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Epilogue
Jill stared at her reflection in the mirror and grinned. “Hello there, Mrs. Townsend.”
She’d done it. After accepting Bryan’s formal proposal three months ago, she’d married him in front of all their family and friends, one year to the day that they’d encountered each other on the night of Cory’s bachelor party. And soon, she’d get to enjoy her wedding night. She couldn’t wait.
Any minute now he would enter the suite and strip out of his sexy-as-hell tux. Since he’d started working with Dillon on the Helping Hands houses, he’d gotten even more buff. She wasn’t sure how that was possible. His knee had healed up almost as good as new, and he seemed to really enjoy the kind of physical work he did with Dillon. Plus, his increasingly ripped body made a mighty fine distraction when she needed a respite from studying for her Vet-Tech coursework.
She didn’t have much time to study, what with work and helping to babysit Vic and Cory’s adorable daughter, Tatiana, whenever she could.
Bryan, Vic, and Melly had a relationship with both of their parents now, albeit strained at times, and Jill was glad to have a chance to get to know the Townsends better, too. The pair of thriving kittens—now cats—that they’d adopted, and Bryan’s dog Bingo took up any other spare moments she had, filling up her house with enjoyment and noise.
This was her life, and she loved every chaotic minute of it.
She turned away from the mirror as the door to the hotel suite opened. She’d had to rush to get there ahead of Bryan, but it was all worth it when she saw the way his jaw dropped at the sight of her in her frilly white slip and veil.
“Sit on the bed,” she murmured. “Get nice and comfy.”
“I’m not going to be comfy for a long time.” He reached down to blatantly adjust himself in his pants. He killed the hell out of a tux. “And I’m damn sure not going to be nice on my wedding night.”
A grin slipped free before she forced her features into serious lines. “Wedding night? Would your wife do this?” She hit play on the sound system, and “Shoop” emanated from the speakers. Then she lifted her arms above her head and started to dance, slow and sensuously.
The old her from that strip club last year might have wondered if her strip tease was actually sensual, but judging from his rapid intake of breath, she was pretty sure her transformation into full blown seductress was complete.
“Holy Christ,” he said.
“Shh, Mr. Townsend. We keep it clean here.” She hiked up her slip and revealed the new lacy garter she’d slipped on just before he arrived. His groan wound thick waves of arousal through her belly, and she used them as fuel to stave off the embarrassment that tried to stop her in her tracks.
Tonight, she would give him this gift—and herself.
Swiveling her hips in time with the music, she teased her breasts with her fingers, bringing the nipples to hard points while she walked across the room to him. With every step, his jaw locked more.
His ass hit the bed a moment before she stepped between his spread knees. She planted her hand in the center of his chest and pushed him back on the mattress, straddling him with surprising efficiency. It wasn’t hard to keep her hips moving, because her husband was freaking hot.
When his stiff length nestled in the warm vee of her thighs, she forgot her routine long enough to grin at the size of his erection. Damn, she’d actually pulled this off. Spectacularly.
Her grin spread at his growl as she plucked at her nipples and gyrated shamelessly on top of him. Now she would get her reward. And it was a big one, too.
Just as she lowered her mouth to his, he gripped her shoulder, his eyes going wide. “Fuck. No. Wait.”
Rocking her pelvis over his shaft ripped another groan from his throat. “No waiting. We haven’t had sex in three weeks, thanks to your wanting to wait for the wedding. Do you have any idea how wet my pussy is for you?”
“Fuck.” His glazed expression made the practicing she’d had to do to say that word to him all worth it. He shook his head and shut his eyes. “No, baby, let me show you something first. I promised myself I’d give it to you tonight. Two minutes.”
With a dramatic sigh, she flung herself onto the bed. “It better be good.”
“It is.” He adjusted himself one more time and lunged to his feet to retrieve his wallet from the nightstand. “I better get the damn husband of the year award for this one.”
Before she could question him, he thrust a folded paper into her hand. “Read that.”
She unfolded the page and read the letter in slow, dawning shock. By the last line, her eyes were wet.
Dearest Bryan,
I’ve treasured your friendship these past few years. Bringing up kids is hard. It takes molding raw material into a rough shape, and from there, the child does with it what they wish. You have better raw material than most. One day I hope you’ll realize how much good is in you, as I always have.
My girl has wonderful raw material, too. I’ve seen you looking at her. Maybe someday you’ll settle in for a longer look. Perhaps she’ll even look back.
All my love,
