Epilogue

Gracie

Thirty Years Later…

A nd that's when my brave hero stood up, wrapped his hand around Hector Contreras' neck, and said ? —

"Those glasses are really doing something for me," Ryker says as he leans on the door of my home office, interrupting my writing time.

I laugh as I look up at him. "Seriously?"

"Seriously."

He's looking like he wants to ravage me, and I do not look cute right now. I'm in my thick wooly socks, leggings that are full of cat hair because our tabby always insists on sitting on my lap whenever I'm writing, an oversized sweater I got at a garage sale, and my hair is tied up into a messy bun that's been slowly falling apart for the past hour. It's barely holding together.

"Are you almost ready for a break?" he asks as he comes strutting over in his jeans and T-shirt. This man is in his late sixties, but he doesn't look a day over fifty. He's still as hot as ever with his big muscular body and sexy brown eyes. He can still get me going at the drop of a hat.

He sits on my desk and my body starts tingling. I know that look and I know what's about to happen. My body does too and it's getting all fluttery.

"I need a few minutes," I say as I tear my eyes off him and look at my laptop screen. I've been writing my memoirs about all of the amazing stories and crazy adventures my career has taken me on. It's been a wild ride and now I'm compiling all of it into a book. "I'm at the best part."

"Which part?" he asks with a sly grin. "The ice machine?"

My cheeks get all hot as I remember that amazing moment in El Nicanduras when he made me cum for the first time. I screamed so loud they probably heard me at the front desk.

"Not the ice machine," I say, feeling my nipples hardening as he looks at my breasts. He can't see much with this baggy sweater covering them, but he's probably picturing them in his mind. He's seen them enough times over the decades that I'm sure he can make an accurate mental picture. "When you killed Hector for me."

"I want to hear about the ice machine," he says with a grin. "That's my favorite part."

"Oh really?" I say, blushing even harder. How this man can still make me blush after thirty years is a mystery I'll never understand.

"Really," he says as he slowly closes my laptop and stands in front of me. He's so big. I have to crane my neck back to look into his lust-filled brown eyes.

I'm never going to get this book done with him around. He always comes and distracts me in the best possible way. I don't mind though. It's more fun than writing.

"I think we should reenact it," he says as he leans down and hovers his mouth over mine.

"Do you have an ice machine in the garage?" I ask as I stare into his dreamy eyes. "I haven't seen it."

"No ice machine," he says as he picks me up and puts me on the desk. "But we have all we need."

I moan as he slips his big hands into my waistband and pulls my leggings and panties down. "We have your hot little pussy, my hungry tongue, and this."

My head lulls back as he reaches into my lemonade and pulls out an ice cube. "Oh shit."

He grins as he tosses the ice cube into his mouth and drops to his knees.

Fuck the book.

Real life is better anyway.

My man touches the ice to my burning heat and I moan so loudly they can probably hear me in El Nicanduras. All these years later and my man can still drive me wild.

My savage shifter. My Ryker. My mate.

The End!