Epilogue 1 - Olivia

Eighteen months later

Our mountain lodge wedding at the Whisper Valley Function Center was perfect—intimate and beautiful, filled with twinkling lights and the love of our closest family and friends. Now, standing alone in our honeymoon suite's luxurious bathroom, I run my fingers over the delicate lace of the lingerie Sara and Natalie had gifted me at my bachelorette party last week.

“You'll knock his socks off in this,” Sara had declared with a wink, while Natalie nodded enthusiastically. And they were right—the ivory silk and lace somehow makes me feel both sexy and elegant. More importantly, it makes me feel like me. I’ve never been super into lingerie since I don’t think most brands cater properly to plus-sized bodies, even when they have inclusive sizing. But these amazing women found something that both fit my curves and flatters my shape.

I hear Calvin moving around in the bedroom, probably hanging up his tux jacket. My husband. The thought makes me smile as I slip into the lingerie, smoothing the silk over my curves. A year ago, I never would have imagined finding not just love, but a second family among the Nighthawks. Yet here I am, surrounded by people who love and accept me exactly as I am.

Taking a deep breath, I touch the sapphire pendant Calvin gave me this morning—something blue to match my engagement ring. Blue, like my eyes and the Nighthawks' colors, he'd said. A reminder that choosing each other was destiny.

With one final glance in the mirror, I open the bathroom door. Calvin stands by the window, still in his tuxedo pants with his bow tie hanging loose around his neck. He turns at the sound of the door, and the look in his eyes makes my heart skip.

“Hi, husband,” I whisper.

“Hi, wife.” He crosses the room in three long strides, pulling me into his arms, his lips brushing against my ear. “You look incredible.”

“Do you like it?” I ask, already knowing the answer but craving his validation and praise.

“I love it,” he says, his hands roaming my back, my hips. “But I love you—and what’s underneath this silk—more.”

I giggle, but then he’s kissing me, slow and deep, and I don’t feel like laughing anymore. I melt into him, his mouth, his embrace. This man, this beautiful, passionate man who had once been a stranger, is now my everything. My heart swells with a love so deep it almost hurts.

When we finally break apart, I'm breathless, my skin tingling where his hands have traced. He takes a step back, his eyes never leaving mine, and reaches for a bottle of champagne that sits chilling in a silver bucket by the nightstand.

“Let's make a toast,” he says, his voice rough with emotion and need. He pops the cork with a practiced ease, and it flies across the room with a soft thud. Foam spills over the lip of the bottle before he pours it into two flutes, the bubbles dancing in the crystal.

I take the glass he offers me, and we touch them together with a delicate clink. “To forever,” I say, my voice a whisper, fragile as glass.

“To forever,” Calvin echoes, his eyes locked on mine with an intensity that sends a shiver down my spine. I can’t believe we’re finally married.

These past eighteen months have been a whirlwind of professional triumphs neither of us expected when we first chose each other over our careers. Calvin has been playing the best hockey of his life, his performance so outstanding that talks of retirement have transformed into speculation about whether he'll break the record for oldest active player in the NHL. The combination of my specialized training programs and his renewed passion for the game has revolutionized how teams approach player longevity. Meanwhile, my research on injury prevention and recovery techniques has been published in several prestigious sports medicine journals, and I've been invited to speak at international conferences—opportunities I never would have had if I'd stayed in my comfortable position with the Fury. Together, we've built something bigger than ourselves, proving that sometimes the scariest choices lead to the most beautiful outcomes. And now, standing here as husband and wife, we're ready to write the next chapter of our story.

We sip the champagne, the effervescence tickling my nose and adding to the giddy swirl of emotions inside me. Calvin sets his glass down and takes mine from my hand, placing it carefully on the nightstand. His eyes rake over my body, drinking in every detail.

“That lingerie set really is stunning, Liv. Seems a shame I’m going to have to leave it ruined on the bedroom floor.”

A smile tugs at my lips. “Who says you have to ruin it?”

Calvin raises an eyebrow, his hands already reaching for me. “Are you suggestin’ I need more restraint?”

“I'm suggesting you savor it,” I say, my voice low and teasing. “Savor me.”

He chuckles, a deep, warm sound that sends a flush through my entire body. “As you wish, my wife.”

With a tenderness that makes my heart ache, he traces the outline of the lace with his fingertips, not rushing, just exploring. His touch is light, almost reverent.

I close my eyes, losing myself in the sensation of Calvin's touch. His fingers trail up my sides, over my ribs, ghosting the sides of my breasts, making me shiver. When his thumbs graze my nipples through the delicate fabric, they pebble instantly, aching for more contact.

“Calvin,” I breathe. “Please.”

He leans down, his lips replacing his fingers as he traces the scalloped edge of the lace with his tongue. My hands fly to his hair, threading through the short strands as I hold him close. He lavishes attention on one breast, then the other, sucking and nipping until I'm panting, my hips rocking against him in search of friction.

“I thought you wanted me to savor you,” he murmurs against my heated skin, his stubble rasping deliciously against my sensitized flesh.

“I do,” I gasp, as his teeth graze my nipple through the fabric. “But I also really, really want you to touch me.”

I can feel his smile against my breast before he pulls back, his eyes darkened with desire. “Well, since you asked so nicely...”

His hands slide down my body, mapping my curves until they reach the hem of the panties. He hooks his fingers in the sides, slowly dragging them down my legs and helping me step out of them. I'm left in just the bra.

Calvin takes a step back, his gaze raking over me. “Absolutely stunning. I’m the luckiest man alive.”

Before I can respond, he's on his knees, urging me to perch on the edge of the bed. He gently parts my thighs, settling between them like he belongs there. And god, does he ever.

“I plan to savor every single inch of you, Mrs. Barrett,” he says, pressing a kiss to my inner thigh that makes me tremble. “Starting right here.”

And then his mouth is on me, his tongue parting my folds and finding my most sensitive spot with unerring accuracy. I cry out, my head falling back as pleasure sparks through my veins. He takes his time, learning my body all over again, stoking the fire building low in my belly with every stroke of his tongue, every press of his lips.

“Calvin, oh god,” I moan, my fingers fisting in his hair as my hips cant up, seeking more. He obliges, sealing his lips around my clit and sucking gently as he eases two fingers inside me. The dual sensations send me rocketing toward the edge, my thighs beginning to shake.

He works me tirelessly, his fingers curling and stroking as his tongue swirls and flicks, driving me higher and higher until I'm teetering on the brink, my body wound tight as a bowstring.

“That's it, baby,” he murmurs against my slick flesh. “Let go for me as my wife. I've got you.”

The ‘wife’ part is my undoing. With a sharp cry, I shatter, my body convulsing as wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over me. Calvin gentles me through it, easing me down from the peak with soft licks and tender kisses until I'm boneless and sated.

“Mmm. My wife tastes so good,” he murmurs, kissing his way back up my body, taking his time to nuzzle each of my breasts before claiming my mouth in a searing kiss.

“I need you,” I breathe, my hands fumbling with his belt. “Now, Calvin, please.”

“Now, what?”

“Husband. Now, husband. Please.”

“Mmm. That’s better,” he rasps, helping me as together, we remove the last barriers between us until we're skin to skin, his hard length pressing insistently against my thigh. Calvin braces himself over me, the tendons in his shoulders standing out as he holds himself in check.

“I knew the moment I saw you at a game that you were going to be my wife,” he says, brushing the tip of his nose to mine.

I bite the inside of my bottom lip and smile, the mix of arrogance and affection in his words are really getting me going. “Is that so? You figured you could just claim me like that?” I tease, my voice a sultry whisper, getting lost in his warm, honeyed gaze.

His lips curl into that signature smirk, the one that sends my heart into a frenzied dance. “I think the fact you’re wearing my ring on your finger, taking my name as your own and have your legs spread wide, welcoming me home says that yes, I can claim you like that.”

“Touché,” I murmur, my pulse racing not just from desire, but from the thrill of our new life together. He is everything I ever wanted—strong, fierce, and delightfully possessive. It’s intoxicating to be wanted like this, to have the man I can’t get enough of professing how much he desires me too.

“I love you, Olivia,” he says, his voice thick as his cock toys with my entrance. “More than anything in this world.”

Tears prick my eyes at the raw honesty in his gaze. “I love you too, Calvin. Forever.”

And then he's sliding home, filling me, completing me in a way only he can. We move together, our bodies finding that perfect rhythm that's always been effortless between us. It's slow and sweet, a physical manifestation of the vows we made to each other just hours ago. With every roll of his hips, every slide of his skin against mine, he tells me wordlessly just how much I mean to him.

The pleasure builds between us, growing in intensity until we're both panting, clinging to each other as we climb higher and higher. When Calvin slips a hand between us to circle my clit, I cry out, my back arching off the bed.

“Calvin!” I gasp, the sound escaping my lips like a prayer. “I’m so close!”

“Come with me,” he demands, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. “I want to feel you squeezing the fuck out of my cock on our wedding night.”

A few more thrusts, the perfect grind of his pubic bone against me, and I'm flying apart, shattering into a million glittering pieces.

“ Callllllviiiiiiin!”

He follows me over the edge with a hoarse shout of my name, his hips stuttering as he empties himself deep inside me. We collapse together, sweat-slicked and trembling. Calvin gathers me close, pressing soft kisses to my hair, my temple, anywhere he can reach. I burrow into his embrace, sated and content in a way I've only ever felt with him.

“I can't believe you're really mine,” he murmurs, his right hand finding my left. “That this ring means I get to keep you.”

I smile against his chest, loving the way he likes to toy with the rings on my wedding finger. “Believe it, Calvin. I'm yours, in every way that matters. Just like you're mine.”

He tightens his arms around me, and I can feel the steady beat of his heart beneath my cheek. A heart that belongs to me, just as mine belongs to him.

As I drift off to sleep in his arms, I marvel at how perfectly everything worked out. We may not have taken the easy path, but we chose each other. And I’ve no doubt we’ll do just that again and again.

Sometimes the biggest risks lead to the greatest rewards. And Calvin Barrett? He's the best risk I ever took.