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BAG BOY

EPILOGUE

CougarCougarCougarCougarCougarCougarCougarCougar

Even with my back to the door, I knew exactly when he arrived. The air felt different. That crackle of electricity that sparked whenever the two of us were in the same room made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

"I'll take another," I told the bartender.

"Two more stuffed olives with that?" he asked with a wink, and I nodded.

Edward and I hadn't spoken or texted since early this morning when he rolled out of bed to hustle to work. Since teaming up with Emmett eighteen months ago to offer nutrition counseling and personal training under the same roof, Edward's client load had doubled. If you ask him, he'll say he's never been happier. I believe him.

Of course, working his butt off never stops my sweet cub from making time for us. Hence, the succulent arrangement from Nature's Bounty that arrived at noon: a round clay container holding one tiny cactus for each of our four years of marriage, along with a note.

See you at 7:15.
Even year = you first.
Love, E

I felt his approach, and my heart beat a little faster, but I did not turn. Edward's hand wrapped around the chair to my right, bringing his hunter green silicone wedding band into my peripheral view. "May I?" Edward asked.

I turned to meet his gaze. Hot damn, that swimmer's bod knew how to fill out a sport coat. With the gym wear vibe at E & E Wellness, Edward only pulled out the good stuff for special occasions. Nice-fitting gray jeans with a black button-down and a stunning herringbone jacket tailored to his athletic build. It wasn't going to be easy keeping my hands and lips to myself.

Gesturing to the spot I'd guarded savagely for the last half hour, I said, "All yours." Edward's smile answered that he was all mine, too.

The bartender served my drink as Edward settled in beside me and ordered an old-fashioned.

"You made it in time for happy hour," I said. If Edward had one bad habit, it was his tendency to drive way too fast—especially when he was driving towards me.

Feigning a surprise neither of us believed, Edward punched his left fist forward to expose the Breitling watch I gave him on his thirtieth birthday two months earlier. "So I did. The ol' Roadster made good time tonight."

"Roadster, huh?"

"Yep." He grinned. "It's a classic. Got it five years ago as a graduation gift from my girlfriend at the time. Cute little orange number—the car, not my girlfriend."

I resisted my urge to smirk. "Your girlfriend 'at the time'? You break up with her?"

"I married her." He barked out a laugh, shaking his head like he still couldn't believe it. "Four years today."

"Well happy anniversary to you." I raised my glass.

"Thank you very much." As if the bartender were part of our dance, Edward's drink arrived right then, and he clinked it with mine. "How about you? That looks like it might be a wedding ring on your finger?"

I'd chosen a simple, solid 24-karat gold band to go with the emerald engagement ring Edward had given me in keeping with our green rubber band theme. I still had that dirty, old rubber band Edward had slid onto my wrist right before I met his folks. Edward had his, too, tucked away in his sock drawer.

"Oh yeah, I'm good and taken." I sipped my drink, then slid one of the olives from the plastic spear with my tongue. "So, Mr. Roadster, do you and your wife always celebrate your big day separately?"

He swiveled on his stool, rested his arm along the back of the chair, and locked his gaze on mine. Those eyes would never not make me want to jump him. "Actually, we do," he said, leaning in close to my ear. "Truth is, my wife is kinky as shit."

I bit down hard on my lip to keep from laughing. Edward gets better every year, no matter which side he's playing. "Do tell."

He pulled away, studying me. "You seem like a real classy lady. I don't think I should . . . nah." Edward swirled his drink against the bar, took a sip, then slid his tongue across his wet lips. What an evil cub he could be.

"Classy, huh? What gave me away, the fishnet stockings or the leather mini-skirt?"

His breathing shallowed for the few seconds it took him to full-on stare below the bar. When his eyes met mine again, he'd composed himself. "Actually, it was your perfume."

Classy indeed. I was wearing the J'adore he'd bought me for my most recent birthday.

"That only proves my husband's a class act. Me?" I huffed. "You might be surprised." I tipped back half the contents of my drink to prove the point.

"All right, then. I'll tell you," he said after some deep thought, "but don't say I didn't warn you. My wife likes me to come here, by myself, and scout out the most beautiful woman in the place."

My hand flew to the silk blouse conservatively covering my leather corset. "Moi?"

"Oh, easily." He picked out a cashew from the bowl in front of me and tossed it into his mouth.

"Well, how lucky am I?"

He answered my question with a chuckle. "I guess that remains to be seen."

"And what are you and this woman supposed to do?"

He leaned toward me, not making eye contact this time. "Whatever she wants—the woman, that is, not my wife."

"So ideally, your wife would want you to find a woman who likes to take charge?"

Edward's gaze slipped down to where the spiky heel of my black leather boot hovered mere inches from his ankle. By now, he knew exactly what I was wearing under my frilly blouse. His Adam's apple bobbed hard before he answered. "I think that's fair to say."

I leered long enough to make Edward squirm in his seat a bit. Old habits die hard. "I don't suppose you've ever been turned down?"

A smile edged up his cheek, and it took him two dips into the nut dish to get it under control. "Not yet," he said finally. "I guess there's always a first time." Not likely, cub.

"I hope not. For the sake of your marriage."

"Just to be clear, that wasn't you turning me down just now, was it?"

I laughed at all the layers of ridiculousness tied up in his question. "I wouldn't dare," I replied. "This wife of yours sounds like a force to be reckoned with."

He agreed with a serious nod. "Definitely. She says, 'Jump,' and I say, 'Which star would you like me to bring back for you, dear?'" That sounded about right.

I finished off the second olive and dropped the spear into the glass holding my check and the two previous spears. "I have a strong feeling you've never disappointed her."

A sadness came over him, and I feared I might have accidentally dumped a bucket of cold water on our hot moment. I knew exactly where his thoughts had gone, and there was no need to go there today of all days. I started to reach my hand to his—this silly game wasn't worth a moment of his melancholy—when he snapped his frown into a smile.

"I'm sorry, I seem to be eating all your nuts." Edward gestured toward the discarded spears. "Was that your dinner, or can I take you somewhere for a real meal?"

"That was just the appetizer," I said. "Actually, I was planning on a room service dinner a little later."

He nodded. "I hear they have good burgers here."

"I wouldn't know. I don't eat red meat."

He chuckled at that. "As a professional nutrition coach, I applaud your choice."

"Hmm, I don't know about you," I teased him. "A professional nutrition coach who pounds bourbon and burgers?"

He patted his belly, drawing my eye to his tiny waist. "It's all about balance. I don't often indulge, but sometimes, you just have to go for it, y'know? And being a special occasion and all . . ." He trailed off. "So what kind of work do you do?"

Aside from all your marketing? "Hmm, should I make you guess?"

Smiling, he popped in another few nuts. "A lady who likes games, eh? My wife would definitely approve of this year's choice."

I huffed. "You're stalling."

At that, he turned to face me, full-on, and folded his hands in front of his chest. "Yoga instructor."

"Nope, but thanks."

"Masseuse." A private smile came with that guess. Still one of our favorite activities in the home gym.

"Not for money," I replied.

"Hmm." He tipped his head. "Interior design."

"Nope."

"Mortgage banking."

I burst out laughing. "Hell no."

"MMA fighter?"

"Sorry, I only tangle with men."

His eyes popped wide. "You're a dance instructor?"

"Tan-gle, not tan-go!"

"Okay, hmm." He concentrated so hard on our twenty questions, I believed he might come up with a better answer than the truth. "Construction. Steel beams. Specialty—skyscrapers. I don't see you being afraid of heights."

"I'm not, generally, but that sounds a bit terrifying."

"Totally!" He gave me one of those grins that reminded me how willingly he's always displayed his vulnerabilities.

My self-control was running out. "Would you like a hint?"

"Yes! Please!" Aw, was my cub getting a bit impatient too?

"Okay. Instagram, Twitter, Facebook."

He unclasped his hands to jab a finger toward me. "Aha! You're one of those supermodel social influencers!" Just like Edward to find a way to squeeze a compliment out of every opportunity.

"Not me. I'm just the one who puts out the content for my clients. I count on them to provide the inspiration. For example, I work for these two adorable guys who run a wellness center. One of them is a bodybuilder, a born poster boy. The guy's dimples have dimples."

All true, even if I was yanking Edward's chain a wee bit. His best friend Emmett was beyond adorable, and he'd come into Rosalie's life at just the right moment. It had been lust at first sight for those two. Alice had married her dating app cowboy Jasper six months after meeting him and given birth to triplets one year later. Emmett and Rose were still hotter and heavier than ever, but both claimed to be uninterested in "settling down." We all played along and pretended they weren't as married as the rest of us.

"So this dimple guy is the one you feature in their social media?"

"Oh, the other guy is no slouch, believe me." Edward huffed at that, and I crooked my finger in a c'mere gesture that brought Edward's elbow next to mine on the bar. "If I'm honest, I have a terrible crush on his partner."

Edward couldn't hold back his grin this time. "Does your husband know about this crush?"

"My husband knows everything." Even play-acting Edward acknowledged my loyalty to my husband with an appreciative nod.

"So you're going to tell him about us?"

"In graphic detail," I said, "assuming there will be something more juicy to tell him about than suggestive conversation over mixed nuts?"

Edward got right to his feet, kicking his stool away as he reached for his wallet. "Since you won't let me buy you dinner, please let me at least buy your drink, er, drinks." He corrected himself with a smirk.

"The check's all set; so's yours. Happy anniversary."

"You sure?" he asked, fingers poised on the Amex card we shared.

"You're not going to question everything I say, now, are you? I don't think your wife would be any too happy about that."

He eased his wallet back into his pocket. "No, uh . . . sorry, I never caught your name. I'm Edward," he said, offering his hand.

I held his hand in mine for a beat longer than would have been comfortable. "'Mistress' will do fine."

Edward's eyes nearly popped out of his head. We'd always gone upstairs as Edward and Bella, even though the power balance skewed heavily toward one of us.

Releasing him, I looped my handbag chain over my shoulder. "Shall we go upstairs, Edward, and find out if that burger lives up to its reputation?"

Bagboybagboybagboybagboybagboybagboybagboybagboy

Not gonna lie, my nerves were jangling in that elevator. We'd waited for the lobby to clear so we would have the elevator to ourselves. Bella had stepped in ahead of me and issued her first order—"Hit fifteen"—getting a jump on bossing me around even before the mirrored doors had closed.

It was chilling how quickly the cougar could reappear and reset everything between us. A big ol' reboot, right back to our beginning, to my bag boy days when I never knew what kind of sexual fuckery Bella would throw at me next. All I knew was that I wouldn't disappoint her for the world.

That lump reappeared in my throat. I had disappointed Bella in the worst imaginable way. Today wasn't just our wedding anniversary; today marked the end of a year of officially trying—and failing—to get pregnant. Bella was ovulating like a champ at forty-four, and I seemed to be the one holding us back. All that chlorine in my "formative years" had most likely made my sperm lousy swimmers. The irony did not ease the pain.

Bella's reflection caught my gaze in the elevator door. She placed her hand at the back of my neck. "Eyes down, cub." Her thumb slid back and forth across my neck, grounding me in this moment with her. She knew where I'd gone and what I needed. "I'll do the thinking, and you'll do the obeying. Got it?"

I answered with a shaky, "Yes, mistress." The word sent a shiver rippling down my spine.

"That's a good cub."

The doors slid open.

"Walk," she commanded, guiding me with that hand at my neck to the door at the end of the hallway.

On our second wedding anniversary, Bella's first time as "the boss" for our annual Hollywood Roosevelt role-play, Bella had upgraded our accommodations to the honeymoon suite. I didn't argue then, and I wasn't about to argue now as she turned on the lights and ordered me to the middle of the large living room area.

Bella had barely moved from the door. She stood with her back pressed to the wall, one spectacular leg bent with the heel of her boot to the wall. Her short leather skirt hiked way up her thighs and as usual, she'd foregone underwear.

"Take off your clothes," she commanded.

I glanced outside as I set my folded sport coat over the couch. The sun had officially set and our brightly lit room was floor-to-ceiling windows. The curtains were wide open. Anyone bothering to look inside would be able to see everything.

"Let me hear your safe word," she said.

Bella had never come close to pushing my sexual limits, and I didn't think she would, but we both appreciated that the safe words were there for a reason—that reason being, I would jump through fiery hoops for my Bella, and she needed to know I would hit the pause button if it ever got to be too much.

I answered, "Mushroom," and started unbuttoning my shirt. My distaste for mushrooms was not as philosophical as Bella's aversion to veal chops, but it was no less powerful.

She nodded, studying me with a skillful eye as she always did, keeping me right on the edge while also keeping me safe. I tossed my shirt over the sport coat, then worked open my belt, remembering that first time I'd stripped, one piece at a time, for answers about who she was. Just scraping the surface.

Down went my zipper, and I kicked off my loafers along with my jeans. She didn't stop me when I reached for my black boxer briefs, so I pushed those down too. I was naked . . . and very eager to please, as she and the peepers in any of the nearby buildings could plainly see.

"Turn and face the windows," she said. "Hands clasped behind your back."

I spun and faced the city, crossing my hands at my lower back as she'd ordered. A zip tie closed around my wrists before I ever felt her coming, and I drew in a sharp gasp. Her hand on my shoulder steadied me. "Easy, cub. Walk toward the windows."

I did as she ordered, more than a little unsteady on my feet. She didn't stop me until my dick was up against the glass.

"Good boy. Now, take two steps back so we don't have any accidents, and let's cover you up so all those gawkers won't know whose hot bod they're gawking at." A pink scarf, the one she'd been wearing around her neck downstairs, closed over my eyes. She tied it firmly around my head. "Breathe."

I felt the rustle of fabric behind me. Her blouse, then her skirt tossed to the floor at my feet, where I'd be sure to see them. We were only the faintest reflection in the glass, and she was well hidden behind me, but I could feel her moving against my skin. The buttery soft leather of her corset brushing along my back, her bare pelvis grinding into my ass. I might have fallen forward if she hadn't closed her arms around my shoulders and held me tight against her body.

Her palms skated down my chest, past my abs, through the freshly trimmed patch of hair before taking hold of her prize. I hissed when her hands closed around me. My head fell back onto her shoulder, and a whimper escaped me as a drizzle of oil met my shaft and she tightened her grip. She started a slow, teasing slide of her hand as she rocked forward with her hips, rubbing her mound against my bound hands.

Her lips tickled my earlobe as she laid out the rules in warm, breathy whispers. "I'm going to touch you, and you're going to touch me. Feel that?"

I answered with a groan as her slick opening settled over my fingertips. "Yes, mistress."

"This is a race to the finish . . . and we both want me to win. Get it?" No sooner had she warned me against coming first than she started stroking me in a relentless rhythm that nearly made me lose it right then and there.

"Focus on your mistress, cub." She helped me out by humping my fingers, but she didn't let up any on my helpless dick. Just like Bella to make me work for it.

And work for it, I did. With my hands clasped on top of each other at the small of my back, I had very little mobility and an even worse angle, but I listened carefully to all of Bella's cues and focused all my mental energy that wasn't totally wrapped up in my own, er, situation.

She let loose with the filthy talk she knew I couldn't resist, describing in excruciating detail the people watching from the building across the way, standing in their darkened windows with the curtains peeled back, witnessing my rutting like a wild animal into her hand. She tortured me with graphic descriptions of the many ways she planned to punish me if I came first . . . which I was getting damn close to doing.

And that leather! The friction against my back was making me dizzy, not to mention her juices all over my fingers and her tongue in my ear.

"I'm close . . ." she mewled. It could have been a trick, but it didn't sound like one. I was losing my damn mind!

The tension was unbearable.

Her rhythm turned erratic, and her breathy wail rang in my ears as her muscles clenched around my fingers with her orgasm. There was no doubt this time. I loosened the reins on the little bit of restraint I had left. Bella grasped me tight around the belly to keep me from smashing through the glass, and I let it fly all over that poor window.

I pictured the scene from outside, a thick stream splattering against the window as my body shook with pleasure and relief. Heaving to catch my breath, I tipped my head forward to rest against the window.

The zip tie was cut, the blindfold torn away. Bella spun me around and kissed me hard. When she pulled back, I could see that her eyes were glazed over with bliss, and I was quite sure mine looked the same.

"You tell your wife you did her proud."

"Yes, mistress," I said with a big grin. "Will do."

I took in her outfit, or what was left of it. The sexy black leather corset that she knows I love, thigh-high fishnets disappearing into knee-length leather boots below, and nothing but milky smooth skin in between. Jesus.

"You know you get sexier every year," I told her.

She laughed. "Look who's talking."

A knock at the door interrupted a slower, gentler kiss. "Room service!"

"How'd they—?"

Bella giggled. "Do I know you, or what?"

I yelled, "Just leave it by the door, please, and give yourself an extra twenty!"

"Thank you, sir," came the muffled voice through the door.

Bella had already disappeared into the bathroom and returned wearing one of the hotel robes, tossing the other one at me. "Just to be clear, this doesn't mean I'm done with you."

"Sweetheart, you can do whatever you want to me after I eat." Robe fastened, I retrieved the cart from the hallway and wheeled our dinner over to the couch. "Oh my god, that burger smells like heaven right now."

She cocked an eyebrow. "Are you not going to wash your hands?"

I grinned, remembering where they'd been. "Only because it would gross you out if I didn't."

When I came back from washing up, Bella had the curtains closed, the lights dimmed to an appropriate level, and our meals set out on the glass coffee table. I slipped between the table and the couch on the floor next to Bella and extended my legs under the table. Sitting in front of my plate was a rectangular package wrapped in shiny white paper and tied off with a bright yellow bow.

"Well, well, well." I picked up the gift and made a very lame attempt at figuring out what was inside. Bella shopped in stores I'd never set foot in. Her gifts were always wildly extravagant, and it gave her great pleasure when I received them graciously—and even more pleasure when I enjoyed wearing them. Case in point, the Breitling watch that was the only article of clothing that had survived my little striptease earlier. "Whatever might this be?"

Bella chuckled, ignoring me as she dug into her salad. "Eat your dinner first. I know better than to come between you and your food."

I tucked happily into the best burger in L.A. I was able to convince Bella to share my fries, but she shrugged off my attempts to feed her a bite of burger. We played footsies under the glass table. This whole life still felt like an amazing dream.

I might have rushed through the meal to get to the gift. With one eye on Bella, I untied the ribbon and plucked open the tape. Her expression softened as I got closer to the secret hidden inside. Peeling back the paper, I uncovered a box. Breitling.

"Bella?" I lifted my gaze and found her teary. "You got me another watch?"

She reached out on a sudden impulse, cupped my cheeks, and pulled me in for a kiss. "I love you so much, Edward. I can't wait to share this with you."

"I love you too." But her excitement over another watch was definitely puzzling.

I set the box on the table and hinged open the cover. Inside was no watch.

"Bella! Is this . . .?" I reached in and pulled out the pregnancy test with a big blue plus sign. "Are we . . .? You're . . .?"

Tears poured down my cheeks while Bella was in the middle of her own little rainstorm. I threw my arms around her. A baby!

"We did it, Bella!"

"We sure did, baby."

I pulled back and checked her out from head to belly as if I'd actually see something. "How do you feel? Are you having any morning sickness? How long have you known? What's the due date? Who have you told?"

"Whoa!" Bella's hands clamped down on my shoulders. "Slow down! I feel great. I only took the test this morning. I'm pretty sure I'm three weeks along—remember that night we went out with Emmett and Rose, and afterwards we—"

"Oh god. Yes, yes, I remember." I busted out laughing. We'd tumbled inside from the garage, pawing at each other like two horny teenagers. We tore off each other's clothes right there in the kitchen, and Bella tackled me to the tile floor and apparently cowgirled this baby outta me.

"Yep, so that puts the due date around mid-May."

"May. Wow. I'm gonna be a daddy in May."

Bella chuckled. "Newsflash: You're already a daddy."

"Right, right. Sorry, I'm excited!" I flopped back against the couch with a heavy sigh. "You know, I've been blaming myself for not getting us pregnant."

She curled up next to me and pushed her fingers through my hair. "I know you have. But now you know you were dead wrong."

"I can't believe you've known all day, and you're just telling me now!"

She leaned over to drop a kiss on my forehead. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to take any sexual energy away from our game."

"That's ridiculous!"

"Is it?" She gave me the arched brow, and I already knew I'd lost. "Tell me you're not looking at me differently right now."

"Okay, fine . . . but you're still the hottest woman I've ever seen. And completely intimidating even if I can't stop thinking about our little person growing in your belly."

She laughed. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"Which it was."

Bella's beautiful smile came out as she regarded me again with watery eyes. "I wouldn't have been able to keep it from you much longer, especially knowing how you've been hurting."

I remembered how she'd read my upset earlier and steered me past it. I closed my eyes and leaned into Bella's fingers, carding through my hair as if pulling the ghost of all that pain right out of me. No more anguish about hours spent in the pool or too much partying or a dozen other activities I'd been questioning for months.

"Now I'm sorry I didn't pack my bathing suit for tomorrow." I hadn't swum for weeks; how could I? Every lap was a dare to the fertility gods, and they held all the cards.

"It's in my bag," she replied, winking when my eyes popped open.

"You do think of everything."

"You know how I love watching you swim," she said.

"Imagine the view if you were actually in the pool with me."

"We'll see how much energy I have in the morning. I'm not sure I'm going to want to waste any time sleeping when I could be ordering you around all night!"

I crooked my elbow and propped up my head, and Bella's hand fell away. "Bella, you need your sleep. You've got to take care of yourself. Oh my god! Wait! You had three martinis at the bar!"

A twinkle appeared in Bella's eye. "Three very dirty club soda martinis."

"That's why you didn't want me to see the bill!"

That earned me a pat on the cheek. "Such a smart cub you are."

Smarts or no smarts, Bella was always ten steps ahead of me. "Hey, have you thought about who you want for an OB? I'm sure my dad could recommend someone." I bolted up as if struck by lightning, my back straight against the couch. "My parents are gonna be grandparents! Mom's gonna be over the moon!"

Bella grabbed my robe by the lapels. "Listen, you. I'm, like, one minute pregnant here. We can't start telling people yet. It's bad luck. Plus, think about it, Edward. What if something happens? You don't want to break your mother's heart, do you?"

There was a look on Bella's face I didn't see often, but I would have known it anywhere: fear.

I pushed the table away and gathered Bella into my lap. "You listen to me, Bella Cullen. I will respect your wishes, but I promise I am not going to let anything bad happen to our baby." I bent to drop a kiss on her belly, but there were too many layers of terrycloth to burrow past. "I need to take you to bed so I can properly express my gratitude."

Bella rolled her eyes and let out a loud, long-suffering sigh. "So much for my bagful of whips and chains."

I studied her expression, but it was impossible to tell if she was joking or not. "If you must, you can boss me around again in the morning, mistress, but right now, I need to be alone with my wife and our baby."

CougarCougarCougarCougarCougarCougarCougarCougar

A tickle at my belly woke me from a very strange dream about flying letters and coconut trees. Was the baby bladder starting already? But no, there were whispers . . .

"The whole alphabet up the-
Oh no!
Chicka chicka
BOOM! BOOM!"

I forced open my eyes and pushed back the covers only to discover a familiar mop of hair sitting on my midsection. My sweet cub had tunneled completely under the covers where he was whispering softly but dramatically to my belly:

"Skit skat skoodle doot
Flip flop flee!
Everybody running to the coconut tree!"

My heart. Edward didn't pause his story when my fingers met his nape, even when goose bumps broke out over his skin.

I'd had the sensation a thousand different times in as many different ways since we'd met—Edward will be an amazing father—and here he was, exceeding my highest expectations once again.

"I'll beat you to the top of the coconut tree.
Chicka chicka BOOM! BOOM!"

He feathered a kiss to my stomach. "I love you, baby Bella, but I think we woke up Mommy." Wriggling out from the covers, Edward crawled up my body, trailing kisses and caresses all the way to my lips.

"Baby Bella, huh? You think it's a girl?"

He grinned. "I just have this sense I'm always going to be outnumbered." He dropped a kiss on the tip of my nose. "And I cannot wait." He rolled slightly so his weight was mostly on the bed beside me, leaving one leg and one arm flung possessively across my body.

"That's funny," I said. "I've been picturing a mini-cub, a cute little boy with brilliant green eyes and a crooked little smile and a mop of bushy, copper hair."

Edward chuckled, shaking his head. "Sounds dangerous."

Like you wouldn't believe. "What was that poem you were reciting?"

"Oh. Chicka Chicka Boom Boom. It was my favorite book. My poor mom had to read it to me twenty times a day until I finally memorized it. There's a musical version she played in the car whenever I got fidgety. It's the best."

"I've always been partial to If You Give a Mouse a Cookie."

His grin spread, etching a line against my cheek where we were joined. "That's a classic."

"You do know, you're the mouse in the story, right?"

He tipped his head to meet my gaze. "I guess that makes you the cookie."

"You remember what happened to that little mouse? Every time he got something, he wanted more."

Edward chuckled, his warm breath spilling onto my shoulder. "Sounds about right. You bring me a PB&J in a parking lot, and I want to put my fingers where yours went. You give me a girl in a towel; I want a girl out of a towel."

I giggled. "You're catching on."

"You make me strip and jerk myself off . . . oh boy, did the mouse want after that!"

"Which was why I had to take all the cookies away."

"That was so mean."

"I know."

He laughed. "The polite response there would be, 'I'm sorry.'"

"I'm not polite or sorry." I gave him a playful shove onto his back. "You were the wanting-est mouse alive."

"Hell yeah, I was. And after that, when you gave this mouse all the cookies I could eat, in every conceivable position, do you remember what this little mouse wanted then?"

I sure did, but I needed him to say it. "What's that?"

"Your heart."

I rolled on top of his body, leaving my hair to fall on either side of his head. "Right. The hardest of all the cookies to give away."

Reaching up to cup my chin, he gave me one of his irresistible smiles. "Which is why it tasted the sweetest."

"So now that you've got my heart, are you all done wanting, little mouse?"

"Never," he answered in the most gentle tone yet. "Don't you know how that book ends, Bella? The mouse asks for a glass of milk, and then he wants a cookie to go with it. Full circle. He never stops wanting that cookie with all his heart and soul."

"Heart and soul, huh? What about this part?" I rubbed my thigh between his legs to find him ready, willing, and oh-so-able.

He laughed, shaking his chest beneath mine. "I don't think that part made it into the children's book."

"I think we should go for the adult version, don't you?"

"Oh, absolutely." Edward gripped my hips and settled me on top of his lap. "If you give a cub a cougar . . ."

::THE END::

Author's Note: "And so the cougar fell in love with the cub," and they lived Happily Ever After.

I want to sincerely thank all you (crazy) readers who stuck with me on this one even though I told you right from the start that I had no plans to finish telling it! Thank you for all the reviews along the way; your feedback most definitely keeps me coming back to write fanfiction!

MASSIVE thank you to my Chayasara for all her usual razzle-dazzle behind the scenes, providing not only "writing craft-type" support but her customary, loving encouragement. Any mistakes in here are due to my own stubbornness or last-minute tweaking and are no reflection on my beta! Thank you also to Shell Taylor (shellshock81) for pre-reading the first chapter as a contest piece and helping me shape it into a one shot. The two wonderful children's books referenced in this story are Chicka Chicka Boom Boom by Bill Martin, Jr. and John Archambault, and If You Give a Mouse a Cookie by Laura Numeroff.

I hope it's not long before we can all get back to the grocery store and the good ol' days of bag boy ogling! Meanwhile, we'll just keep escaping into the world of these characters we all know and love. Stay well, stay safe, keep in touch!
XXX ~BOH