A/N: It's been more than 5 years in the making, but here's the epilogue. This first part is the fluff. The rest will post in a 2nd part. If you're confused about what's going on, be patient, or go back to the last chapter and review. There is a ten-year time gap between the two.

PLEASE NOTE: I kinda broke my own rule on this one, so mature content warning is in effect! (Very very in effect.)


Epilogue:

"Excuse me, Mr. Collins?"

"Yeah?"

I glance up from the file in front of me. One of the new summer interns who started with us this morning is leaning around the corner, looking nervous.

"Sorry to disturb you, sir, but you have a visitor."

My brow wrinkles involuntarily. "Who is it?"

The girl makes an apologetic face. "There's a woman in the lobby who says she's here to see you. When I asked her for her name, she said to tell you that if she told you, then she'd have to kill you?" She shifts uncomfortably. "Her words, not mine."

I grin and feel a familiar leap in my heart. "Thank you . . . um . . ."

"Maggie."

"Thank you, Maggie. Tell my wife I'll be right out. I just need a moment."

"Your wife?" she says, her face breaking into a relieved smile. "Oh, thank God. I was worried she was a lunatic."

I shake my head, chuckling. "No, not usually. It's just an inside joke."

Maggie nods and then turns to go. "Oh wait, what is her name? For future reference."

"Leia," I answer, smiling in a way only my beautiful wife could possibly understand. "Her name is Leia."

Maggie smiles back. "That's pretty. I'll uh . . . I'll just tell her that you're on your way."

"Thanks."

As soon as she's gone I look back to my work and quickly evaluate how best to wrap things up. Knowing that my girl is waiting for me makes me wish, not for the first time, that I'd never taken on my latest client. Then I remind myself that I have a family to support, and a major anniversary coming up soon as well.

Ten years. Ten whole years of ups and downs, of laughter and tears, of love and hate, and every emotion in between. There have been labor pains of all kinds, and growth that was sometimes scarier than it was miraculous.

The past year has been one of the scarier ones. Leaving my full-time teaching job to take over daily operations of the independent production company I started as a hobby four years ago, turned me into a nervous wreck. I never intended to make a career change, let alone one that could potentially garner my family any kind of attention. It just sort of happened. All I can do now is hope that our new client will like the latest version of the jingle I wrote for their upcoming national ad campaign.

I laugh with little humor as I flip through their project proposal. It's the fifth draft and already has multiple revisions on it. The company wants something memorable, but not campy. Something catchy, but not mainstream. Something classic, but revolutionary. In short, they have no idea what they want. It's definitely been a departure from the small bands, jazz ensembles, and classical musicians I'm used to working with, but if I can get it right, the income from this one account could support us for the rest of the year.

I save the last bit of mixing I'd done on the session my business partner, Liam, recorded this morning and power down the soundboard. I make a few more notes in the client's file, then hop up and hit the lights before leaving the control room of our main studio.

Our main studio.

I'm still amazed by that. Amazed by the fact that this place—once a rundown auto-body shop—is now home to a fully equipped recording studio, two smaller rooms catering to solo artists and voice-overs, an administrative office, and a lobby. It's huge. And it's half mine, which is perhaps even more surreal.

When I started doing this, it was in our basement at home. It was "just for fun", and because I needed something to strive for besides worrying about my wife and child. Or so Leia said.

It took some time, but after a few successes with some students who needed demos and audition recordings, the opportunities started rolling in. We began attending music festivals and open-mic nights together so we could offer our services to musicians who were just trying to break into the business. Liam McKenna just happened to be scouting one of the first bands we approached and wanted to see what I could do. He was all-in from our very first recording session, and as luck would have it, so was his long-time girlfriend, Siobhan.

An accomplished vocalist herself, Siobhan fell in immediate girl-love with my wife, and together they began working on a name and logo for our little project. Now, barely three years later, we own a real production facility and have a growing client base reaching as far as Nashville and Atlanta.

Making my way down the hall, I head for the lobby at the front of our facility to find my wife. When I get there, I see she's laughing politely at something someone's said and swinging one leg where it's crossed over the other. Her dark eyes are bright and it looks like she's just had her hair colored and trimmed again. It's shiny and there are a few new blond streaks in it. It'll be summer soon, and she tries to keep her hair looking as natural as possible by lightening the dirty blond color in summer and darkening it again at winter.

I sometimes try to recall her with the deep, dark brown shade it was when we met, but after so many years it's difficult to picture her that way. Not to mention, she wears the blond very well.

Liam's the one talking to her, but her gaze finds mine immediately when I enter the room. I grin at her and she smiles back before standing from her chair, ignoring the rest of whatever my partner was saying to her.

"Hey, gorgeous," I say, because she is.

"Hi," she says, blushing.

I give her an inquisitive look as I lean down to kiss her. "What's going on?"

She shakes her head and tries to act nonchalant despite the way the color in her cheeks deepens. "Nothin'. I was just in the neighborhood and thought that maybe you might have time for lunch today?"

I narrow my eyes. Something's definitely up, the blushing gives her away, but I'm willing to play along for now.

"I think I can manage an hour to eat. Liam?" I look over to where my partner stands leaning against the reception desk, pretending not to watch us.

He shrugs. "That's grand. We're good here."

"Maggie?" I ask, because she's the one taking my messages these days.

"Oh, uh . . . I don't have anything for you. I think?"

"All right, then," I say, watching her rifle through the papers on the desk. "Call me if anything comes up."

"Ach," Liam says, waving us off. "Take as long as ya' need."

I thank him and he moves past me to hug my girl. "Enjoy your lunch, Leia."

"I will," she says, letting him go and taking my hand. "Thanks again. Tell Siobhan I'll call her tomorrow."

"Will do."

He winks at her and grins at me, so I'm fairly sure that he knows more about this little lunch than he's letting on. I let them have their secret for the moment, though, waiting until we're in the car before I finally ask.

"Okay, what's really going on?"

She glances at me from the corner of her eye. "Why does there have to something going on? Can't I want to have lunch with my husband?"

"It's not the lunch I'm suspicious of. It's all the blushing and winking back there. Oh, and the new hair-do."

She reaches up, reflexively. "You noticed."

"Of course, I did. It's pretty, baby." I lean over and kiss her cheek.

She surprises me by her putting hand in mine. She's a huge believer in "two hands on the wheel," especially when Charlie's in the car with us, so she rarely holds my hand while either of us is driving.

Which reminds me. "How was Charlie's appointment this morning?"

"It was fine. No cavities."

"That's our girl." I smile.

"Yeah, she got a glowing remark from the hygienist, but was disappointed that it didn't take longer."

"She was sorry getting her teeth cleaned didn't take longer?"

"Yep. It really says something about her teacher when she would rather have her teeth scraped than go to school."

I frown. "She used to love school until that woman came along."

"Well, every teacher can't be as dedicated and accomplished as you were back in the day."

I chuckle at her platitude, then think of our daughter again. "Why didn't you just keep Charlie out today and bring her with you? It's the last week of classes anyway."

"I thought about it, but I had my hair appointment right after. Not to mention that if I had kept her with me, we wouldn't be here now." She grins at me. "We don't get time together during the day very often."

"No, we don't." I smile and lift her hand, kissing the skin over her knuckles.

Her dark eyes glance over to mine and she blushes again before looking back to the road. It's then that I notice we're leaving the business district and headed away from town. Another light, then two, and we make the turn onto the road leading to our house.

Recounting my wife's blushing, my stomach does a little flip-flop.

"Where are we going?" I ask, needing confirmation before I get too excited.

She grins and squeezes my hand. "Home."

Hot damn. My heartrate picks up, but I try to play it cool. "Home, huh?"

"Mm-hmm."

"What's at home?"

"You'll see."

I let her fingers go and place my hand on her thigh, squeezing playfully. "Oh, I'll see all right."

She swats my hand away, but laughs. "Stop that, you don't want me driving off the side of the mountain, do you?"

"No, but could you hurry up? I'm hungry." I tease her, moving my hand higher and giving another playful squeeze.

She only laughs harder and covers my fingers with hers. "Patience."

I let out a small sigh and lean back in my seat while the rest of my almost forty-year-old body catches up to what my wife apparently has planned. I can't remember how long it's been since we've had a chance to be alone in the house in the middle of the day. Heck, I can barely remember the last time we got a chance to be alone at all.

Maybe New Years' Eve? Or had it been Valentine's Day?

Whatever the occasion had been, Siobhan and Liam had taken Charlie for us so we could have an evening to ourselves. We made the most of it as I recall, but nights like those never seem to be long enough. Perhaps because life never ceases to slow down.

Charlie, work, recording studio.

Charlie, grocery shopping, recording studio.

Charlie, church, recording studio, bills, Charlie.

Our little girl, Charlotte Renee Collins, is undoubtedly the best thing in our lives. She's affectionate, funny, intelligent, and has an uncanny ability to give us daily glimpses of long-lost loved ones.

Her face is 100% her mother's side of the family. She has her momma's eyes, which I've been told were also her Grandpa Charlie's, and her Grandma Renee's freckles. The rest of her looks seem to come from my side of the family. Her hair is just a shade less red than my sister's but just as curly, and I've caught her pinching the bridge of her nose a time or two—something that Tori and I both picked up from Carlisle.

Thinking of my father, I'm thankful for so many things he taught me over the years. Patience, humility, hard-work, sacrifice, and—for the lack of a better word—passion. I have to believe that it was the ardent way that he loved Esme that has helped me do the same with my wife. Not that it's always been easy, but I've tried to live up to the example I was given.

Turning to look at the woman I married, I flip our hands around and give her an affectionate squeeze in silent gratitude for all we've overcome and built together. She's given me everything she's had to give. She's been my partner and lover and friend.

Seeing me staring at her, she returns my affectionate gesture before taking her hand back and placing it on the wheel. We're approaching our driveway, which is on a blind corner and shared with two other homes. It sounds remote, but in this part of North Carolina, it's normal. Houses are dotted all along the mountainsides, and we're all only about fifteen minutes from town.

"Doing okay?" she asks.

"I'm doing great," I say, as she makes the turn. The gravel crunches beneath our tires as I run my pinkie along the inseam of Leia's jeans. Her breath catches and I delight in the sound.

"Masen. . . "

"Yeah?"

"Not yet," she says, as we pass our first neighbor's gate.

But I continue because watching her squirm under my touch is thrilling. There have been some rough patches in the last decade—periods of time when she was too haunted by grief or too overwhelmed by fear to spare any extra energy for passion. While I never doubted her love for me, it hurt that I couldn't reach her. Our physical connection had always been so strong, so losing it, even for a short time, left me feeling helpless, useless, and well . . . impotent. Mercifully, we always found our way back to each other. And quite often with a bang.

Thinking of one such occasion, I chuckle and slide my hand down her leg. She hits the brake a little too hard and glares at me, but it's not a real glare and she doesn't protest when I slide my hand back up.

By the time we reach the cut-off that leads to our second neighbor's place, I'm beyond aroused. Our house—a classic mountain lodge with high windows, an enclosed front porch, and ranch-style fencing that I installed myself—is within sight and now I'm the one squirming. I can hardly wait to get her out of this car and into my arms.

The moment we pass our gate, I press the button on the garage-door opener.

"Try to wait until I stop, okay?"

"No promises, baby."

She laughs as she pulls into the garage. I take off my seatbelt. The moment she has the parking brake engaged, I'm disengaging her belt as well. She pretends to be irritated as she cuts the engine. But then I'm leaning across the center console and turning her head toward mine.

"Kiss me, bellissima."

"Mase—"

My name, along with whatever else she was going to say is lost when I press my lips to hers. Her delicate fingers slide along my jaw and then curl around my neck. I lean closer to her, seeking entrance to the heaven that is her mouth. She sighs, complying with my demands and demanding of me in return. Her free hand slides into my hair as I run my fingers down her neck, along her collarbone and over her shoulder.

She moans and I begin calculating the best way to get her over to my side of the car without hurting her or breaking the momentum we have going. The damn cupholder is already jabbing my knee. Her legs are trapped by the steering wheel. Maybe if—

"Okay," she says, pulling away from my kiss with a gasp. "Inside. We need to go inside."

Breathing hard, I lower my forehead to hers. "Or you could just come around, I'll slide the seat back."

She runs her fingers through my hair. "Tempting, but I think we'll both be more comfortable inside."

She kisses me once more before pushing me away and opening her door. I still have one hand on her waist while she climbs out. Just before she escapes me completely, she turns and touches my face.

"Could you grab the bags behind your seat, please? I bought a few things for lunch."

Feeling a bit bewildered, I blink at her. "Uh . . . okay. Sure."

"Thank you."

She smiles as she shuts the door in my face and saunters away, glancing back over her shoulder with a smirk. A heady combination of desire and excitement courses through me as she disappears through the door to the house. I don't know what exactly has gotten into her, but I don't care. This might be the best damn day we've had all year.

I get out of the car and reach for the back door in one hurried motion. I hear her keys jangle inside the house and something hits the floor. Maybe her shoes? By the time I've retrieved the grocery bags she asked for, I'm wondering if Liam would mind if I took the rest of the day off. Naked wife is a whole lot more appealing than the endless edits I've been working on, and he did say to take all the time we needed.

Hot damn.

I rush inside, closing the door behind me with my heel. My only priority is to dump these bags and find my girl. So imagine my surprise when I enter the kitchen to find her . . . washing dishes?

I stare at her back, heart racing and feeling a bit foolish. She's not only fully clothed, but she's standing in front of the sink with the water running. I thought she'd be halfway up the stairs already. Or at least waiting for me.

Trying not to be too disappointed, I set the groceries on the counter. She might yet be up to something. Or, she could be testing me. Was I supposed to do the dishes this morning and forgot? Scrambling to remember, I step behind and wrap my arms around her slim waist.

"Whatcha doin'?" I ask, pressing my lips close to her ear. If she is testing me, I can probably distract her.

To my relief, she shivers and presses back against my chest, turning her head a little to nuzzle her cheek against mine. "Just putting these in the dishwasher."

"Did you ask me to do that this morning?"

She lifts her head, looking surprised. "No. I don't think so." She frowns. "I was in such a rush to get out the door though, I may have forgotten."

"Oh," I say as she looks forward and reaches over to open the offending appliance. "Then, you're not mad?"

She laughs. "No. Why?"

"Well, I'm just guessing, but . . . unless you're making a point here, I can't imagine you went to all the trouble of kidnapping your husband from work just to come home and do the dishes."

"I see," she says, laughing again. She shakes her head and then turns back to the sink, lifting another glass from beneath the water. "Were you expecting me naked and draped across the table already?"

I suck in a breath as she pushes me back with her hips, twisting slightly and bending at the waist. She slowly places the glass in the open dishwasher beside her, rubbing her ass against me in the process.

"Something like that," I whisper, one hand sliding appreciatively over her curves.

She glances over her shoulder at me, her eyes full of mirth as she stands and grabs the next dish. I groan as she repeats her little maneuver. I know she can feel my reaction to her, but she turns back to the sink and continues as if oblivious. Finally, two bowls, a coffee cup, and a couple of spoons later, she closes the dishwasher and grabs a towel to dry her hands.

"Well," she says, her voice silken as she leans into my body. "I guess I'll have to make it up to you."

I wrap both arms around her middle, ready to divide and conquer. "You're off to a good start," I say.

She hums and lays her head back against my shoulder, arching against me. "Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah."

"In that case . . . Let me just put these groceries away and we can see where this goes."

I start to say something dirty in her ear, but then her words click in my brain. "What?"

She laughs lowly, removing my hands from her body and pulling me along with her. "You can help if you want. It'll go faster."

I groan again and not in a good way. We haven't had sex in almost a week. We haven't had sex without our child in the house for much, much longer. She has no idea how worked up she's gotten me.

"You're mean," I say. She laughs at me, but sucker that I am, I dutifully go along with her. When we reach the island where I'd dropped the groceries earlier, she rifles through them. Glancing sideways at me, she bites her lip and quickly looks back down. I raise an eyebrow and wait a breath, then reach for the two-liter of ginger ale she's pulled out of the bag.

"Soda?" I ask since we're not big on the sugary drinks in this house.

"Just in case," she says, shrugging and pulling out another.

I nod and move to open the pantry, making make some room on the floor. I nearly forgot about the nasty case of stomach flu Charlie had a few weeks ago. She wasn't able to keep anything down for longer than a few minutes, but out of everything we tried, ginger ale seemed to stay in her the longest.

I turn back around and am presented with a couple boxes of Saltines, followed by cookies. We're not real big on processed carbs either, so I glance at my wife with another raised eyebrow.

"Animal crackers?"

She shrugs and hands me the next item. Ginger tea.

I reach for the top shelf of the pantry, wondering how much more obscure crap she bought, but then stop. There's something niggling at the back of my brain. I look at the box again and back at my wife. She's staring at me expectantly.

I tilt my head to one side. "Am I supposed to be guessing what you're up to?"

She nods.

"Okay . . . are there any more clues or do I have to figure it out from the obscure groceries?"

Her laughter is light, but slightly nervous. "I'd hoped you would have caught on by now, but I guess it's been a while."

Now I really am curious. I take a step toward her as she hands me a large, green pill bottle with a light brown label. The label is obscured by her hand, but the moment I turn it in my hand I gasp.

"Holy shit." My heart begins pounding and my fingers tremble around the words printed in small block letters. "Are you . . ."

Her voice is small. "Surprise."

"You're . . ." My mouth opens and closes. "Are you?"

"No," she says slowly, her brown eyes are wide and vulnerable. "Not yet anyway. I thought you might want to help me out with that, though."

I drop the pre-natal vitamins and grab her so fast that she lets out a little squeal. She wraps her arms around my neck as I lift her off the ground.

"Really?" I whisperaughing as I squeeze her closed then .

She nods. "If you still want to."

I pull back and press our foreheads together. "God, yes. Of course Iwant to. As long as you do."

"I do," she says, her eyes shining. "I really do."

I laugh and then kiss her silly, pulling her tighter against my body.

She gasps when we part. "I'm sorry it's taken me so long," she says breathlessly.

"Don't apologize. Just . . . are you sure?"

"I am. I want to have another baby with you."

"Holy shit," I say, spinning her around and kissing her again. I hold her as close as I possibly can, relishing the taste and feel of her. I'm so freakin' elated that I don't even realize I've slid her onto the counter until something crashes to the floor. The rest of the groceries, from the sound of it. Not that I care one bit.

I cradle my wife's gorgeous face between my palms and take stock of her expression. Her eyes are teary but filled with love and desire. Her smile is radiant as the sun. The sight makes my own smile widen and a lump rises in my throat. Before I lose it altogether, I go back to kissing her.

Her lips are soft and demanding, moving in synchrony with mine. I revel in the feel of her tongue sliding against my own, as her hands slide along my back. My body has no trouble regaining its former state of arousal and I move my fingers to her waist and hips, groaning as she grips the back of my thighs with her ankles.

Wrapping her legs around me, she pulls herself to the very edge of the counter. I moan and shift my hips into her. She arches her back, her mouth falling away from mine with a pleasurable gasp. I trail kisses along her jaw and neck, my tongue peeking out to taste and adore her.

"Yes," she whispers.

I flex my fingers, slipping them beneath her and squeezing, rolling. "God, I love you."

"I love you, too," she pants. "Oh, do that again."

I run my nose along the neckline of her blouse and roll my hips into her again. "What? That?"

"Yes." She fists my hair and presses her heels into my backside. "Again."

I'm already on it, moving against her, creating a strong, steady rhythm. She joins in perfectly, moaning each time my length hits her in the right spot. I feel like I could come in seconds, and we're both still fully clothed.

"Jesus, bellissima. I need you. Can we start trying now?"

She moans and turns her head to press her lips to the hollow beneath my ear. "God, yes . . ."

"You're sure you're ready?"

Her tongue and teeth snake along my ear lobe. "Ready, willing, and . . . at my most fertile the next two days."

"Oh, God." I groan, faltering and falling against her.

She laughs, somewhat breathless. "Too much info?"

"No." I shake my head. "Quite the opposite."

"Good." She sucks on my Adam's apple, making my groin pulse painfully.

"You're killing me here," I say.

Humming, she slides her fingers up my back into my hair. "Then do something about it, stud."

I lean her back on the counter and tilt her face up. "You're incredible."

She kisses me with her eyes open, her hips lifting slowly, her hands sliding to my jaw. Pulling back, she touches my bottom lip with her thumb. "Let's make a baby together."

My eyes sting and I have to take a moment to blink back the emotion she stirs in me. Then I'm kissing her, and kissing her, and kissing her. I pick her up, blindly stepping away from the counter, only to stumble back when she begins tugging up my shirt, trying to pull it over my head. I lean against the counter to steady us but end up having to set her down. She arches her back, still clinging to my shirt. I pull away from her just long enough to rip the damn thing over my head and toss it across the room, then lean over her once again.

Her kisses are enticing and serious, and my skin erupts with sensation as she slides her hands up my pecs and over my shoulders. My groin pulses when her right thumb grazes the scar on my shoulder. She breaks our kiss to follow it with her tongue, worshipping the sensitive skin tenderly. My heart races as she moves south, nipping and sucking in all the right places.

She blazes a trail along my navel with her palms and then she's grabbing for my belt. I heave a breath and drop my forehead to her shoulder to watch. I know it's time to take this little interlude upstairs, but I'm captivated. I want to see where this goes and she's already sliding my zipper down.

Unfortunately, the brush of her hand is almost enough to undo me, so I grab her wrists and pull her up, placing her arms over my shoulders and crashing my mouth to hers. We both moan as I grab a palm full of her perfect ass and lift her once again from the counter.

The friction and the feel of her heat pressed up against me makes me shudder. I pray a silent prayer that I'll be able to get her to our room before I combust, but then she's speaking.

"Mase . . ." she says, her lips wet and hot near my ear. "Baby, wait."

"I can't," I mumble, moving awkwardly in the direction of the stairs.

She threads her fingers through my hair and pulls. "No, put me down."

I grunt. "I'll put you down in bed."

"No," she says, panting, wiggling.

I'm bewildered and frozen as she presses a kiss to my neck. "We're alone silly. Let me down."

"Huh?" I think I say, but it's possible nothing more than a whoosh of air escapes my chest.

She lets out a throaty chuckle and shimmies down my body. "Let's have a little fun. On the counter . . . or the table. Take your pick."

Understanding dawns and my breath stutters out in a long, uneven rush. My knees threaten to go out on me as well, because she has her shirt unbuttoned in the next second.

Then she bites her lip and smiles up at me, reaching for my waistband. "How about right here to start?"

"Really," I say, trying to breathe as I glance around and consider where we are. We've spent countless hours in this kitchen, mostly with our child, or with the bills and a laptop spread out on the table between us. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't fantasized a time or two about throwing the damn bills to the floor and working her over instead of dealing with the damn budget.

I glance for a moment at the large window over the kitchen sink. We're the highest home on this hill, but our four-acre property is mostly surrounded by trees. That's enough for me, but I want to be sure my wife is alright with this.

"What about the window?"

She shrugs, smiles deviously and holds my gaze as she pops the button on my jeans and slowly lowers my zipper. Any concern regarding the neighbors flees and I get to work on removing her shirt the rest of the way.

"God, yes," she says when I expose her bra and brush her lace-covered nipples with my thumbs. I repeat the motion several times, then lean down to kiss her sternum and collarbones. But before I get my mouth where I really want it, she lowers herself to her knees and shoves my pants and boxers over my hips.

"Happy Baby Making Day," she says, wrapping a hand around my hard-on.

"Jeesuus," I hiss, surprised, elated, and throbbing.

"You're so excited," she says, watching me.

"Uh-huh."

She hums. "I hate to waste this, but—"

My breath hitches as she engulfs me in the heat of her mouth. The friction of my wife's lips sliding over my head and down my shaft is exquisite. Beyond exquisite. It's downright sinful, especially combined with her words. I'm groaning and bracing myself against the island behind her with one hand. The other hand goes to her hair as she begins to move continuously, gripping what doesn't fit in her mouth with her fist.

Ecstasy rolls through me as she sucks in slow, sure motions. She twists her hand, and I curse as her cheeks hollow out on the next pass. My groin tightens, my spine tingles, and I'm right there.

"Too good," I gasp, pulling away and cupping her chin to stop her. "Stop, baby. It's too good."

She smiles and looks up at me from under her eyebrows, sliding back with aching slowness. I jerk away before she unmans me completely and grab her hands, pulling her to her feet and bending to take her mouth with mine.

My breathing is choppy as I push her against the edge of the counter and wrap my arms around her, reaching for her waistband and sliding my hands inside her slacks. She moans and arches into my movements, grasping at my shoulders as I grind myself into her heat. Releasing her mouth, I trail my lips down her neck. When I reach her shoulder, I use my teeth to pull first the strap, and then the cup, of her bra down on one side. Her response is instant and loud as I begin circling her nipple with my tongue.

"Yeesss," she hisses, as I suck her warm, pliant flesh into my mouth. She lets go of my shoulders and grips my hair, holding me to her. It takes a bit of coordination, but I manage to work one hand up her back and get her bra loose. "Oh, yes," she sighs when I yank the material out of the way and switch sides.

I take a moment to appreciate the sight of her round, pebbled flesh and tight, swollen buds. I nip gently with my teeth, making her whole body shudder. I know that I could make her come like this if I wanted to, I'm just not sure I have the patience.

"I need to be in you," I say, nipping at her a little harder.

She groans, and I remove my hands from her ass to get working on her zipper. She's already got the button undone so it's quick work to get them over her hips and off. I toss them aside, do the same to my own, and then run my hands up her smooth legs before reaching for her panties.

As I lower them, I kiss the top of her thigh, her knee, her shin. Once I've reached her ankle, I remove the scrap of lace and look up at her. I love the way she's watching me—brown eyes glazed with desire, mouth parted, chest rising and falling steadily. She's a goddess. My goddess.

"You are so beautiful," I tell her.

She smiles and touches my lips with her fingers. I kiss them, then grab her waist and lift, setting her on the oversized island. She yelps a little at the cold, but parts her legs to make room for me. I can't help but bend down, sliding my fingers and then my nose through the small patch of hair above her sex.

"Mase . . ." she says, but it's barely a breath.

I glance at her face, holding her gaze while kissing her softly. Her breath hitches and one of her hands goes to my head. At the first pass of my tongue, the other slaps onto the counter behind her.

"Oh God . . ."

Pleased, I hum against her flesh before circling slowly over her clit. Her fingers flex in my hair and she moans, softly at first, then louder as I increase the pace. It takes a minute, maybe less, for her to let go, cresting in a burst of body-wracking shudders and shouts.

I give her a few more passes with my tongue—enjoying the way she jerks and shudders and mewls—and then stand. Placing my hands on either side of her hips, I kiss my way up her body. I'm momentarily sidetracked by the almost invisible stretch marks on her navel, but they merely serve as a reminder of what we're doing here. Or . . . what we're about to be doing.

I touch her soft, flat belly and recall what it looked like rounded with our child. I place my hand over it and then resume my path over my wife's skin. Reaching for my erection, I close my fist around it and step closer.

Leia she scoots to the edge of counter, reaching for me and dipping her mouth to meet mine. "Please," she murmurs against my lips. "I want you inside me now."

I line my body up with hers, stroking myself as she wraps her still-shaky legs around my waist. "I got you," I say, using my free hand to both support her and maneuver myself into position.

Holy mother of God . . .

We both groan as I fill her. In the time it takes me to close my eyes, I'm all the way in with her throbbing around me.

"Oh yes, oh please," she begs.

I muster my strength and grip her knee in one hand, her ass in other. "This'll be fast, baby."

"That's okay," she moans. "Please just move."

I nod and grant her wish, slowly pulling out before snapping my hips forward again. She mewls and drops her head back, an action which thrusts her breasts in my face. I watch them bounce as I build a rhythm. I lick between them as her walls tighten around me, spurring me on. It feels so good. She's so good, so beautiful like this.

I want to watch her to come again, but feel my own orgasm threatening.

I reach for her clit with my thumb and warn her. She drops her legs and opens her hips wider to me.

"Don't stop. Please, Edward, don't stop."

My groan is guttural as I rear back and then drive into her hard. "Fuck, fuck, fuck . . ." I gasp as my cock swells.

She screams and I bite my lip, scrunching my eyes shut and trying to hold off. I practically pull her off the edge of the counter and brace my free hand behind her, slamming into her until my body bows forward with a spastic jerk. Mouth open and heart pounding, I press as far inside her as I can get, emptying into her with an immobilizing force.

"Oh, Christ. . . oh, Jesus. . . " My thumb falters. I think I may be having a heart attack. I'm probably not, but I might be.

"Yes. Come in me. Come, baby."

Amazingly, I continue doing just that until my legs nearly give out on me. I collapse onto my wife, chest heaving. She holds me, panting and fluttering around my very sensitive cock.

My ears are buzzing and every part of my body is covered in a thin sheet of sweat. Hers is, too. The skin where we're pressed together is downright slick. The air is thick with the scent of us. I try to take a slower breath, but it's almost impossible. My heart is still pounding.

My bellissma's voice somehow breaks through the sound. "That was amazing."

I nod wearily. "Sorry I didn't wait for you."

I think she laughs. "You didn't have to. I was already there."

"Yeah?"

Her voice is low and husky. "Oh, yeah."

"Good."

She rubs my back. "Slide me back."

"Huh?"

"Slide me back a bit. Just don't go too far yet."

I couldn't even if I wanted to, so I take a deep breath and heave my arms underneath her back. I use my hips and the last bit of strength in my legs to scoot her farther onto the island, then collapse again. She laughs, albeit breathlessly, and begins running her fingers along my spine.

"You okay?" she whispers.

I nod. It's all I can manage.

"You sure?"

Another nod.

She giggles and then sighs as I close my eyes and listen to her heart beat.

-o-o-o-o-o-

The bad thing about wild and crazy kitchen sex at my age is that I'm completely wiped out afterward and need a nap. My wife doesn't seem to mind as she holds me tight to her, telling me if we stay still for fifteen minutes it will increase the chances of successful conception anyway. I don't mind, but my lower back does.

When it becomes truly unbearable, we hobble—well, I hobble—into the family room and collapse on the sofa while Leia makes a quick run to the bathroom.

"Come here," I say, opening my arms when she reappears. (Still naked, to my very great delight.)

She grins and pulls a blanket out of the ottoman in front of me. Sitting at my side, she throws it over us and snuggles under my arm while I prop my legs up. With her head on my shoulder, she begins running her fingers lazily over my chest.

I close my eyes and sigh, enjoying the feel of my fingers in her hair. "Love you, bellissima."

"I love you, too," she says. "So much."

We're quiet a moment and though I'm nearly asleep, I can't stop thinking about the last hour. Especially the last few minutes of it.

"You called me Edward," I say softly.

I feel her lips curve. "Oops."

Chuckling, I think about all the times we messed up in the beginning of our marriage. Fortunately, it was rare in public, but at home it took a long time to think about her as "Leia." It took even longer to stop calling out Bella in a fit of passion. Of course, her nickname has helped with that. She doesn't have an easy option to cover her mistakes, though.

I suddenly wonder if we could get away with naming our next child Edward, if it's a boy. I doubt she would go for that, but just the thought of picking out names increases my state of bliss.

"Thank you," I murmur.

Her voice is sleepy. "For what?"

"For having my babies. I can't wait to have another little piece of you to hold on to."

Her breath hitches a little and her arms tighten around me. "Me either. You're such a wonderful father."

I look down at her, concerned. "Why do you sound sad?"

She sighs. "I'm not, I just feel pretty awful I made you wait so long."

"You didn't," I say, kissing the top of her head. "You weren't ready. And I don't blame you for that. For a long time, you had every reason to worry about bringing more children into our life. I've always understood."

"I know. That doesn't mean you haven't wanted more kids."

"So . . ."

She sniffles and shrugs. "So I made you wait nine years, Mase. Nine. I feel awful about that. When I decided I wanted a baby, I couldn't even wait for our anniversary to get here to tell you!"

I blink. "Our anniversary?"

"I wanted to be able to give you something memorable. Something you really wanted."

"This was gonna be my present?" I grin.

"I'll have to think of something else, I guess. I got impatient. I just couldn't wait to tell you, and I knew it'd make you happy. You've been so stressed out lately, you needed this."

I reach for her face, turning her chin so I can kiss her. Deeply. "You don't need to get me anything," I tell her when I release her. "We can do this exact same thing again. I promise I'll love it just as much a month from now."

"Okay, although . . . I might already be pregnant by then."

The thought makes my heart give a happy little lurch. "Well, then that can be my present. Although, I'm kinda hoping it will take a little longer."

I waggle my eyebrows at her, but she doesn't laugh like I think she will.

"I hope it doesn't take too long," she says instead.

"It didn't last time."

"But that was a decade ago. What if we waited too long? If I waited too long and it just doesn't happen again?"

I sigh and stroke her jaw, running my fingers reverently beneath it. "Don't think that way. It'll happen. You're young and healthy."

She nods, but her eyes grow glassy. "You're so excited, though. This made you so happy."

"It did." I tilt her face up and hold her closer. "But that's because you make me happy. You're my everything. You, and Charlie. And that'll be true no matter what happens."

"But—"

I press my lips to hers, trying to stop her from worrying herself out of the blissful and sated state we've been in. "But nothing. We want a baby. So what we're going to do is have hot, sweaty sex as much as we possibly can, for as long as we possibly can. If it happens, it happens. And if it doesn't, then we'll look into other options."

She slides her hand over my heart. "I don't want other options. I want to have your baby. And I want to make that baby with you."

Jesus. Her words send my pulse straight to my groin.

"Well," I say, licking my lips and taking a breath. "That would be my first choice, too, but there's no sense worrying about it. Not yet."

She sighs and then presses a kiss to my shoulder. "You're right."

I stroke my hand down her back. "Look, let's just enjoy this. You're giving me one of the best gifts you've ever given me."

"What, changing my mind and agreeing with you about something?" she says, and I'm glad to hear humor in her tone.

"Well, that . . . and you kidnapped me in the middle of the day for the express purpose of having sex. Kitchen sex, no less. With the blinds open."

She lets out a laugh and covers her face. "Jeez, I am so glad we live in the mountains."

I chuckle and kiss the top of her head. "Me, too. But feel free to kidnap me again when you're feeling the urge. That shit was hot."

We laugh together, and Leia settles deeper into my side, her head on my shoulder. She plays with my chest hair and makes patterns with her fingers. It's hypnotic and soothing, and increasingly arousing. I realize I haven't thought about work or getting back to the studio at all, and I really don't want to. Not when I could be here.

"Baby? Do you have to go back to the office today?" I ask.

She shakes her head. "No. I just need to check emails before four o'clock and make sure I prep for tomorrow."

"Good. I'll text Liam to let him know I'm staying home, too."

I feel her smile against my arm and then she slides her fingers to my naval. I suck in a breath as she starts circling my belly button. "Are you hungry?" she asks.

"A little. You?" I run the hand I have over her shoulder down her side to her hip.

"A little. Do you wanna make some sandwiches and a salad?"

"Yeah, but maybe later?" I ask, tugging on her hip and stopping her hand to raise it to my lips.

She looks up at me as I press a kiss to her palm. Shuddering softly, she nods and then lifts the blanket covering us out of the way. She rises on her knees and then slides a leg over my lap until she's face to face with me, her arms on my shoulders.

We kiss for a long time and end up making love again right there on the couch. Despite being much slower and softer than our romp in the kitchen, it's just as intense. We take our time to savor, slowing to a near stop just so that we can feel and breathe together. She traces the lines of my scar over and over, only pausing when she places her hand over my heart. I cover it with my own and stare into her dark, liquid eyes, knowing it's these moments—these rare, fleeting, perfect moments—that make everything we've had to fight for and come back from, worth it.

She's worth it. My life, my heart, my home.

-o-o-o-o-o-


E/N: More to come. I promise it won't take another 5 years. That said, any wish-fulfillment requests, let me know & I'll see what I can do. '-) oxox