Epilogue

epilogue

DREW- 4 YEARS LATER

"Wet for me, baby girl?"

The streetlights flashed through the curtained windows of the limo as we wound through the city streets. The glow was just enough that I could make out the perfection of Bellamy's face. All dark hair and perfect jawline, a smirk that promised to make all my problems disappear—of which I had none.

"You say that to all the girls?" I asked, then felt him smirk against my skin while he worked the strap of my dress from my shoulder.

"Only you…" He pulled my panties to the side, and his finger slipped inside me. "Soaked, like always."

His teeth raked my neck, and that addictive buzz hummed through my veins the same way it always did for him. "I'm not fucking you," I teased.

" Not gonna fuck me, huh?" His finger worked deeper. "So what, you came all the way to France with me and hopped into the back of a limo to play a game of ‘get to know you?'" His mouth moved from my throat to my breast while he pushed my skirt above my hips.

I let out a laugh that was half lost on a moan when his fingers pushed deeper.

"So what? You wanna know my favorite color?"

"Your favorite color is black."

He glanced up, frowning. "That's not how you roleplay, Drew." Then he spread my legs and settled between them, locking eyes with me as he nipped at the inside of my thigh. "Or should I call you Genevieve?"

It had been over four years, and he still wouldn't let me live that down. "Oh, fuck you, Bellamy." I fisted his hair and yanked.

"That's more like it." His teeth sank into my skin on a groan, then his hand went for my throat. "I like it when you get all angry."

Less than five minutes later, his dress slacks were undone and he was buried inside of me.

There was something undeniably sexy about him in that tuxedo, going at me like a wild man. He might look civilized right now, but he wasn't, and there was nothing civilized about the way he fucked me. Choking and biting between whispered, dirty words.

The car rolled into the port just as that weightless feeling took hold, heating my body in a tidal wave of bliss. I had to bury my face in Bellamy's chest to silence the moans.

"Shit," he huffed, picking up his pace until he stiffened, then let out a guttural groan I knew the driver had to have heard.

"I swear to God, I could never get tired of this." He pressed a kiss to my lips, sweeping a hand over my jaw then tugging my dress back in place.

"Good." I kissed him before we stumbled out of the car onto the harbor side.

Mom's yacht was docked farther down, a floating ode to luxury and all things Bellamy and I had very little to do with these days. Even though they were at our full disposal.

I took his hand, winding my fingers through his. I needed to tell him something before we stepped on that boat and someone offered me champagne I couldn't drink. My stomach clenched with nerves, and I chewed on my bottom lip.

He turned to look at me, and his brows knitted together. "Are you going to throw up or something?" And ironically, it wasn't that far off the mark.

"I have to tell you something," I said.

His expression fell, suspicion evident in the scowl now shaping his face.

Panic settled in. "I uh…" I fidgeted with the top of my dress even though it was completely in place. "I know it's not ideal...but…" Deep breath. "I'm pregnant."

His eyes slowly widened as his gaze dropped from my face to my stomach, then back. "You're pregnant…" He swiped a hand over his jaw. "Okay. You're pregnant. Shit. Okay. So... Right."

He paced the promenade for a second, dragging his hand through his hair and mumbling to himself.

I knew what he must be thinking. We were twenty-two. This was ridiculous, but we were okay. Bellamy had just graduated with a business degree and was working for my dad, learning the company's ropes. I'd just secured a job as a social worker.

We weren't rich, but we were fine.

Although, Arlo may kill us. Last week at dinner, before we left for France, he'd made the statement that we weren't allowed to have a baby until he was grown-up, claiming he refused to share our attention. I'd just have to make the idea of him being an uncle at ten years old seem like the best thing in the world—and buy him another unicorn. Now, if Bellamy would just say something because my nerves were making me sick.

Bellamy came back over and grabbed my hand. "Okay. So, I have to ask you a question." Then he dropped to one knee on the cobblestone pathway, the lights from the boats playing over his face. "Will you marry me, baby girl?"

"Oh my God. This is so Dayton right now. You do not have to marry me just because you got me knocked-up."

"I was gonna marry you anyway." He glared up at me. "Stop ruining shit, and say you'll marry me."

I rolled my eyes. "Fine. Yes, I'll marry you, but I'm not waddling down some aisle."

He straightened and kissed me in a way that said he'd never leave me. "You want to keep it Dayton? We'll just go to the courthouse when we get back to the States." He smirked, then pressed another kiss to my lips.

I took his hand, starting toward the boat. "My dad always said you'd get me knocked up."

Good thing my dad liked him now. This was so cliché, the rich girl getting pregnant with the bad boy.

"Guess I'm just no good, huh, baby girl?"

But he was. Bellamy West was good just for me.

the end