Magic.
And oh my lord, if I don’t stop what she’s doing right now , our fun’s going to be over too soon.
I touch her face. Pull her up to me for a long, slow kiss. Scoot us back against the headboard. Help her straddle me and slide the straps of her dress off her pretty shoulders so I can touch her bare breasts. Play and lick and suck at them till she’s shivering under my lips.
She rises up, one hand wrapping around my ready cock to guide it into her, and I can’t look away. She moves like a wave, like a tide, like the pull of the moon, and under her I push up, up, into her, deep and tight. She twines her fingers with mine against the headboard and uses the leverage to take me deeper, her breasts swaying, her eyes holding mine.
We’re in sync everywhere, our movements, our rhythm, our intakes of air and our shivering exhalations. The hums that grind in our throats and emerge as moans. The sounds of slick welcome and our bodies joining and increasing desperation. I worship every part of her I can reach, pulling her dark nipples into my mouth one at a time and treasuring them there, treasuring the little sounds she makes—not quite whimpers, not quite words—as I move faster, pushing up deeper, harder. She grips me tight and bucks and bucks and sings her orgasm, a high, giddy, relieved sigh from her beautiful throat. I open my mouth there to feel the sound vibrate through her.
And I feel again what I feel every time with her—disbelief and joy that I am with Andi Salazar. Here in this embrace, here in this afterglow, here in this blessed life with Andi Salazar.
I roll us to our sides and kiss her and kiss her until she’s laughing again. “You are the sweetest, cuddliest man!” Her eyes crinkle with her brilliant smile and she scrapes her fingernails lightly through my hair. If I were a dog, I’d be wagging my tail and slapping one back foot on the ground like crazy. I’d be belly up, open and vulnerable and begging for more of anything she wants to give.
She sobers and peers at me. “You always gonna be this sweet, cuddly man?”
I sober too. I don’t know what this is about, but I can tell it’s serious. I run a fingertip down her cheek. “Andi, you’re my happy place. You and Lilibet are my world. Any timeI have a choice, I’m always going to choose to be right here with you, holding you, just like this.”
“I have one more birthday present for you.”
She’s already made it one of the best days of my entire life. “Yeah?”
“Well, it’s more of a question, really.”
I look at her sideways. Her flush of pleasure and emotion gives her a glow, an almost unearthly beauty.
She bites the corner of her lip. Speaks softly. “What would you think about moving in here full-time and letting your apartment go?”
We’ve been together as a family in almost every bit of our free time, either here or at my apartment, but this is our first mention of this possibility. I was pretty sure having separate places, even if just on paper, made her feel safer, so I never asked.
She’s looking at her hand on my chest, pretending this is more casual than it is.
It’s huge. This sign of trust from Andi… All my feelings rise up in me, bubbling and fizzing like ginger ale. Like champagne.
I, Kevin Mahoney, inspire this kind of trust. This love I see in her eyes every time she looks at me.
I was right.
Vanilla is a valid flavor.
I wrap my arms around her and roll us over and over. When we go off the edge of the bed, I make sure I land under her to break her fall. “Yes. Yes yes yes. Andi, yes.”
And then she’s laughing and crying and I’m laughing and crying, but I still hear every word when she hugs me tight and whispers, “I love you, Kev. Thanks for being the man who could help me break the Salazar curse.”