Epilogue
FINLEY
I ’d come a long way since I arrived at this cabin five years ago. It was hard to believe I was even the same person.
I smiled to myself as I checked the sheets hanging on a line in our backyard. We had a dryer, and my husband, Logan, encouraged me to use it. But I still liked the smell of sun-dried sheets. These had been in the sun all day.
“You know, you can rest.”
The male voice drifted across the short distance from the patio where we spent most of our nights after our four-year-old, Kandi, went to bed.
I could definitely do this in the morning.
I had a feeling he’d get up and have it folded and put away if I left it, though.
He worked hard on the logging crew, and I hated to saddle him with even more responsibility.
I walked around the sheets, coming into view and locking eyes with the man who was my soulmate. My everything.
“I’ll leave it,” I said, “but you have to make me a promise.”
He smiled at me over his glass—a glass that I knew was full of whiskey and soda. “What’s that?”
“You won’t get up early and fold this and put it up.”
He chuckled. “You know me all too well. Okay, I promise I won’t get up early and take your sheets down. Now, come join me.”
I couldn’t resist. I never turned down an offer to sit and relax on the patio with Logan. Our private time together was the highlight of every day.
“I needed this,” he said as I settled in next to him, holding the stemless wine glass filled with my favorite chilled white wine.
He’d poured that and brought it out for me. It was those little touches that made him my hero.
“It’s been five years.” I looked over at him. “Did you realize that?”
He smiled. “Of course. But it’s not our wedding anniversary.”
“In two weeks, it will be.”
We got married exactly two weeks after I arrived on his doorstep.
It made perfect sense to both of us. Kandi came almost a year later, and we’d stopped there.
The thought of having more kids made me feel a little panicky.
It took me back to my days in the compound, where the women seemed to constantly be pregnant—and not always by choice.
“You saved me,” I said.
It was easy to forget that sometimes. Our lives were so perfect now, my childhood seemed like another lifetime.
“You saved yourself,” he said. “I just furnished the tacos and the margarita.”
I smiled. “My first taste of alcohol.”
“Sorry about your family.”
We didn’t talk about my family very often, and that was my choice.
The cult had been busted up long ago, but my parents started over in a new location with a couple of the leaders who weren’t put in jail for tax evasion.
The main leader and his brothers had been given short sentences, so chances were, they’d eventually be out.
I’d hoped one of my siblings might decide to break free, but that had never happened.
“My family is your family,” he said, reaching over to put his hand on mine.
He was right about that. His mom moved up here soon after Kandi was born to be closer to her son and her granddaughter. And me, of course. She was the mom I’d never had, and I was grateful for her and all the friends I’d made in Wildwood Valley. I’d never take any of this for granted.
“We should celebrate our anniversary,” I said. The anniversary of the first time we…you know.”
I still couldn’t speak crudely. My upbringing was part of who I was, like it or not. But I had no problem getting naked in front of my husband.
And that was exactly what I did. In fact, I only paused to set my wine glass on the table next to me before whipping off my T-shirt and revealing that I wore nothing but a pair of panties underneath.
He stared for a long moment in silence before setting his own glass aside.
By then, I was already working the fastening of his jeans, ready to get down to business.
I withdrew his cock and wrapped my mouth around it, taking him in as he shifted to shove his jeans and underwear down to his upper thighs.
He groaned as I took him deep, and his hand began moving over my bare back, his fingers sending warmth up and down my spine.
I was the one who moaned when his hand dove beneath the elastic waistband of my pajama shorts, then under the thin cotton of my bikini briefs. Satin and silk weren’t very practical when you spent most of your week raising a four-year-old while also working part-time at the town’s new daycare.
Logan maneuvered me around after running his hand over my butt cheek. Then he slid his fingers over my hip in that way that told me how much he appreciated my curves.
I’d never been more grateful that I married a man who was six foot five with long arms. He nudged my thighs apart and settled his finger on that swollen bud he knew all too well. He moved slowly at first but gradually increased his pace.
Soon, my movements on his shaft were awkward and clumsy. It felt so good, I hummed against his erection.
His breaths were shallow and rough, but his hand never stopped moving. The slow, teasing circles grew more insistent, more knowing, until my legs began to tremble around him.
“Oh my God,” I gasped as my head dropped back.
“That’s it,” he said, voice thick with lust and love. “Let go for me, baby.”
I did. I came against his hand, my entire body pulsing as heat rushed through me. He kept going through it, not letting up until my hips stopped moving.
Just as I lowered my mouth again, wanting to return the favor, he stopped me, gently but firmly. “Not like that. I want you. Now.”
I climbed onto his lap, knees pressing into the cushion on either side of his hips as I guided him inside me. We both groaned at the contact—hot and deep. He filled me completely. His eyes locked onto mine for one breathless moment before drifting lower.
“Jesus,” he whispered, palms sliding up to cup my breasts. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
My hips moved slowly at first, rolling against him in a rhythm we’d created a thousand times, but that somehow still felt brand new. My breasts bounced with every motion, and I didn’t miss the way his gaze darkened. The way he watched every inch of me like he couldn’t believe I was real.
I reached between us, fingers settling on my clit, adding pressure where I needed it most. His hands clamped down on my hips.
“Fuck, baby,” he said. “You do that, I won’t last.”
“I don’t want you to.”
And I didn’t. I wanted us to fall together. To feel that rush at the same time, tangled and breathless and consumed.
My fingers moved faster. His grip tightened. His head dropped back against the cushion as his hips thrust upward to meet mine, our bodies moving in perfect, desperate rhythm.
“I love you,” I said as my climax crested again. “I love you so much.”
He pulled me flush against his chest just as we came—his groan deep and guttural, mine a breathless cry muffled against his skin. We clung to each other as the aftershocks rippled through us.
Neither of us spoke for a moment. There was only the sound of our breathing and the familiar nighttime hush of Wildwood Valley.
Then I shifted slightly and looked up at him. “I think I’m ready.”
He blinked down at me. “Ready?”
“To have another baby.”
His eyes searched mine, slowly softening as the meaning sank in.
“I want her to have a sibling,” I said. “I want us to have more of this. More little feet running through the house. More bedtime stories and sticky kisses. More love.”
He smiled, wide and full of wonder. “Then let’s do it.” He brushed a damp strand of hair from my forehead. “Let’s make a baby. Damn it, I love you. More than life itself.”
And just like that, our future expanded right there on the patio—between the scent of sun-dried sheets and two half-empty glasses—full of promise, joy, and freedom.
Trey has been helping Bobbi matchmake…but he’s fallen for one of the brides. See what happens when she arrives in town in Book 6, The Mountain Man’s Mail Order Temptress.