Epilogue

Lucy

I zip my makeup bag, the tidy conclusion of the last four whirlwind months.

"Lucy, you ready?" Chance's voice carries down the hall, tinged with urgency. The forecast promises a snowstorm, and Chance, ever the planner, is hellbent on outrunning it to Griffin's cabin.

"Coming!" I call, hefting my overnight bag over my shoulder. Its weight feels less significant than the decision still hanging in the air of this apartment, its key now cold and heavy in my pocket. Though we've yet to consolidate our lives under one roof officially, my presence has permeated his space in Ginny's basement unit, my things scattered among his belongings. I turn off the lights, the apartment darkening around me, and hurry up the stairs.

"Snow's picking up," he says as I emerge, the words almost visible in the chilly air. He's holding open the door, urgency written in the lines of his face, the excitement in his eyes. This trip is a stolen week away from the pace of our daily lives. "Let's beat the storm," he urges, grabbing my bags.

I nod, pulling my coat tight around me as we step out into the biting cold. Snowflakes swirl, a dance of white against the encroaching gray sky—a beautiful adversary. Chance locks the door behind us, and I watch him, this man who defies the very upbringing that shaped him. Meeting Chance's parents over the Christmas holidays felt like deep diplomacy, all steps measured and moves calculated. Yet there was an authenticity to their spartan home, where space breathed free of clutter, that spoke volumes about the childhood that shaped my rebel—my Chance. Where his parents' world is orderly and restrained, Chance embraces chaos, seeks the unpredictable. I love him for it, and I'm coming to find that his rebel heart in some ways mirrors my own.

Or maybe it's that he inspires me to embrace the unknown, the offbeat. After at first largely ignoring the information I've received about my biological dad being Jimmy O'Connor, I've finally started planning a trip to Ireland. Chance has been supportive and is even going to go along, letting Janelle off the hook. I haven't remotely decided what I'm going to do with a building and all that money, but I hope things will be clearer after I meet the lawyer I've been putting off. With Chance by my side this summer, I'll go see what needs to be done.

We hustle to the car, its engine already humming a warm welcome. "Ready for this?" He grins, his hand finding mine, interlacing fingers that seem designed to fit together.

"Always," I reply, squeezing back.

As Chance navigates the streets, I watch the city blur past, the snowflakes now racing us to some unseen finish line. "Griffin's place, huh?" I muse, picturing the cabin nestled in nature's embrace, a stark contrast to his usual high-society haunts.

"Only the best for you," Chance says with a wink, and I can't help but laugh. I don't need the best. I only need this—the thrill of the drive, the anticipation of seclusion, and Chance by my side.

As we merge onto the highway, the cityscape gives way to open road, and I lean back, letting the hum of the tires lull me into a peaceful state. The road unwinds before us, a ribbon of gray slicing through a world that's increasingly white. Snowflakes, in their erratic ballet, tap against the windshield, and Chance keeps his eyes on the road, a focused intensity that makes me feel safe despite the weather.

"Is Griffin going to be there?" I ask, breaking the silence that has settled between us.

Chance spares me a brief glance, his brow furrowing slightly. "He'd better not be," he mutters.

Two hours later, we ascend the final stretch, the cabin emerges, a fortress of solitude perched regally on the hillside. Silver Lake stretches out below, its frozen surface a flawless mirror reflecting the stoic pines that stand sentinel around it. My breath catches at the sight; the expanse of natural beauty is overwhelming.

"Who cleared the snow?" I gesture toward the immaculate driveway and walkways as we pull up.

"Griffin's place comes with all the bells and whistles, heated concrete included," Chance informs me.

I shake my head. Of course, Griffin would have heated concrete. We step out of the car, the air crisp. Chance types in the code Griffin provided, and the front door swings open.

"Wow," escapes my lips as we enter. The interior is grander than I'd imagined, the walls stretching up to meet wooden beams that cradle the ceiling high above. The windows frame the lake, turning it into a living painting that shifts with the light.

Chance wastes no time, shrugging off his coat and moving to the hearth. His movements are efficient as he builds a fire from logs that look like they've been waiting just for us. I set about unpacking the groceries we brought .

Flames soon spring to life under Chance's care, chasing away the chill.

"Fire's ready," he calls over his shoulder, and I admire the way the firelight plays across his face, highlighting his strong jaw and the determined set of his lips.

"Perfect timing," I reply, joining him by the fireplace.

Chance wraps his arms around me and nuzzles my neck, peppering kisses. "I think you're wearing too many clothes."

It's hard to concentrate when he does this. "Here in front of the window?"

His fingers slip under my sweater and into my bra as he plays with my nipple. I shiver with anticipation.

"I think your body wants us to have sex here in front of the fire and the windows."

I turn around, and our lips meet in a searing kiss.

He steps away from me, both of us breathing hard. I understand the desire that thrums between us, and I'm more than willing to oblige. As he takes a seat in the leather chair, a shiver of excitement runs through me. With a smile meant just for him, seductive and brimming with promise, I reach for the hem of my sweater. The fabric grazes my skin as I lift it over my head, the cool air of the cabin peaking my nipples beneath the thin lace of my bra.

Turning away, I give a little push at my waistband, sliding my jeans down to reveal the curve of my behind. His sharp intake of breath tells me how much he enjoys the view.

"Turn around." His voice is a caress, a velvet touch that sends a shudder through me.

I comply, and the sight of him—his arousal so evident, straining against his pants—makes my body clench.

"You're fucking beautiful," he says, each word a stroke against my already heated skin.

He rises, shedding his clothes with an impatience that mirrors my own. Pants, boxers, and sweater are discarded in swift succession, revealing the man I've come to adore in all his raw masculinity. As he strokes himself, the blatant need in his gaze ignites something primal within me.

"See what you do to me?" he murmurs. Chance retakes his seat, every line of his body taut with expectation. "Come here," he commands, and I cross the distance on trembling legs, drawn to him as surely as the flames are drawn to the night.

I lower myself onto the plush rug, my hands and knees sinking into its softness. The heat from the fire dances across my bare skin, but it's his smoldering gaze that truly warms me. His eyes hold a heavy lust, darkened to the color of a storm-ravaged sea.

"Come closer," he growls, gravel in his voice.

I crawl forward, each movement deliberate, fueled by the anticipation.

"Lucy, suck my cock."

His command is raw, edged with need, and my core clenches. My breaths come shallow and quick, and I gaze up into his hungry eyes. His cock stands before me, engorged and leaking with desire—desire for me. It's a heady thought.

I lean in, inhaling the musky scent of his arousal before my tongue darts out to lick up the slit, gathering the glistening bead of precum. Its salty tang mingles with the heat of the fire, igniting my senses. With care, I trace my tongue along the underside, feeling him tense and swell even more under my ministrations.

Finally, I take each of his balls into my mouth, one at a time, sucking gently as if they hold the essence of his passion. And perhaps they do, for Chance leans into the chair, his head thrown back, eyes closed, lost in the sensations I coax forth. There's no mistaking the deep satisfaction on his face, the way his chest heaves, the way his fingers grip the armrests.

In this moment, there's nothing else—no snowstorm outside, no cabin around us—just Chance and the silent language of our bodies. He's here with me, fully present, and I know without a doubt he's loving this.

His gaze finds mine, and the intensity in his eyes is a force that draws me deeper. My lips encase him, and I take him in, feeling the velvet steel of him against my tongue. He groans, his hand finding my chest, slipping beneath the lace of my bra. A pinch of my nipple, sharp and sweet, sends electric thrills spiraling through me, straight to the heat between my legs. My core clenches, craving more, but this isn't about my pleasure. It's about his unraveling.

I hum around him, my pride swelling as much as he does in my mouth. I adore the way he loses himself when I'm worshipping him with my lips and tongue. Yet even amidst this surge of power, there's an edge of frustration. He never allows me the satisfaction of completion.

"Enough," he suddenly commands. "Lie back on the rug."

Obediently, I pull away and recline on the plush fabric, the fireplace doing little to quell the chill that forms with the absence of his skin against mine. I part my thighs, the sheer fabric of my panties barely concealing the evidence of my arousal.

He positions himself between my legs, his fingers tracing the damp silk, teasing me through the barrier. "You look good enough to eat." His words are a promise that stirs a desperate moan within my chest.

"Yes, please," escapes my lips.

His fingers have barely grazed me, yet I'm teetering on the brink, ready to shatter under the weight of my own desire. Chance knows exactly how to ignite my body. And right now, I am aflame.

With a decisive movement, Chance tears at the side of my panties. The sound of fabric giving way sends another jolt of anticipation through me. His fingers then dance over my most sensitive spot, circling with an expertise that has me gasping as I arch into his touch.

"Come here," he says, his voice thick with desire.

He shifts, lying back on the rug, and motions for me to straddle him. I position myself, feeling warmth emanating from his body, the heat from the fire now a mere backdrop to our own burning intensity. Lowering myself, I guide his eager mouth to my waiting flesh. The moment his tongue meets my skin, a shiver courses through me, and I lose all sense of place and time. It's just his mouth, his hands, and the waves of pleasure rolling over me.

Distracted by the sweet torment, I lean forward, taking him into my mouth. His taste, mingled with my own arousal, is intoxicating. I savor him, drawing him deeper, listening to his moans that blend with mine. He doesn't hold back, and within moments, my body convulses around the crest of the climax he's skillfully coaxed from me. As I shatter, he licks me clean, each stroke of his tongue both soothing and igniting the aftershocks of my release.

Before I can catch my breath, he pulls away, and with gentle firmness rolls me onto my back. The soft rug cushions me as he positions himself at my entrance. I look up into his eyes, finding them alight with something fierce and tender all at once.

Then he enters me with one hard thrust, filling me completely, claiming me in the most primal of ways. "I love you," he breathes out, the words hitting me as hard as he does.

He sets a punishing pace, in and out, as if each stroke could convey the depth of his feelings. His breath is heavy and ragged. He's close. Then, his hands find my breasts, fingers pinching my nipples in a rhythm that sends electric shocks straight to my core.

"Chance," I gasp, teetering on the brink once again.

"Lucy…" He groans, his voice breaking on my name.

In perfect synchrony, we reach the peak. We moan together, a duet of climax that echoes in the vastness of the cabin. My vision whites out as waves crash over me, his name a silent prayer on my lips.

I'm still catching my breath, the heat of our passion dissipating into the cooler air of the cabin, when Chance's arms envelop me. With infinite care, he reaches for a blanket draped over the back of the nearby couch and wraps it around my spent body.

He moves away for a moment, scrambling to find his pants. I watch him, a smile playing on my lips; even in such mundane actions, there's an urgency I find endearing. But then he's back, wrapping me once again in the warmth of his arms.

"Lucy," he whispers, and time seems to hold its breath.

There in his hand, clasped gently between his fingers, is a solitaire diamond ring. Its simple beauty catches the light, casting prisms across the walls, as if the room itself is coming alive.

"You are everything to me," Chance says. "You're amazing in every way, and there will never be anyone better for me." A vulnerability flickers across his face, a silent plea for me to understand the depth of his conviction. "I can only hope to be as worthy a partner for you. But I promise to try. Lucy, will you marry me?"

The question hangs in the air as shock ripples through me, followed by an undertow of joy so intense it threatens to sweep me off my feet. My heart hammers against my ribs, a wild thing seeking escape, as a single word forms on my lips.

"Yes."

It's more than affirmation; it's a revelation, an acceptance of our intertwined souls. Yes to Chance, yes to love, yes to a future filled with the beautiful unknown. And as I say it, the world shifts, aligning itself to the new path we have chosen together.

Thank you for giving me your spare time and the opportunity to entertain you. I hope I met your expectations.