Epilogue
WADE
“Not yet. Not yet. Okay…now.”
My eyes popped open, and I took in my surroundings. It wasn’t at all what I’d expected, but I immediately recognized the silhouette displayed in shadow form on the wall of the bonus room my wife used as her workshop and office.
“That’s…us,” I said, my mouth spreading into a goofy smile. That happened a lot these days, even after eight years of marriage and two years of living together before that. “On our wedding day.”
“We were just kids,” Brielle said.
“Me, maybe, but you were all woman, even back then.”
I winced at my own cheesiness. I couldn’t help it. She brought that out in me.
“Things feel weird without the kids here,” she said, turning to face me. “I’m not used to it.”
“My parents spoil them rotten,” I said, pulling her into my arms. It still amazed me how perfectly she fit against me, like she was made for this exact spot. “Maeve probably has my mom wrapped around her little finger by now, and Ezra’s no doubt convinced Dad to let him drive the tractor.”
“Our six-year-old is not driving a tractor.” Brielle laughed, but I could see the fondness in her eyes when she talked about my parents. They’d taken to her immediately, and when the kids came along, they’d become the doting grandparents she’d never had growing up.
“Don’t worry. Dad will put Ezra on his lap, same as he did with me.”
“I still can’t believe how lucky I got with your family. Your mom treats me as good as my own mom did.”
“She loves you. We all do.” I brushed a strand of red hair behind her ear. Even after all these years, touching her sent sparks through me. “Besides, you’re the one who gave her grandchildren. She’s been waiting for grandkids since I turned thirty.”
Brielle laughed, the sound filling her workshop. The space had evolved over the years—a corner of our garage had expanded into this dedicated room where she created her lanterns. Orders came in steadily now from all over the country, and the honky-tonk even featured her custom lighting designs.
“It’s strange having the house to ourselves,” she said, stepping closer. “When’s the last time we had a whole weekend alone?”
“Too long.” I slid my hands around her waist, pulling her against me. “Usually our date nights involve escaping to dinner before racing back for bedtime stories.”
“Not tonight.” Her voice had gone soft, that particular tone that made my pulse kick up a notch. “Tonight, we have nowhere to be. No little voices calling for water or worried about monsters under the bed.”
“Dangerous,” I murmured, backing her up against her workbench. The lanterns around us cast dancing shadows on the walls, creating our own private world of light and warmth.
“Very,” she agreed, her hands sliding up my chest to loop around my neck. “What are we going to do with all this free time?”
Instead of answering, I kissed her. Slow and deep, the way I’d wanted to kiss her this morning when Ezra had interrupted us, and yesterday when Maeve needed help finding her favorite stuffed animal. The kiss of a man who’d waited all week to have his wife to himself.
When we broke apart, both breathing hard, her eyes were dark with promise.
“I have some ideas,” I said against her lips.
And then I was kissing her again, harder this time.
Not careful, not restrained. Ten years of history crashing into the same hunger we’d carried since the day we met—raw and unstoppable.
My hands slid from her waist to her ass, hauling her hard against me, and I swallowed her gasp of surprise, turning it into a moan.
Our fingers fumbled with buttons and zippers, a frantic, shared mission.
The soft whump of my jeans hitting the floor was followed by the whisper of her sundress sliding down her body.
The air in the workshop, usually scented with solder and citrus cleaner, was now rich with the smell of us—her vanilla perfume and my musk, the sweet, primal scent of arousal.
I lifted her, her legs wrapping around my waist, and set her on the smooth, cool wood of her worktable. A few stray art supplies scattered, a sharp reminder of where we were. Her sanctuary. Her domain. And I was about to worship her in it.
I knelt between her legs, my hands sliding up her inner thighs, pushing them wider. She was bare to me, beautiful and glistening in the low, dancing light. I didn’t tease. I didn’t hesitate. I leaned in and licked a slow, firm line up her center.
“Wade,” she breathed, her head falling back.
Her taste exploded on my tongue—earthy and sweet, uniquely her. I settled in, feasting on her, my hands holding her hips down as she bucked against my mouth.
My world narrowed to the sound of her ragged breaths and my own greedy sounds, the feel of her clit, a hard pearl under my tongue. The way her fingers tangled in my hair, not guiding, just holding on.
“Yes, right there, oh God, right there,” she chanted.
I looked up to see her, her back arched, her own fingers pinching her nipple. The sight nearly undid me.
Doubling my efforts, I circled my tongue, sucking gently until her chanting broke into a high, broken cry. Her thighs clamped around my head like a vise as she shuddered through her release, her inner muscles fluttering against my tongue.
I gentled my mouth, kissing her through the last tremors until she relaxed, her hands falling away as she looked down at me with a naughty smile.
Before I could even catch my breath, she was pushing at my shoulders, her eyes blazing with a new fire. “My turn. Up. Now.”
That was one command I was helpless to refuse.
I stood, and she slid off the table, smiling as she dropped to her knees before me. Her hand wrapped around my cock, so hard it was almost painful.
She didn’t make me wait. Her mouth—hot, wet, and practiced—closed over me.
My head snapped back, a guttural groan tearing from my throat. “Brielle…fuck.”
She swirled her tongue around the head, tasting the salt of me, before taking me deep, until I felt the back of her throat.
Her hands cupped my balls, and the dual sensation was blinding.
Pleasure, white-hot and electric, shot up my spine.
The sounds were obscene—wet, sucking pulls, my own ragged breathing, her soft, satisfied hums that vibrated through me…
I was losing myself in the sensation, in the building pressure coiling tight in my gut. My fingers twisted in her hair, not pushing, just anchoring myself as her movements threatened to buckle my knees.
“Baby, stop… I’m going to…” I managed to choke out, my hips giving an involuntary jerk. “I want to be inside you when I come.”
She released me with a soft, wet pop, her lips swollen and gleaming. She looked up at me, her eyes dark with triumph and love.
“Then what are you waiting for?” she asked.
I helped her to her feet, taking a moment to admire her curves in the glow of all the lamplights in the room.
Then I turned her, bending her gently over the table, her perfect ass pressed against my aching hardness.
I kissed the freckles on her shoulder blade, my hands roaming her sides, her stomach, before I positioned myself at her entrance.
“Look,” I rasped in her ear, nodding toward the wall where our shadows, giant and intertwined, were cast by the lanterns. “I’m going to watch as I fuck my wife.”
I slid inside her in one smooth, devastating thrust, and a shared, punched-out groan filled the room.
She was so wet, so impossibly tight, still clenching from her first climax.
The feeling was absolute perfection. A homecoming.
I buried myself to the hilt, pausing to just feel the connection, the way her body stretched to accommodate me, the way her inner muscles gripped me like a fist.
“You feel…you feel like heaven,” I gritted out, my voice strangled.
“You fill me up,” she moaned, pushing back against me. “God, Wade, fuck me. Please.”
I set a punishing rhythm, my hips slapping against her ass, the sound raw and animalistic in the quiet workshop. Every thrust was a claim, a promise, a prayer. I leaned over her, covering her body with mine, one hand braced on the table, the other sliding around to find her clit again.
“Come for me again,” I demanded, my mouth at her ear. “I want to feel you come around my cock.”
“Yes,” she hissed, her body beginning to tighten. “Right there… don’t stop…Wade.”
She came a second time, a silent scream on her lips as her body convulsed around me, milking me, pulling the orgasm from me with uncontrollable force.
My own release followed, a blinding, soul-shattering wave that had my vision whiting out.
I drove into her one last, deep time, my roar muffled against her shoulder as I spilled myself inside her, my entire body shuddering with the force of it.
We collapsed over the table, a sweaty, trembling heap of spent limbs. Our harsh breaths slowly evened out, syncing as they always did. The scent of sex and satisfaction hung heavy in the air, mingling with the familiar smells of her craft.
I nuzzled her neck, pressing a soft kiss there. “I love you,” I whispered, the words imbued with a depth that ten years together still couldn’t fully contain.
She turned her head, her lips finding mine in a tender, languid kiss. “I love you more.”
Eventually, I softened and slipped from her body. I helped her up, pulling her into my arms, not caring about the mess. We stood there for a long time, wrapped in each other, surrounded by the evidence of her passion—her art—and the evidence of ours.
Brielle rested her head on my chest, right over my heart. “This,” she said softly, her voice full of a wonder that never faded. “This is everything. This messy, loud, beautiful life we’ve built. This home. Our family.”
I held her tighter, my throat thick with emotion.
I knew what she meant. The security wasn’t in the four walls around us, but in the unshakable foundation we’d built together.
It was in the trust that had just been expressed so rawly on her worktable.
It was in the laughter of our children, who were safe and loved by grandparents.
It was in the shadow on the wall, proof that the wild, desperate love of two kids had grown roots, strong and deep enough to hold us forever.
She sighed, a contented, happy sound. “It’s everything I ever wanted.”
“Me too, baby,” I murmured into her hair, my heart so full I thought it might burst. “Me too.”
A mishap with her snow globes brings gorgeous Buck into Sheraton’s life in Mountain Man’s Winter Wonder, Book 5 in the Wildwood Valley Christmas series.