Epilogue

EPILOGUE

Bianca

Five Years Later

Ilean a hip on the doorframe of our bedroom, coffee cup cradled in my hands.

“Happy birthday, gorgeous,” I murmur to my incredible husband, who is sprawled out face down in bed, nary a sheet to keep him modest. “Those buns only get better with age.” Without opening his eyes, he flexes them and I almost spit out my sip of coffee on a laugh. “Wow. I could charge admission for this.”

“Why isn’t my stunning wife in bed beneath me on my birthday?”

Feigning confusion, I tap my chin. “I don’t know, but I think it has something to do with the two children we live with.”

“Oh yeah.”

“Uh-huh.”

A grin pulls wide on his face. “Anyway, I got my present last night.”

“Twice.”

“I don’t suppose I could convince you to lock the door and come give me a third.” He groans low in his throat while looking me over head to toe. “And a fourth. Maybe a fifth?”

Having mercy on him, I close the door and saunter toward the bed.

He brightens immediately, rolling over and letting me see exactly how eager he is to greet me good morning. My sex grows moist and ready in response, the sight of my farmer in the nude never failing to make me short of breath. My heart is a victim here, too, however, turning over and over like a thorny tumbleweed in my chest.

I never know how and when the love I have for Dusty is going to hit me hard. Sometimes, when I least expect it, I get overwhelmed by how taking the highway that night five years ago could have cost me the love of my life. My husband. My best friend.

Dusty brought me back to the farm the same day as the casting director disaster. We packed my things and got the heck out of the city. I never looked back. I don’t miss it. For so long, I thought acting was the only future for me, but it wasn’t. It was the dream of a child that I never let go of…but it’s the dream of the woman to be a farmer.

That’s what I am now.

We run this place together.

And I was right, it’s magical. Every second, every minute, every day with my husband and our children is woven from fairy dust.

Now, Dusty tries to drag me beneath his big, capable body, but I stop him right before he can rip off the night shirt I’m wearing. “My mother is on her way.”

A man has never gone from excited to crestfallen so quickly. “What?”

“To take the kids for a sleepover,” I whisper against his mouth, my fingers walking up the middle of his huge chest. “You get me all to yourself until tomorrow.”

“This is what true happiness feels like,” he breathes.

A giggle passes my lips and my husband loves that sound, as he’s told me a million times, so he tickles me, trying to prolong the laughter, growling kisses to my neck as he goes. Our sons must hear the fuss from their spots at the kitchen table because the bedroom door bursts open and they come running with grubby smiles on their faces, launching themselves into the bed onto Dusty’s back. He makes a frustrated sound against my mouth, before quickly covering himself with a sheet—and then right before my eyes, he transforms into super dad.

With a sheet wrapped around his hips, he takes turns holding our boys above his head and making airplane sounds, making them laugh uncontrollably. It’s amazing that one of them is a blond with green eyes like me and the other is the spitting image of his dad, size included. But they have one thing in common: they’re both loved. Fiercely.

An hour later, I’ve managed to pack bags for the kids. My mother arrives on time, visibly thrilled to be hosting her grandbabies for the night. That’s nice. That’s what matters most to me now—my family. Our relationship is still strained on occasion, but I find it hard to be upset about anything these days, so most of the time I let her passive aggression roll off my shoulders.

I kiss our sons goodbye and watch them pull onto the same dirt road where I met Dusty all those years ago, a smile playing around the edges of my mouth. He went out to hurry through his chores, so we could spend the day together. But I have a few chores to take care of myself first, too. When Dusty brought me back to the farm, he suggested I find something I love to do. Something that could become my job. That’s when I started experimenting with growing vegetables. Now? An entire portion of the farm is dedicated to my thriving vegetable growing business. I’ve added an income to the household and found something I’m passionate about.

I was born to be a farmer.

Who knew?

Instead of heading to the garden today in jeans and a tank top, as usual, I decide to have a little fun. It is my husband’s birthday after all. A little while later, I’m on my hands and knees in the garden, when I hear his footsteps approaching from behind me. I smile mischievously when I hear his quick hiss of breath. The groaning curse that follows.

“Are my eyes deceiving me, darlin’,” asks my husband in a gravelly tone. “Or are you gardening in a bikini?”

“You remember this one, right?” I wiggle my butt at him. “From our trip to Florida?”

“You think I could forget that teeny tiny thing?” I hear him jump over the wooden rail. “I couldn’t keep my hands off you—and we were at a family resort.”

“Oh, that’s why they asked us to never come back.”

“There are plenty of resorts in Florida.” He plants his knees behind me in the dirt. “But there’s only one of you, Bianca.” He plants gentle bites on each side of my bottom, then tugs my thong to one side, his tongue riding roughly over my rear entrance. Again and again and again. “Mmmm,” he says, breathing hard, his zipper lowering with a metal zing. “Speaking of an ass that gets better with age, this one gets tastier every time I lick it.” His hands slides between my thighs from behind, cupping and massaging my sex through my bikini bottoms. “To say nothing of this tight work of art. God almighty, my wife is hot. Have I mentioned that lately?”

Smiling, I bite my lip. “Every single day.”

“Hell if it isn’t true.” He gives me butt a firm slap, immediately rubbing away the sting. “Tilt those hips. Let me see your pussy in the country sunlight.” I do as I’m told, because…well…I don’t mind being obedient in bed to a man who respects me, reveres me and lives to make me happy—and succeeds. “You look damn good like this, darlin’. Ready to be fucked with your knees in the soil of our farm. This place we build together every day, nothing but blue skies stretched out in front of you. Lord in heaven, I am a lucky man.”

He thrusts home, deep, deep inside of me and my fingers sink into the earth, my broken cry carrying over our property. “I’m so lucky, too, Dusty,” I gasp. “I can’t imagine my life without you. Without us.”

“Good thing you don’t have to, wife. You’ll never have to,” he rasps in my ear, his hands sliding up beneath the triangles of my bikini top, caressing my breasts, using his thumbs to pebble my nipples. “This love isn’t going anywhere, Bianca. It’s staying right here with us.”

Tears spring to my eyes. “I love you. I love you.”

“My God, I love you, too.” He draws my hips up and starts to buck faster, releasing a guttural grunt into my neck. “Now. Show me how much you’ve been aching for Daddy.”

THE END

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