Epilogue
Three Years Later
Garrett
The fire crackles and music flows from the speaker of the silver CD player on the side table. I push away from the desk and look out the window. A light blanket of snow coats the woodland outside, grey clouds hanging heavy in the sky above.
It’s two days before Christmas and I’m alone in the cottage. The same one Roman and I have stayed in multiple times a year since first meeting here.
Traipsing into the kitchen, I check the time on the clock above the door, then open the fridge, survey the contents and close it again. Everything I need for tonight’s meal is prepared. Shepherd’s pie. A garden salad. Strawberry sherry trifle.
Going out onto the deck, I wave my hand through the warm water of the hot tub, noticing the candles I lit are still burning and the two towels and champagne glasses are as I left them.
Five minutes have passed when I return to the kitchen. I sit on the stool and tap my foot to an unknown beat, looking out the window and then at my hands resting on my lap. A very important question burns on the tip of my tongue, excitement, nervousness and longing whirling inside me.
When the sound of a car door slamming shut reverberates through the room, I jump out of my seat and head to the front of the cottage.
Roman is barely through the door when my hands are on him. It’s been too fucking long and I take a moment to taste and breathe him in. The comfort only he can bring me, settling in my soul.
“Gare,” he whimpers as our mouths collide in a kiss that is full of longing and love. Roman drops his bag at our feet, his empty hands grappling at my cardigan. He fists the fabric, tilting his head and deepening the kiss.
With my hands on his sides, I hoist him up and he wraps his legs around my waist. Without parting our lips, I guide us to the bedroom where I settle Roman on his feet at the foot of the bed.
The curtains are open, the fading daylight streaming in through cracks in the clouds and casting the room in a soft glow.
“Missed you, sweet thing,” I mumble against his skin, trailing my lips along his cheek and down his neck. Roman sways on his feet, pressing closer.
Being apart from Roman never gets easier, but this last week was the longest we’ve been separated since we met all those Christmases ago.
He had a charity event to attend in America, and because of an important meeting with my publisher, I couldn’t go with him.
We agreed to meet here at the cottage where we will spend Christmas and New Year’s.
“Missed you too, my love,” he says.
I kiss his lips again, then along his cheek and to the soft skin behind his ear.
With my mouth on him, I undo his coat and pull it down his arms, depositing it on the floor.
Then I work his hoodie over his head, continuing my kisses to dip in his collarbone and over to the other side.
He shivers, his hands drawing patterns on my shoulders.
Dropping to my knees, I push up his tee and place open-mouthed kisses in a line across his stomach. Roman cards his hands into my hair, tangling them with the long strands.
“If this is the welcome I get, I should go away more often,” he jokes.
“No,” I grumble, scratching my beard over the smooth expanse of skin, the way I know he likes. “Our home is too lonely without you.”
He chuckles, his fingers scraping over my scalp, sending shivers nipping down my spine.
“That’s why we have Rory,” he muses, referring to the golden retriever puppy he bought me for my birthday.
She is good company, but in the three years that we’ve been together, Roman and I have become exceptionally codependent. I fucking love it.
I love his neediness. I love how much he desires to be held and cared for. I love that he’s never quiet and that he leaves half-drunk mugs of tea and biscuit crumbs all over the house.
I love everything about this man.
My hands map Roman’s lower back, my fingers sliding along his dimples then dropping to squeeze his ass. I nuzzle against the fabric that’s fallen back over his stomach before sitting back on my heels and peering up at him.
Roman’s cheeks are pink-stained with a flush that spreads down his neck and the liner under his eyes is smudged, like he’s been rubbing at them. The muscles of his stomach are taut beneath the white fabric of his t-shirt, his chest moving with each rapid breath that escapes his kiss-swollen lips.
He is a vision.
I shift my stance, bringing a knee up, so that I am only resting on one. Roman’s eyes widen, and I keep mine locked on them as I reach into my back pocket.
“Garrett,” he says, his hand coming up to cover his mouth, his eyes trained on the glint of platinum held between my two fingers.
“Marry me?” I swallow past the lump in my throat, my eyes burning with tears that match the swell in his. “I love you, Roman Otley. I love the parts you think I won’t love – every chaotic, messy, clingy part of you. I love it all.”
Roman rests a hand on my cheek. “I love that you still can’t cook, or that you pretend not to because you want me to do all the cooking.
I love that you steal all of my shirts. I love that you smile so easily and you love so fiercely.
And I love that you gave me a home, Roman.
I love everything you are, everything you will be.
But most of all, I love us and what we have, right here. So marry me, please?”
Tears trail down his cheeks as he sinks to his knees. Roman leans in, resting his hand on my chest, right over my heart, and brushes his lips to mine.
“Yes. Yes. A million, billion yesses.”
My heart soars.
“I love you Garrett,” he starts. “I have from the very first time you kissed me. I love you more and more every day. Yes, I’ll marry you. I’ll be your family, your husband. You’re everything to me, Gare Bear. Everything.”
Roman drops his left hand from my chest and I look down to where he’s holding it out, fingers splayed. Trembling, I slide the ring on.
He flings himself forward, and I catch him, the two of us falling backwards. His brown eyes are damp around the edges, his lashes clumping together. I trace a line under them with my thumb, catching the wetness.
Rolling us so that Roman is beneath me, I rest my forehead on his. His hands wrap around my back, holding me tightly.
“I love you, sweet thing.”
Roman
“Keep your hands there.” Garrett’s voice is gruff when he presses my hands to the mirror. His beard scratches the nape of my neck, and his suit jacket rubs against the naked skin of my back. He moves lower, his mouth tracing a path down my spine. Goosebumps prickle over my skin.
“We’re going to be late,” I mumble. My words turn into a moan when he trails his hands down my body before parting my ass cheeks and licking a stripe over my entrance. Garrett ignores my feeble protest – I couldn’t care less if we’re late – and plunges his tongue inside me.
My cock is hard and I ache to take myself in hand, but I don’t dare move.
“Fuck, you’re delicious,” he grumbles before he’s back at my entrance. He’s relentless, fucking his tongue in and out of my tight hole, nipping, sucking and licking until I’m a trembling mess, begging him for more.
“Please Gare Bear, please.”
Garrett stands, the full weight of him pressing me up against the mirror.
He’s fully dressed in a well-fitted navy blue suit, but he’s freed his cock and it sits hot and hard against my ass.
My own suit lies in disarray on the floor next to us.
One look at me in a suit turned my lumberjack feral, and I was out of it and up against our bathroom mirror in the blink of an eye.
“I’ll give you everything you need, sweet thing. I always will.”
His hand skates between my cheeks, toying at my hole.
He taps against the opening, making me mewl.
Promising but not giving. Teasing but not delivering.
If we had hours, I’ve no doubt he’d edge me until I was crying.
Wouldn’t be the first time. But time isn’t our friend right now and I have an inkling of fear that he’ll leave me hard and wanting all evening.
“Gare, please. I need you.”
Cold air tickles my skin when Garrett steps away.
“Don’t move your hands, sweet thing. Or you will have a very uncomfortable evening.”
God, I love him.
I nod, resting my cheek against the mirror between my hands, the cool of the glass welcome on my overheated skin.
When Garrett returns, he wastes no time pressing a lubed finger into my hole, twisting and thrusting to open me up. I whimper at the intrusion and fullness as he adds another.
“That’s it. You’re going to come for me, okay?”
He fucks his fingers in and out; the drag eased by the lube.
I make a garbled sound as he removes both fingers, then thrusts them back in, nudging against my prostate. Fire flicks in my belly and I moan loudly in the quiet of the room.
“You’re so beautiful,” Garrett says, working his fingers deeper.
My stomach muscles clench and my balls draw tight.
“Look at us,” he demands, easing back slightly, enough for me to look at the two of us in the mirror.
Him in his suit and me stark naked, dick flushed and leaking, my nipples – newly pierced on a dare – peaked.
“Gare, please, I need to touch –”
“No,” he stops my words. “You can come just like this. I know you can, sweet thing.”
He fucks me harder with his fingers, then bites into the soft skin of my shoulder.
“Paint this mirror with your come.”
His fingers in my ass and his mouth on my neck are relentless. I writhe under his touch, my temperature soaring. I’m right there.
“I’m going to fill you with my cum and make you keep it inside all night,” he whispers, tapping at the sensitive bundle of nerves deep inside me. I explode with a shout, my knees shaking and my body going lax, held up by the mirror and the strong hands of the man I love.
Garrett’s warm palms rub over my back, coming to my hips and pulling my ass out. With my face and hands still plastered to the cool glass, he slides into me, a satisfied sound rumbling from his chest.
“One more for me, sweets?”
I laugh through a moan. “Fuck, no way, Gare. We really do need to leave soon.”
“Hmm. Later then,” he muses, picking up the pace of his thrusts. His belt buckle knocks the side of my leg, the fabric of his open trousers sliding against my ass with his movements.
Garrett has a hand on my hip and the other he moves to my cheek, pressing me harder into the mirror and I close my eyes, pleasure building again in my lower body, settling in a slow simmer.
Given more time, this man, the love of my life, could wring many more orgasms out of me.
But tonight is his big night, and we simply cannot be late.
Garrett’s movements stutter, his breath hot on the back of my neck. “Mine, sweet thing. All mine.”
He comes with a growl, his teeth finding the top of my shoulder, his entire weight crowding me.
“I love you,” he rasps.
“Love you too, Gare Bear.”
Garrett pulls back, his cock sliding from my softened hole. I suck in a breath, shuddering when a blunt, silicone head breaches me, pushing past the tight rings of muscle.
“What are you doing there, my love?” I ask, though I know exactly what he’s done. Garrett runs the palms of his hands over my ass cheeks before stepping back. I turn to watch him straighten his suit and pat down his hair.
He grins, the gold in his eyes twinkling in the dim light of our large en-suite bathroom.
“Keeping you ready for me. For later.” Garrett closes the space between us, one hand parting my cheeks and the other tapping the head of the butt plug he’s left inside me. “Marking you. Making you mine.”
I smile. “So, nothing new then?”
“Nope.”
Garrett holds me tightly, and I sense his reluctance to let go. I’d much rather stay in and cuddle. We’ve been engaged for a month, and we’ve locked ourselves in a magnificent bubble of passion and love to celebrate. But now, the real world is calling.
“I’m proud of you,” I say, my voice gentle.
And it’s the truth. Out of the Blue, the book Garrett was working on in the cottage, broke all his previous records.
His fans fell in love with Blaine and the romance woven into the story and are eager for more of the couple, the drama, the mystery and the romance.
Tonight is the premier of the television adaptation of the best-selling series. Tonight, millions will see DI Jack Sniper come to life, seeing all the hard work my future husband has put into this project.
And I will be right there, by his side. Where I plan to be for the rest of our lives.
THE END