Bonus Epilogue
ABBY
I stir awake with a moan.
Still halfway caught in a sensual dream, I turn into my husband who’s already nuzzling the sweet spot behind my ear while massaging one of my breasts through my sleep shirt.
“That feels so good,” I moan as Brendon works my nipple into a hardened peak. “Either I was talking in my sleep, or we were both having X-rated dreams.”
“Yeah?” He slides his free hand up my thigh and under the hem of my shirt. “Were you having a sex dream about me?”
He traces the line of my panties, and a shiver of anticipation ripples through.
“Sex was definitely on the table in this dream.”
His hands pause. One cupping my breast and the other at the apex of my thighs. He pulls back and studies my face with an arched eye.
“I better have been the star of that wild dream of yours.”
As much as I’d like him to continue what he was doing, I can’t resist teasing him a little. Just to keep him on his toes.
“I don’t know.” I purse my lips. “It was a little hard to tell, what with the guy wearing a mask, like Westley in The Princess Bride.”
His jaw hardens. “And you couldn’t tell by his body?”
“I couldn’t see it. He was taking me from behind.”
“But you somehow saw his face?”
“Only when I was looking over my shoulder. But I didn’t get a very good look.”
“Why not?”
“I was too busy holding onto the tree while he was really giving it to me.”
The scowl on Brendon’s face is so stern, I almost lose it and burst into laughter.
He swallows hard. “This guy was really giving it to you?”
“Hard.” I bite my bottom lip to contain my humor.
There’s no way I’m breaking now and confessing that I’m messing with him. He was obviously in my dream. And, contrary to what I’ve told him, it was a lot more basic. But still incredibly hot. We were making love on the banks of the stream that runs through our land.
“Don’t worry.” I pat his cheek in mock sympathy. “If it makes you feel better, I’m pretty sure it was you under the mask.”
“How do you figure?”
“Because I’d know your cock anywhere.”
With a growl, Brendon pins me onto the bed. I giggle as he nips at my neck, suck the sensitive skin and taking little bites that will no doubt leave a mark. Not that I care. It’s already turtleneck season in Alaska. And it feels too damn good.
I splay my fingers over his back, massaging his muscles while he continues to tease my body. The passion and desire we have for each other hasn’t dimmed a bit in the years we’ve been together. If anything, it’s only grown stronger.
We’ve also become experts in how to drive each other to fulfillment. Quickly if necessary. And that’s a good thing when you have three kids under the age of six. We don’t always have much time to get off.
Brendon grips my panties and tugs them down my hips. “So you’d know my cock anywhere?”
“Most definitely.” I slide a hand between us. I grip him through his boxer briefs, and he sucks in a breath. “We’re good friends.”
“How good of friends?”
I pull him out of his boxers to show him. He’s lined up at my entrance, ready to plunge when a piercing voice cuts through our lusty haze.
“Mom!”
We both freeze and hold our breaths. We exchange a look, silently encouraging each other not to make so much as a peep. Maybe—just maybe—if we stay completely still and avoid making any noise, our kids will leave us alone for a few more minutes.
“Mom! Dad!!”
We let out dueling groans of disappointment. It was a long shot to hope they’d entertain themselves. But a parent can always hope.
Actually, maybe it’s a good thing they aren’t entertaining themselves. The last time the kids were super quiet, they ended up “redecorating” the curtains in the living room with their markers.
Beyond frustrated, and aroused, I release my grip on him with more than a little regret. “I suppose that’s our cue to get up.”
“I suppose so.” Brendon sighs. “I thought we’d have at least ten minutes.”
I raise my head to glance at the alarm clock on the nightstand. “Most days we would have. I guess the kids are excited for today.”
“It is a pretty big one.”
After all, it isn’t every day that your oldest child has their first day of kindergarten.
He strokes my cheek. “To be continued?”
I brush my lips across his whiskered jaw. “Definitely.”
Within five minutes, Brendon is in the kitchen packing the lunchboxes and setting out cereal while I wrangle our children into pants. Our divide and conquer approach works well. Mostly.
But it’s never without a little drama.
Today, August, our three year-old, is pouting because I won’t let him wear swim trunks. Five-year-old Juliet James—or, J.J. as we call her—is worried her denim jacket won’t pair well with the dress we picked out for her first day of kindergarten.
And Daisy, who is feeling mature and grown-up now that she’s starting high school, keeps shaking her head and sighing “kids” as she brushes her teeth and puts her hair up into a pony-tale.
By the time everyone is dressed and at the table debating what kind of cereal they’re going to eat today, Brendon has a pot of coffee brewed.
“Your poison, my love.”
I beam at him while J.J. and August argue about who should get the free toy in the cereal box.
I’m too busy savoring the first heady sip of caffeine to weigh in.
“I love you so much.”
Brendon arches an eyebrow. “Are you talking to me or your coffee?”
“A lady never tells.”
Smirking, I stride past him and earn a playful swat to my behind as I do.
“No. Hit,” August calls out with a mouth full of Cheerios.
Justin rolls his eyes and I chuckle as I take my seat at the table.
J.J. pushes her untouched bowl of cereal away. “I don’t want to go to school.”
My brows knit together. “You were so excited to start kindergarten yesterday.”
And the day before. And the week before. And the month before. Honestly, she’s been begging to go to kindergarten since she saw a school bus roll by when she was three.
“Well… I changed my mind.”
A seed of dread buds in my belly. Before it can take root, Brendon gives my shoulder a squeeze before kneeling next to our daughters chair. “Why don’t you tell us what’s going on?”
“She’s a scaredy cat,” August announces.
J.J. jaw falls open with indignation. “I am not.”
“Are too. Daisy say school is scary.”
I groan inwardly and give a stern look at our oldest, who lifts her shoulder. “I told her about how it can be kind of scary after the parents leave on the first day.”
“See,” August says. “Scaredy cat.”
Brendon gives him a stern look before turning back to J.J. “You know, it’s okay to be scared.”
“You aren’t afraid of anything.”
“Sure I am.”
She eyes him dubiously. “Like what?”
“Well, when I was your age, I was afraid of fire.”
Her eyes grow wide as saucers. “But you’re a firefighter.”
“That’s because as I grew up, I learned to face my fears.
And they stopped being so scary.” He brushes a lock of hair behind her ear.
“I’m still scared of other things now. I worry that you or your brothers or your mommy might get hurt.
I’m afraid every time I have to get up in front of a room full of people to speak.
And your Uncle Slate terrifies me when he’s playing darts. ”
“But… you’re so brave.”
“Being brave doesn’t mean you aren’t afraid of things. It just means you don’t let them stop you.”
J.J. toys with the skirt of her dress, one of Daisy’s flower-covered hand-me-downs instead of the new outfit we bought while getting school supplies. “Does mommy get scared too?”
“Absolutely.” My throat aches for my daughter’s fears while my heart also burns with love for my family. “It’s okay to be scared.”
She nods slowly. “I want to be brave.”
“You are brave.” Daisy gives her little sister an encouraging nod. “You’re going to love school.”
Brendon’s face lights up with a grin. “Listen to your sister. She’s pretty wise.”
An hour later, we’re both a little sniffly from holding back tears after dropping off J.J. for her first day of school. After dropping off Daisy at the middle school and August at pre-school, Brendon reaches across the truck console and rests his hand on my knee.
“How are you doing?”
A single tear slips down my cheek, and I swipe it away. “I’m… okay. Our babies are growing up.”
“That’s a good thing.”
“It is.” My throat swells, because he knows the pain of seeing a child never grow up all too well. That’s why his only wish for our children is to watch them all grow up safe, healthy, and happy. “I just wish time went a little more slowly. I miss them being little babies.”
“Well…” He gives me a smoldering look. “If you’re feeling a little baby fever, there is something we can do about it.”
My melancholy evaporates and desire instantly takes it’s place. “Oh yeah?”
He nods and slides his hand further up my thigh. “And I know we both have an hour or two before we have to get to work.”
I open my mouth to respond, but a moan comes out as he strokes me through my linen pants.
“What do you say?” His voice is low and throaty. “Should we go make another baby, baby?”
We don’t even make it back home before our passions take over. Luckily, we both know this stretch of Alaska as well as we know each other.
And we both know where a couple in love can find a quiet place to make love.