by Haley Travis
Molly came back from fussing around in the kitchen with two small glasses of whiskey. “I’m too tired to cook, so why don’t I order pizza in a little while?” she asked.
“Good idea,” I said, clinking my glass with hers as we took a sip. “Interesting,” I said. “What’s this?”
“I have no idea. The bottle is in the kitchen. I just told the liquor store guy your three favorites, and he picked out this one.”
“Brilliant,” I chuckled. Setting my glass down, I sat back on the sofa, making a face as I stretched out my left leg.
“You’ve worn yourself out today,” she said, frowning. “See? I told you we should have gotten movers.”
“I’m fine,” I said, starting to get up.
“No, whatever it is, let me get it,” she said anxiously.
“I’m not going to let my darling girl wait on me hand and foot,” I said, trying to sound as grouchy as possible.
“Can I at least get you your cane?” she asked.
I sighed heavily. “Sure.” I pointed to the far corner of the room. “It’s by the window.”
Molly darted over to pick it up, bringing it to me with one of her sweet smiles. Then her eyes grew wide. “Why is it rattling?”
It was pure hell to keep my face blank and not grin from ear to ear. When my brother first gave me that silver-tipped cane, he showed me the hidden chamber inside the handle where you could hide a tiny test tube shaped flask. I’ve never had a reason to use the hidden compartment until today.
“Unscrew the top and check,” I said.
She came over to sit beside me, slowly unscrewing the silver handle of the cane until she found a light pink ribbon. Pulling it out slowly, she shrieked when she saw the diamond ring tied to the end.
Rolling off the couch, I dropped carefully to my good knee. “Molly, I’m so happy that you decided to move in with me, and blend our lives. But I want to make it permanent. I love you more than I knew it was even possible to love someone. Will you marry me, and make me the happiest soldier in the world?”
Her chin was nodding up and down quickly, but it took her a moment to be able to speak. “Yes,” she whispered as she wiped the tears from her eyes.
Taking it from her hand, I untied the ribbon and slipped the ring onto her finger. Then I tied the ribbon around her wrist in a sloppy bow.
“I love you so much, baby,” I murmured, getting up to sit beside her. I kissed her gently, then just rocked her so that she could catch her breath.
“I love you,” she said, her voice a bit stronger as she stared at the ring. “Thank you, it’s beautiful. I love it. And I love you.”
“Nowhere near as beautiful as you are, baby. You’re always so sweet, caring for everyone else around you. You’re going to have to let me care for you a lot more, okay?”
“Not a lot more. Maybe a little more,” she giggled. Instantly her newly decorated hand flew to my knee. “So you were faking that your leg hurt just now?”
“Yes. I’m terrible.”
She shook her head. “You honestly scared me. Don’t do that again.”
“Only when I’m busy proposing to you, I promise.”
“If you ever do that again I’ll make you do more exercises, I swear.”
Kissing along her throat, I murmured, “You were so cute and shy the very first time you bullied me into doing them. Maybe I’ll be a jerk again.”
Molly captured my face in her hands. “As long as you’re my jerk, and you never stop snuggling me.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She fell into my arms, kissing me as if she never wanted us to stop, and I agreed completely.
EPILOGUE TWO
* Molly *
* Six Years Later *
It’s absolutely amazing how much can change in a few years.
Watering the herbs in the huge kitchen window, I looked out into the backyard. Britta and Charlie were running in circles around their dad, trying to attack him from different directions.
James had the patience of a saint with our two rambunctious toddlers. He listened to every detail of their elaborate fantasy stories, would read them the same book over and over before bed, and was working on his illustration skills for drawing on the white tile with soap crayons during bath time.
He was the best father I could have ever dreamed of. He was also the sweetest, sexiest husband I would never have had the nerve to wish for. The four of us were constantly hugging, always physically connected when we were together, which filled me with the deepest calm I’d ever known.
Laughing at the sight of our two little ones circling their giant father, my heart swelled with love for all three of them.
But my medically trained eye noticed something just as sweet.
James was taller than he was when we first met. No more slouching, trying to disappear from the world. No more cane, except for a few times a year if he really overworked his leg and the weather had been cold and rainy.
My soldier stood up proud and tall, towering over his babies.
Watching him running in circles, chasing them to the far fence and back without a trace of a limp made tears prick my eyes. His shoulder rarely hurt, and never when he was holding them, or me.
Just a few weeks ago, the four of us had gone on an easy forest hike. We took photos of the kids and the trees, and even after several hours on his feet, James was completely fine.
I knew that he’d been scared he would never fully heal, physically or mentally. Some injuries never completely disappear. But after he poured all of his darkness out onto the pages of those journals, he had kept up with the habit.
Since the initial purge, he seemed to only write a few times a month, but he did keep it up, taking a new notebook from the stack on the living room shelf whenever he needed it. He was now able to drop a few memory fragments into our conversations without getting that lost, lonely look in his eyes.
Dashing from the kitchen window, I ran down to the back door to open it for him, since James had a child slung over each shoulder, carrying them as if they were sacks of potatoes.
“Are they trees today?” I asked. “Are you a lumberjack?”
“Yes, but I think they’re only shrubs.”
The giggles erupting from Charlie and Britta were nearly hysterical. Their dad called them something else every day or two, from rocks and trees, to bags of sand. I had no idea why it was so hilarious to them, but perhaps it was an in-joke that mothers weren’t privy to.
He dragged them down the hall to drop them one by one into their beds for nap time, listening to them fake snore for him. Then they all laughed from trying to decide what a snoring shrub sounds like.
I loved that they were so close. That all of us were.
James shared his hopes and fears with me now, and we planned our future together. He’d completely come out of that shell he had formed around him.
He never did tell me the complete story about how he was injured, but he finally told me a few details. His team had been sent in to clear a village that was about to be bombed, and a building had started to collapse with people inside. He’d held up a huge beam to stop a family from being crushed, then when a bomb went off, he jumped out a window to escape, which is how he’d been injured.
“I was broken, seven people lived. Fair trade,” he had muttered.
That was more information than I’d ever expected, and was grateful knowing that my husband was a hero. And if he hadn’t been injured, I would never have met him.
A month after he shared the first part of the story with me, he added that his best friend Pete had been on the far side of the building, closest to the explosion. He hadn’t made it.
James was consumed by guilt, I think. But he kept on writing, working his way through it. He’d mentioned Pete’s name a few times in passing now – a movie they used to watch together, or how crazy their card game nights used to be.
It was amazing to see him continue to progress. It also explained why James had chosen Peter as
Charlie’s middle name. In a few more years, I’d tell him how happy that made me.
I went up to our bedroom, undressing completely and slipping on a silky nightie. I stretched out as if I was napping. Sure enough, James joined me moments later, locking the door. He stripped, then laid down beside me.
“I saw you watching from the window, baby,” his deep voice rasped against my ear as his thick arms circled me.
My fingers slipped down to grip his thick bicep. “You’ve been working out harder.”
“A little. Or maybe it’s from lifting the kids. They’re growing like weeds,” he chuckled.
“I thought it was shrubs.”
“Whatever.” The look in his eyes had shifted, his lids lowering as he gazed at me seductively. “Be my goddess.”
I loved that it was one of his quiet commands.
When we re-decorated the bedroom a few years ago, James had insisted on getting a high headboard so that I had something to grab onto. He was also insistent on an old-fashioned dresser beside the bed with an enormous mirror. I realized a few days later that he wanted a side view whenever I rode him.
He pushed the extra pillows out of the way, getting into position on his back as I crawled across his deeply muscled body. He reached up to pull my nightie off, throwing it behind me.
Spreading my knees on either side of his head, I lowered myself as he grabbed my ass hard, pulling my pussy against his mouth. It had been over a week since we’d had a chance to indulge in his favorite position, and he dug into me as if he had been starving.
James gripped my knee, giving a small tug to spread me wider, lowering my sex so that I was pressing hard against his mouth.
Gripping the back of the headboard, I leaned forward, already grinding against his hot, wet tongue. My hips took over, my body directing my pleasure without thought.
Looking down, James looked so peaceful, while also being completely aroused. Arching back, I twisted slightly to grab his shaft, giving him a few quick strokes, but he spanked me sharply.
“Focus on you,” he mumbled.
I almost giggled, but his tongue fluttered too quickly against my clit, making me moan.
Reaching forward again, I gripped the wooden frame, swiveling my hips in a figure-eight pattern as I ground down.
I didn’t know what it was about this position that made me feel so crazily sexy. Somehow, using him to get to the edge was extra dirty.
James began licking as if he were possessed, two of his fingers slipping into my tunnel as he dug in. Pressing my lips together so that I didn’t scream, my body began to buck and shake, trembling as I coated his fingers and tongue with my juices as I came.
“Mmm,” I heard from below, as I tried to focus down at his blazing eyes.
Even though that was his favorite little fetish, it was always just an appetizer for me. Quickly moving down, I straddled his hips, gripping his hot, hard length and angling myself over it. My soaking flesh pulled him in instantly, as he stretched me open.
Even though I’d been under him, on top of him, and beside him a million times by now, it was always a rush to feel his body so deep inside mine, touching me where no other man ever would.
Every time was still so desperate and breathless, filling us with a crackling excitement that would never fade. His hands gripped my waist, rocking up into me as we moved together.
“You’re so beautiful, baby,” he murmured. “So sexy when you’re on top.”
Our bodies rolled, pumped, squeezed every ounce of pleasure from the other as we tried to stifle our moans. His biceps began to bulge as he gripped my hips, lifting and lowering me so that I could relax, lost in the moment.
“Touch yourself,” he rasped.
The way he stared at me as if he were hypnotized made me feel so sexy and powerful that I always obeyed his dirty little commands . Sliding one hand up into my hair, and the other down to rub against my clit, his seductive smile told me he was memorizing the sight above him.
I was already too far gone, trying to choke back my wails as he gripped me harder, thrusting up into me deeper and faster as it felt like he was losing control.
“I need to feel you let go,” he choked.
In a flash I was aware of every inch of our bodies touching – my knees clamped around his hips, my toes against his thighs, his big hands on my hips, and my pussy rippling across his thickness as I started to climax.
“James,” I moaned, then completely lost the power to speak as the heat rushed through me like a tidal wave.
“Yes, baby…yes,” he growled, staring into my eyes as his jaw clenched, shuddering as I felt the hot bursts of his release inside me. Watching his muscles ripple with tension made me strangely proud.
After we caught our breath, I carefully got up and lay beside him. Snuggling into his shoulder, my hand slid up to its favorite spot right over his heart.
“Do you think they’ll stay asleep long enough for another round?” James asked.
I laughed. “Let’s not press our luck. Save something for tonight.”
“All right,” he pouted, sticking out his bottom lip.
I kissed it, then his entire mouth as we relaxed into each other’s arms. Looking up, I absolutely adored the gentle look in his eyes.
James was completely relaxed now. No big secrets, no topic that had to be avoided, no emotional minefields to step around. His neutral state now was peaceful, not grumpy.
He was no longer a broken soldier. He was a loving husband, devoted father, and an incredible man. But most importantly, he was all mine.
*** The End ***
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About the Author: Romance author Haley Travis lives in a charming (old and rundown) little house with an old fashioned (overgrown and crazy) garden and just the right amount of books (six giant overstuffed shelves, the floor is starting to creak). She enjoys writing quirky, sexy modern romance, and loves creating interesting female characters who are at a turning point in their lives.