I wanted to say no. I wanted to rebuild my walls and retreat to the safety of schedules and spreadsheets and a life where no one could disappoint me because I never let anyone close enough to try. But I was so tired of being safe.
"Okay," I breathed. "One dinner."
His smile was like the sun breaking through clouds. "I'll take it."
When he kissed me, soft and slow and full of promise, I let myself believe—just for a moment—that maybe real life could be like the books, after all.
EPILOGUE
KAMERON
Three years of marriage, and I still couldn't stop staring at my husband.
Conner stood at the stove in our cabin, stirring something that smelled like garlic and butter, completely unaware that I was watching him from the couch. He'd rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, and I could see the muscles in his forearms shift as he worked. His hair was a mess from running his hands through it, and he was humming something off-key under his breath.
He'd insisted on cooking tonight. I'd been on my feet at the roadhouse for nine hours, and the second I walked through the door, he'd steered me toward the couch and told me to stay put.
I pressed a hand to my belly, feeling the small swell there. Four months along, just starting to show. My jeans had stopped buttoning last week, and Conner had looked at me like I'd hung the moon when I complained about it.
Now, watching him move around our kitchen, all I could think about was getting my hands on him. Pregnancy hormones were no joke.
I pushed myself up from the couch and padded toward the kitchen, my eyes fixed on my husband's back. The floorboards creaked softly under my bare feet, but Conner didn't turn around. He was too focused on whatever masterpiece he was creating in that pan.
I slipped up behind him, sliding my arms around his waist and pressing my body flush against his back. My cheek rested between his shoulder blades, and I inhaled the warm, familiar smell of him—soap mixed with a hint of sweat from chopping wood earlier.
"You look so damn hot right now," I murmured against his shirt, my hands splaying over his firm stomach.
He chuckled, low and rumbling, the sound vibrating through me. "Is that so? Just standing here stirring shrimp like some kind of?—"
His words cut off abruptly as my hand drifted lower, boldly sliding over the front of his jeans. I felt the heat of him through the denim, the subtle twitch as I cupped him teasingly.
"Like some kind of what?" I whispered, my fingers finding the button of his fly and popping it open with a soft snap.
Conner sucked in a sharp breath, his stirring spoon pausing mid-motion. "Jesus, baby…”
I didn't give him time to finish. My hand slipped inside, under the waistband of his boxers, wrapping around his thick length.
He was already hot to the touch, velvet-soft skin over steel, pulsing faintly as he began to harden in my grip. I stroked him slowly, feeling him swell and thicken with each pass of my fingers.
He groaned, reaching blindly to twist the knobs on the stove, shutting off the burners with a click. Then he spun around, his dark eyes blazing as he yanked me against him.
His mouth crashed onto mine in a hungry kiss, all teeth and tongue. His hands were everywhere—tugging my sweater over my head, unhooking my bra with practiced ease, shoving my leggings down my hips.
Clothes hit the floor in a frantic pile. Naked and breathless, he lifted me effortlessly onto the kitchen island, the cool granite a shock against my heated skin. He dropped to his knees between my spread thighs, his strong hands gripping my hips as he pulled me to the edge.
The first swipe of his tongue had me gasping, my head falling back. He licked me slowly at first, savoring, his mouth hot and wet as he traced every fold. Then he focused on my clit, circling and sucking with just the right pressure, his fingers sliding inside me to curl against that perfect spot.
Pleasure built fast and fierce, coiling tight in my core until I came. I cried out his name as waves of ecstasy crashed over me, my thighs trembling around his shoulders.
Panting, I hopped down from the island, my legs shaky. Conner rose, his cock poking out of his open jeans, glistening at the tip.
I sank to my knees, jerking the denim and boxers down his thighs in one swift motion. I watched as his cock sprang free, hard and heavy in my hand.
Smiling, I took him into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the head, tasting the salt of his arousal. He groaned deeply, his fingers threading through my hair as I bobbed, sucking him deeper, hollowing my cheeks.
"Fuck, your mouth feels so good," he rasped, hips flexing slightly. But he held out only so long before tugging me gently to my feet, his control fraying.
I turned, bracing my hands on the island, bending forward and parting my legs wide. Glancing over my shoulder, I met his heated gaze.
