Epilogue Four Days Later
AXEL
Ifloat on my back, letting the warm turquoise water support me as I stare up at the cloudless Maldivian sky. Three days into paradise, and I still can’t believe we’re here. But the real view isn’t above me—it’s on the wooden pier extending from our overwater bungalow.
Della lies stretched out on a plush towel, her brown hair cascading around her shoulders, those long legs gleaming with coconut oil in the afternoon sun. Her white string bikini leaves little to the imagination, though my imagination has been working overtime since we arrived.
I swim closer, water lapping against my chest as I approach the pier. “Enjoying the view up there?” I call to her.
She peers down at me over her sunglasses, a slow smile spreading across her face. “I could ask you the same thing."
“Can’t complain,” I say, treading water. “Though it’s getting hot out here.”
"Poor baby,” she teases, sitting up on her elbows. The movement causes her breasts to strain against the thin fabric of her top. “Need some shade?”
Before I can answer, her fingers move to the tie at her neck. With deliberate slowness, she undoes the knot, then the one at her back. The white triangles of fabric fall away, exposing her perfect breasts to the sun—and to my hungry gaze.
“Della,” I warn, my voice dropping an octave.
Her laugh is musical as she dangles the bikini top from one finger. “Something wrong, Mr. Warner?”
In one swift motion, she tosses the top at me. It lands on the water beside me, floating like a white flag of surrender—though neither of us is surrendering anything.
“That’s it,” I growl, swimming to the ladder. I haul myself out of the water, not bothering to hide my erection straining against my swim shorts. Water cascades down my chest as I stalk toward her, droplets marking my path across the warm wooden planks.
Della’s eyes widen with delighted anticipation. She makes a show of trying to scramble away, but I’m on her in seconds, scooping her up in my arms. Her naked breasts press against my wet chest as she squeals with laughter.
“You think that’s funny?” I ask, carrying her toward the bungalow. “Teasing me like that?”
"I thought that was the point of this getaway,” she says innocently, though her fingers are already tracing the muscles of my neck.
“Teasing comes with consequences, Miss York.”
Inside, the ceiling fan stirs the air above the massive bed where I toss her. She bounces once, her breasts jiggling, hair fanning out around her like spilled ink on the white sheets. The sight nearly brings me to my knees.
“What kind of consequences?” she asks, watching as I remove my wet shorts.
I crawl onto the bed, hovering over her. “The kind where I make you beg.”
Her pupils dilate, blue eyes nearly black with desire. “I don’t beg.”
“We’ll see about that.” I kiss her hard, drinking in her little gasps as my hands roam her body. I follow the elegant curve of her waist, the flare of her hips, until I reach the ties of her bikini bottoms. With a quick tug, they loosen, and I slide them down her legs.
“Spread your legs for me,” I command, my voice rough with need.
She complies immediately, thighs falling open. The sight of her, wet and ready, makes my mouth water. I settle between her legs, pressing kisses along her inner thighs, enjoying her impatient squirms.
“Axel, please,” she whispers.
“Already begging,” I tease, before running my tongue through her folds. The taste of her—salt and sweetness—makes me groan. I devour her like a starving man, circling her clit with my tongue while sliding two fingers inside her tight heat.
Della’s back arches off the bed. “Oh god, yes!”
I work her with my mouth and hand, relentless, curling my fingers to find that spot that makes her see stars. Her thighs begin to tremble, her breathing ragged. Just as she’s about to topple over the edge, I feel her walls tightening around my fingers.
In one fluid motion, I rise up and thrust into her, burying myself to the hilt.
Her back arches violently as she shatters around me, her slick inner walls pulsating and gripping me like a velvet vice. “Fuck!” she cries out, her pupils blown wide, mouth falling open in ecstasy.
“That’s it,” I growl, driving into her mercilessly. “This is what happens to dirty girls who tease me.” The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin fills the bungalow as sweat glistens across her flushed chest.
Her nails carve crescents into my shoulders, her thighs trembling as they lock around my waist. “Don’t stop,” she begs, her voice breaking. “Please, Axel, don’t ever stop."
“Never,” I promise, angling deeper until I hit that spot that makes her eyes roll back. “You take me so perfectly, baby. Like this pussy was custom-made for my cock.” I watch, mesmerized, as my length disappears inside her glistening heat with each brutal thrust.
Her eyes lock with mine, dark with primal hunger. “Born for it,” she gasps, her breasts bouncing with each impact. “Born to take every inch of you.”
Those filthy words ignite something primal within me.
I flip her onto her stomach in one savage motion, yanking her hips up until that perfect heart-shaped ass is presented to me like an offering.
I plunge back into her honeyed depths from behind, her slick heat gripping every throbbing inch of me.
She comes again instantly, her scream muffled by the pillow, her pussy convulsing around me with such force I nearly black out from pleasure.
The sight of her face pressed into the sheets, spine a perfect curve, my cock disappearing into her glistening pink folds—pushes me beyond control.
I explode inside her with a guttural roar, my release so intense my vision blurs at the edges as I fill her to overflowing, marking her as mine from the inside out.
We lie tangled together afterward, her head on my chest, my fingers tracing the damp curve of her spine. The late-afternoon sun streams through the open windows, painting golden stripes across our sweat-slicked bodies and highlighting the rosy marks my fingers left on her hips.
“I think I need another swim to cool off,” she murmurs against my skin.
I press a kiss to her forehead. “Later. Right now, I’m not letting you out of this bed.”
Hours later, we sit on the deck of our bungalow, watching the sun sink toward the horizon. The sky is painted in impossible shades of orange reflecting off the blue water. Della wears nothing but my shirt and her anklet, the golden chain catching the fading light as she sips champagne from a flute.
“This has been the most perfect trip,” she says, leaning against me.
I reach into my pocket, fingers closing around the small charm I’ve been carrying for days. “It’s not over yet.”
Kneeling beside her chair, I lift her foot into my lap. Her curious eyes follow my movements as I attach the tiny gold charm to her anklet.
“What’s that?” she asks, leaning forward to see.
“A ring charm,” I tell her, my heart hammering in my chest. “It goes with this.”
I pull the red velvet box from my pocket and open it to reveal the diamond ring I chose weeks ago—an oval stone set in platinum, surrounded by smaller diamonds that catch the sunset’s fire.
Her hand flies to her mouth, eyes widening.
“Della York,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel, “I’ve known since our first date that you were the woman I wanted to spend my life with. These past months have only confirmed what my heart already knew.” I take a deep breath. “Will you marry me?”
Tears spill down her cheeks as she nods, unable to speak for a moment. Finally, she manages, “Yes. God, yes.”
I slide the ring onto her finger, where it catches the final rays of the setting sun. She launches herself into my arms, nearly knocking us both over.
“I love you so much,” she whispers against my lips.
“Let’s celebrate,” I say, standing and pulling her to her feet. Without warning, I scoop her up and run to the edge of the deck.
“Axel, no!” she shrieks with laughter.
“Axel, yes,” I counter, and leap into the warm water below.
We surface together, her arms around my neck, her legs around my waist. The sky darkens above us, the first stars appearing as I hold her close in the gentle waves.
“This is just the beginning, Della York,” I tell her, brushing wet hair from her face. “We have decades ahead to write the perfect love story.”
She kisses me, salt water mingling with the taste of champagne on her lips. “I can’t wait to read every chapter.”
Later, as she sleeps beside me, her ring catching moonlight through the window, I watch the gentle rise and fall of her chest. Four and a half months ago, I walked into Roman’s with no idea my entire life was about to change. Now, I can’t imagine a future without her in it.
I press a kiss to her bare shoulder, and she shifts closer in her sleep, seeking me even in her dreams. Tomorrow we’ll call our families and share our news. But tonight, this perfect night, is just for us—the first of countless nights we’ll spend together, writing our story one day at a time.
.