Epilogue
Six months later
My mind and body are exhausted. And my shoulder throbs as I set down Monroe’s carry-on. It’s heavier than it looks since she insisted that we buy a souvenir from every country that we visited. We also had to bring everything back with us, regardless of what airport security had to say. They’re all necessary , she claimed when we were held up at customs. I let out a quiet laugh, rolling my shoulder back and massaging it as I gaze at the penthouse I haven’t set foot in for at least a year.
Something else to come out of our time away is that Monroe has become a better flyer. To an extent. She still gets sick, but only during takeoff. But then it’s smooth sailing. Her face still brightened every time we landed. You would think she would be bored with travelling after twenty countries in six months, but no, she was just as excited every time.
Speak of the devil.
Monroe bounds from around the corner with her long legs on display. Her short hair, which she cut recently, is up in a messy bun as she rushes to my side.
“Did you get it?” she asks, her features wildly animated.
I motion to the bulging bag with my foot. “You’re lucky I have some pull. Your bag of tricks almost didn’t make it off the plane.”
She pokes my chest playfully. “I don’t know why security had such an issue with the set of decorative knives I got for Kevin.”
With a look, I tilt my head. “Your sentence right there should be answer enough.”
She giggles and shrugs. “Then I’m grateful that my boyfriend is rich and all-powerful.”
“I don’t know if I’m as powerful as the security at JFK is prone to bribery when the occasion arises.”
“Don’t tell me that. I want to believe that our airports are actually safe.”
“Says the little shit with the knives,” I needle.
I bend forward, and a groan slips past my lips as I lift the nearly fifty-pound bag.
“Where do you want this?”
“I got it,” she says.
Hesitantly, I hand it over to her. Either Monroe is hiding just how strong she is, or I really need to get back to the gym. She grabs the bag from me with ease and throws it over her shoulder like it weighs nothing. She ambles toward my starkly decorated living room.
“Well, this little shit won’t show you what she got if you keep that attitude up.”
“I wouldn’t want to miss out on the haul.”
Monroe drops the bag down with a loud thud on top of my expensive coffee table, and I cringe at the sound. She unzips it and fishes around for something, grunting as she weeds through all her toys.
“It has to be here…” she mumbles to herself. A piece of hair falls in front of her face as she leans further over the bag.
My hand twitches by my side with the need to touch her. Even when I just spent an entire fourteen-hour flight with her, I can’t get enough. Six months into our relationship, and I want to be around her more, constantly. My fingertips clutch the strand and tuck it gently behind her ear as she continues her search.
Her eyes meet mine. “Thanks.” She quickly pulls something out of the bag, and she moves away from me. All I could see was a flash of neon before she hid it behind her back. “Ah-ha,” she says triumphantly.
“What do you have there?” I ask, trying to sneak a peek behind her back. She moves skillfully, dodging and weaving, not letting me catch a glimpse of it.
Avoiding my eyes, she says shyly, “It’s a present for you. I picked it up at the airport when we were leaving Korea.”
She should know by now that she doesn’t need to get me anything, least of all a present. She’s gift enough for me.
“You didn’t have to get me anything,” I mumble, my smile faltering.
Monroe steps into me, and her other hand comes to wrap around the back of my neck. Her fingers thread through the short hair at the base.
“I wanted to,” she states definitively. “Do you want it now or later?”
“What do you think?”
“Okay, okay. Close your eyes.”
“Do we really have to do this?” I grumble, but in reality, I love this whole commotion.
“Yes, we do, grumpy.”
“Fine.” I close my eyes. “Happy?”
“Ecstatic.” I know she rolled her eyes, and I laugh. Before I can tease her any more, she says, “Open them.”
My brows crease as I take in the plush toy that she holds. The neon yellow is screaming to be noticed. The animal is a hybrid of a cat and a dog, and my eyes flit to the stitched wording on its belly. I love you.
I’m barely breathing as Monroe passes it to me. “Like it?”
My eyes meet her bright ones, and I think I see a touch of nervousness in them. As if I wouldn’t like anything she got me.
“I love it,” I say. “And I love you.”
Monroe’s face lights up, and she leans into me. Her arms wrap around my middle as she inhales deeply, rising on her tiptoes to kiss my neck, my jaw, and the side of my mouth.
“I’m glad you like it. I wasn’t sure if you would.” Her voice is low.
My hands grip her waist, and I search her eyes. “Why wouldn’t I love it? You gave it to me.”
“Good, because he’s sleeping with us tonight.” Monroe wiggles out of my hold and grabs the toy from me. She sprints toward my bedroom.
“Is that the only reason you got it?” I ask, following her.
She flops down onto my king-size bed, spread eagle, as she holds the plushie close.
“Maybe,” she says coyly.
I arch a brow, slowly creeping closer to the bed and eliciting a cackle from her. “Is that so?”
“Yeah, I need a cuddle buddy because someone doesn’t like to cuddle with me.”
With a firm grasp on her ankles, I pull her to the edge of the bed. She squeals loudly.
“I never said I didn’t like to cuddle. It’s just difficult when you move around all night, grinding that tight ass against me every minute, making me harder than all hell.”
Her jaw pops open, and a sly smirk crests my lips. She sits up on her elbows and glares at me. “I don’t have a problem with that.”
“Really? Then I’ll just have to show you how much of a problem it is for me right now.” I whisper, moving so that I’m hovering above her. My lips brush hers.
Impatient as ever, she grabs my face and crashes her lips onto mine. Her sweet scent draws me in, and my mind is on the fritz from her touch alone. She’s soft and malleable in my arms, and her chest grazes mine. A current of pleasure runs under my skin, torching every nerve. I deepen the kiss and plunge my tongue into her mouth, pulling a moan from her.
“Alden…” she groans, her lips grazing my week-old stubble. She hums at the sensation against her smooth skin. “I need to shower this plane smell off me.”
“I couldn’t have thought of a better idea. I’ll join you.”
Monroe chuckles as she wraps her arms around my neck while I lift her from the bed and carry her to the bathroom. She throws her head back in a fit of laughter, and I swear I could listen to it for the rest of my life. I pepper open-mouthed kisses along the expanse of her neck as her legs wrap securely around my waist.
Unlatching her from me, I shift her body to one side and reach to turn the shower on. Monroe grips my sore shoulder, and it makes me wince. She pulls away quickly.
“What’s wrong?”
I shake my head. “Nothing, I think I pulled it.”
She pats my chest, and I set her down on the tiled floor. From behind me, she grabs the hem of my sweater.
“Let me see,” she whispers.
Wordlessly, I lift my arms and let her strip the sweater from my body. When I move it too much, I wince. Monroe’s smaller hand rubs my shoulder, massaging the tense muscle. My head falls forward at her delicate but firm touch.
“Is this okay?” She asks, relieving the pressure as she waits for my response.
“Yeah, yeah, it’s perfect.”
She continues to knead the flesh as the shower runs in the background. After a while, Monroe stops and stands in front of me again.
She reaches for the waistband of my sweatpants and hums. “You know I can’t resist you when you wear these.”
“I know.” I groan and help her shimmy them down my legs, stepping out of them and kicking them to the side.
Her hands rest on my hips, fingers drifting across the band of my boxers. My dick twitches inside them, needy for her to touch me, but I ignore it, letting her set the pace. I kiss Monroe’s cheek lightly as my fingers brush over the base of her neck. When I lift her shirt over her head, I see that she’s wearing my favourite bra of hers. The colour compliments her huge, green eyes.
Her bra falls to the ground when she reaches behind her and unclasps it. Next come her pants, my boxers, her underwear. I follow her into the shower. The hot steam clouds around us, and my breathing turns ragged as I take in her naked body. Monroe hums an unrecognizable tune as she stands underneath the near-boiling water. I can’t fathom how she can be comfortable when her skin is melting from the hot water.
Wrapping my arms around her, I inch closer. And dip my head so that it rests in the crook of her shoulder. Her hand stretches behind her, tangling in my wet hair, and holds me close. My front is flush with her back, and I hug her tightly.
“I love you.”
I kiss the side of her neck. “I love you more.”
I’m overwhelmed with her, with us. And it’s been a long time since I needed to use the shower to help me out of a panic attack. I get lost in the feeling of her running a loofah up and down my chest.
“So, have you thought about it?” she asks me, drawing me from my daze.
Snatching the loofah from her, I chuckle and run it between the valley of her breasts, kissing each one.
“I told you I don’t need to think about it. You have my answer.”
Monroe gives me a stern look. “Alden.”
“Monroe,” I hum and dip my head down to suck her nipple into my mouth. I tug the soft peak with my teeth. She gasps sharply. “Let me work,” I mumble.
With a rough tug, her fingers sift through my hair. She moans, and the sound reverberates in the confines of the glass shower.
“You gave it all of three seconds of thought. You need more time.”
I lift my head away from her nipple, groaning.
“I don’t need more time because I’m certain. I want you to move in with me.” My hand runs over her hair. “Do you need more time? I’ll wait if you do.”
She shakes her head. “No, no, I don’t need more time.”
I smirk. “Then the matter is settled.” Her body is lithe as I drag her back to me, my hard cock resting against her stomach. “You’ll move in immediately.”
Monroe finally laughs. “Everything I own is back in Florida, Alden. I need to go and get it.”
Kissing up her throat, I suck each time my lips make contact with her skin. “You don’t need to do a thing. I can hire people to do it for you.”
Monroe’s nails scrape over my back as she sighs.
“I need to do something.”
I whisper in her ear, “You are doing something. You’re making me so fucking happy.”
“I’m happy, too.”
We took turns washing each other, but I couldn’t resist getting down on my knees and giving her a couple of orgasms. Her legs shake as I carry her out of the shower and pull a towel around her. Monroe climbs into my bed and waits for me to get in.
A relaxed sigh leaves me when she settles against me, her head resting right on top of my heart.
“How’s your shoulder?”
“It’s not bad,” I answer, feeling the dull pain kick up again.
“Is that massage oil I gave you around here somewhere?”
My eyes close, but I nod. “Top drawer.”
She shuffles around in the drawer, and I suddenly remember what’s in there. My eyes fly open in a panic. When she draws back, oil in hand, I relax. She didn’t see it.
“Lie down for me,” Monroe instructs, and I do as I’m told.
She places her warm hands on my shoulder, and I melt into the mattress. A groan escapes as she works the lavender oil into my skin.
“How are you feeling?” she asks after a while.
“Better.”
I dodged a bullet when she looked into that drawer. There has to be a better hiding spot, somewhere she won’t find it. Or I won’t accidentally lead her right to it. It’s too soon. For six months, I’ve been certain. The velvet ring box has been burning a hole in that drawer since before we left for our half-year excursion. But I know Monroe, and I know she needs more time. I just asked her to move in. I can’t ask her to marry me, too. One day, I will. One day, she’ll be mine forever. I just need to hide the ring until then.
“Come here.”
I pull Monroe’s wrist toward me until she puts the massage oil down on the dresser. With her curled up against my chest, I scoot toward the headboard.
She can hear it—my heart. She can hear how full it is, how intact. Because it isn’t broken anymore, and I’ve never felt so whole in my life. And I can only thank one person who saw the shattered organ and stitched it back together carefully, methodically, and with the gentlest care a person can give to another. I owe Monroe everything, and being with her, helping her repair her own heart in return is how I choose to spend the rest of my life.