Love Me (Take a Chance)

Epilogue


They’d come full circle.

Brianna stood at the open window of the honeymoon suite of the Lana’i Resort and looked out over the Hawaiian shoreline, the sand brilliantly white beneath the moonlight, the water a blue like midnight suede. The scent of the tropical air was like wine, light and floral with just a tang of salt and a hint of fruity sweetness. She closed her eyes and breathed in with a smile. One night in a hotel had led to so many amazing things.

And now, in another hotel an ocean away, she’d get to spend her first night with her new husband.

No kids. No interruptions. No drama. Just her, Thomas, and the ache that had been building between them since the day he’d proposed.

They’d managed to steal a few moments together. Twining together hastily on her desk in the back office of the Golden Hand Casino. Biting her hand to keep from screaming as they wrapped around each other in the shower, the one place her children seemed to recognize as too sacred to walk in on. Clinging to each other under the covers and praying Katelyn wouldn’t have another nightmare right now, when Brianna was so close—though Katelyn usually did, and so close was never close enough.

She loved her children. But she loved Thomas, too, and right now she wanted to love the things he could do to her.

The suite door opened, and a pile of luggage on two legs walked in, cursing and reeling. Thomas dropped the suitcases with a wheeze. “Good God, why wouldn’t you just let me tip the bellhop?”

“Because he was half your size, and you could use the exercise.”

“Are you saying I’m going soft?”

“I’ll have to find out for myself.”

She pushed away from the window and crossed the room. His arms wrapped around her and jerked her roughly against him with a fierceness that made her instantly wet. No, there was nothing soft about him—and the hardness pressing against her stomach reminded her that she hadn’t had a taste of him since before the wedding ceremony.

He sighed, warm and content. “You know, I was thinking about this right before I met you. All that’s missing is the ice-cold beer.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” He laughed, and the sound rumbled through her until her toes curled. “I’m just being an idiot. It’s my way of saying I’m happy.”

She bit her lip and reined herself in, reaching up to carefully touch his cheekbone. “Your nose looks better.”

They’d taken the tape and bandages off before the wedding, but there was still a slight bump and crook to his nose. She thought it was adorable—but she’d never tell him that.

He grimaced. “I still think my sense of direction is permanently shot now.”

“You’re not a pigeon, navigating with the iron in your nose.”

“No, right now I’m a dog and you’re in heat.” His hands slid up her back. His grin was devilish, dark. “That makes you my—”

“If you finish that, it’ll make me the wife who made you sleep on the balcony.”

“That’s not happening…Mrs. Jones.”

He dipped down and swung her up into his arms with easy strength, his powerful muscles bunching in ways that made her melt. She squeaked and clasped her hands behind his neck.

“I thought you were supposed to carry the bride across the threshold.”

“Across the threshold, to the bed…same difference. But if you want, I can go back out and bring you back in.”

“No,” she said. “Just kiss me.”

His dark, hungry smile was the only warning before he possessed her mouth with a hunger and intensity that swept her away in the sizzling fire between them. Kissing Thomas was like flipping a switch; the pent-up passion inside her broke free, infusing her with a wild desperation that left her hot, needful, her body tight and quivering with consuming hunger. His tongue caressed her lips, her mouth with a desire that made each stroke resonate through her entire body until her breasts felt heavy and her nipples peaked against the thin fabric of her sundress.

“Brianna,” he gasped.

She nipped at his upper lip. “Tell me you love me.”

He tumbled her to the bed. His long, hard body covered hers. He looked down at her with a possessive intensity that made her stomach flutter. His breath came harsh, and he spread a broad, rough hand over her stomach, stroking slowly upward until his fingertips grazed the underside of her breast.

“I love you,” he whispered, then dipped his head and took her nipple into his mouth, sucking through the cloth. She arched and wove her fingers into his hair with a gasp.

His teeth teased her gently, tugging carefully, taunting and grazing, before he covered her dampened breast with his palm and kneaded with a delicious strength that stopped just short of pain—a heated firmness and strength that left her writhing and arching up to thrust into his hand. He left a trail of fire everywhere he touched, burning her alive.

She needed to taste him. Her mouth trailed down his neck, and she pushed his light linen shirt back to nibble at his shoulder. Her hips rolled up against his, and she ground against him until he let out a tortured groan. That one sound made her feel wanton. Wild. Beautiful. Seductive. She spread her legs with a willingness that was deliciously shameful, wrapping her thighs around his hips until he pressed flush against her.

“Oh God,” she gasped, and bit at his throat. His cock teased her, pushing her panties into her wet, slick folds until she whimpered. “Oh God, yes!”

His mouth found her ear. His rushed breath teased her; his teeth captured her earlobe and tugged. “I love you. I love you more than anything,” he whispered.

“Don’t talk,” she said, then sucked in a sharp breath as his thumb flicked her nipple. “Just kiss me again.”

He answered with a kiss so fierce it drove all thought from her mind. She loved him like this. Loved when he let her see the wildness of him, the primal need that turned him from a man into this beast who claimed her body with dragging, sensuous caresses and stroked her to a shaking peak. His mouth branded her, bit at her hard enough to leave pleasurably burning-hot marks against her throat, like an animal marking his territory. His hands touched her with an arrogant certainty that said he knew her body too well—and knew exactly how to drive her wild.

When his fingers nudged her panties aside and eased into her, she clung to him, digging her fingernails into his back. The pad of his thumb circled her * in a maddening counter-rhythm to each thrust of his fingers until she was nearly dizzy, breathing so shallowly her lungs were tight, her throat aching from her cries. Her body clenched and spasmed around him, the callused texture of his fingers caressing her to a painful sensitivity. She felt like liquid fire, scorching and melting all in one.

“Jesus Christ, Brianna,” he hissed. She opened her eyes to hazy slits; he watched her with a near-obsessive intensity, his lips parted, his eyes glazed.

“More,” she begged, and rocked her hips into his hand. “Please, more!”

He gave her more. He worked her with his fingers until she was whimpering and lax with pleasure. He tore at her clothing, stripping her with a ruthless efficiency. His clothing joined hers on the floor, leaving his taut, sculpted body bare. She stroked her hands over him, relearning every inch of him by touch, tracing his wide shoulder, stroking her fingers through the light coating of hair sprinkled along his chest, following the thin trail down his stomach and lower.

He was ready for her, filling her hand, and with a low sound he rocked into her touch. “Brianna,” he warned, voice low, dangerous. His gaze devoured her. When he looked at her, she felt like the most beautiful person ever to exist. Inch by slow inch, he covered her body with his, his weight pressing her into the mattress. He kissed the swell of her breast, brushed his fingers along her inner thigh, and slipped his fingers through her wetness until her legs trembled.

Frenzied need swept through her. Suddenly his fingers weren’t enough, and she rolled him over, relishing the startled look on his face. His erection pressed against her, and with a hot little moan she stroked herself against him; his cock stroked against her, slick with her wetness, his thickness gliding between her thighs. He dug his fingers into her hips, held her still, and positioned himself nudging against her opening.

“No,” she said, and caught his hands. She pushed them down to the mattress on either side of his shoulders and leaned over him. “Me.”

He licked his lips, nodding, panting. “All right.”

Yet a little buck of his hips nearly undid her—and she shuddered, tightening her grip on his hands, lacing their fingers together in a silent message. Behave. For a moment longer she rubbed herself against him, then braced her knees to the bed and sank down on him with a breathy cry. He glided into her, piercing deep, forcing her thighs wider as she sank down to take inch after inch. His ragged sound was only a faint echo of the moans building up inside her. She rocked her hips and nearly fell apart as sweet, rough friction sizzled through her.

When she’d taken him fully, she fell still, gasping, savoring the sensation of their bodies joined together so intimately, his cock buried deeply inside her. His eyes were closed, his lips parted, his head tossed back, his pulse moving fast against the strong lines of his throat. After long moments, his eyes slipped open, their dark brown molten and scorching, hungry and wild.

“Love me,” he growled, and strained against her grip. “Love me, Brianna.”

She rolled her hips, and he rose up to meet her. Her entire body tightened around him, and she arched back, glorying in the vivid sensuality of the rhythm that swelled and surged between them. He tore his hands free from hers and ran his palms over her stomach, up her rib cage, to cup her breasts. His thumbs toyed over her nipples, and she screamed, tossed her head back, and rode him with an unrestrained abandon.

She’d never known it could feel this good to let herself go, to throw herself into such wild and unrestrained sexuality. Not until Thomas caught her in his arms and didn’t let her go. Their bodies crashed together again and again until sweat licked down her neck and her breasts ached from his rough touch, until a heaviness built deep in her belly and high in her thighs and the hard pressure invading her body on every thrust was too much to bear. She plunged down on him, took him deep, then lost herself in a blinding moment of bliss and glory as desire gripped her in an iron fist and wrung every last drop from her.

His thrusts were frantic, crazed, arrhythmic, and a moment later she felt the intimate caress of him filling her, climaxing, emptying himself into her. She collapsed against his chest; his arms wrapped around her, holding her close. His heavy breathing tickled her neck, but she wouldn’t trade any of it for the world.

“F*ck,” he gasped, and she couldn’t help an almost drunken little giggle.

“Swear jar,” she said, and together they dissolved into laughter.

When they could both breathe again, he kissed her brow and stroked her hair back. “Are you all right?”

“Of course.” She snuggled against him. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He kissed her nose and rolled to the side, dragging her with him; their bodies slipped apart, leaving her empty yet sated. “I got a little out of control.”

“You? I was a wild woman.”

“My wild woman.”

“Only for you,” she breathed, her finger tracing his lower lip. He caught her fingertip between his lips and nibbled.

“I’m ready for round two if you are.”

“Thomas!” She laughed and swatted him. “First…I have a surprise for you.”

His eyebrows rose. “Better than the one you just gave me?”

“It’s a wedding gift from the kids. They made me promise we wouldn’t open it until we were on our honeymoon.” She pushed herself up on her arms and kissed his nose. “Give me a second.”

She rolled out of bed. The night air from the open windows caressed her naked body, making her shiver. Not so long ago, she would have grabbed a robe, covered herself properly as a lady should. Now, she felt no need, and it left her feeling giddy, the way Thomas’s gaze followed her greedily as she walked naked across the room to their luggage.

A small wrapped package was tucked underneath her clothing in the bottom of one of the suitcases. It had been hastily gift-wrapped by clumsy, childish hands, and as she climbed back onto the bed she offered it to Thomas.

“What is this?” He sat up and turned the gift over in his hands, then started picking at the tape.

“I have no idea. They were very secretive. Zach even blushed. Open it, silly.”

Thomas ripped the paper away. Inside was a small plastic bag, red with marker and decorative designs scribbled over it in three different hands. All of their names were on it. Cody. Katelyn. Zach. Katelyn had written her K backward. Thomas smiled and traced the letters, then reached inside and pulled out a small, square object wrapped in tissue paper.

He unwrapped the paper. His breath caught. Inside was a picture frame with Family etched in elegant silver. Slotted into it was the picture of Brianna and Thomas at the tea party in Katelyn’s room. So she hadn’t gotten their laps after all. Instead she’d captured a perfect snapshot of Thomas and Brianna smiling, their eyes lit up with laughter. But even more, the kids had cut out pictures of themselves from other photographs and tucked them in around the edges, so they were all together.

A family. Her family. Their family.

Thomas blinked hard, his eyes suspiciously damp. “I can’t believe they did this.”

“I can,” she said. “They love you. We love you. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” His throat worked in a hard swallow. “All of you.”

She wrapped her arms around him and kissed his forehead, his nose, his cheek, his throat, and finally his lips. He kissed her with a passion that enveloped her in warmth. In hope. In love. He rolled her beneath him and kissed a path down to her breasts.

“I love you,” he said between kisses. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

She gasped and clasped her thighs against his hips, drawing him close until their bodies met and mated intimately. “And don’t ever stop.”