Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 90524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
“Ohmygod, she found me?!”
“I found her for you.” Guilt surfaces in his gaze. “And then like an idiot got worried that you’d leave us for her instead of realizing that shit wasn’t about you. That shit was about me. Because you’d never abandon the people you love, which is something I’m still not quite used to.”
“Ig…” My hands lovingly cup his face prior to cooing. “Of course, I wouldn’t abandon you. You’ve given me something I’ve been simultaneously searching for and avoiding my whole fucking life.” Small strokes from my thumbs summon a pleased groan. “Your Slayer is not going anywhere, Forty-Two. Even if she needs a lot of help remembering why that is.”
“Then let’s start by putting my number back where it belongs, aye?” He gingerly leans forward to clasp it in place. Afterwards his lips brush against the shell of my ear where they whisper, “YA tebya lyublyu.”
“I love you too,” I smoothly state back, further confirming the chokehold on my memories is loosening given that I recognized the phrase without assistance.
The man I love grumbles in relief and possessively smashes his mouth against mine.
Additional familiarity pulls soft whimpers out of me as our tongues clash together in ease and gratitude and hope.
Maybe having a mind that tries to protect me against my consent isn’t the most enjoyable thing, but having a person in my life willing to love and help defend me through it all is definitely the type of post-Christmas miracle I’m thankful to have.
Epilogue
About 5 months later…
Joey
Honeymooning in a town where I literally get to have Christmas in July – because it’s always the Christmas season in Mistletoe, Montana – is probably the sweetest thing Ig’s done for me since officially becoming my husband.
Which happened a week ago.
It has, without a dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy doubt, been the craziest summer of my entire life.
Between working on recovering my memories – they never all come back in one go – and surviving the sleighride of playoffs – didn’t make it to The Cup though we got close – I figured by the time our summer was ready to officially start things would slow down.
They didn’t.
Not even a snowflake amount.
We got engaged, we planned a wedding, had a wedding, did a mountain of paperwork for everything from prenups, to new NDAs, to legal guardianship papers, to early private academy enrollment for Bella’s upcoming pre-k school year, as well as a job application for me to work for the same organization as Jovani – who came back for the wedding with her husband. Now, we’re on a weeklong honeymoon in a private cabin while our daughter – gumdrops and lollipops do I love being able to use that term – is on a weeklong beach resort vacation with her grandparents who are contemplating buying a vacation property on South Haven Island.
I mean I wouldn’t mind us having an extra reason to be close to my big sister.
Wow, do I love being able to say I have a big sister.
And in laws.
And a daughter.
And a husband.
A husband who has woken me up every morning by smashing his face between my legs and indulging in what I know has to taste better than bone broth.
At the very least, I know it smells better.
Very few things smell better than the peppermint scent I keep my skin covered in.
Igor dips his tongue inside one last time to taste my recent orgasm before languorously dragging it upward. Its first pause is at my hips where gentle kisses are swiftly followed by his palms locking onto them. Me. Keeping my lower half pinned firmly underneath his despite my tiny tugs for freedom. The next is on my bellybutton, an area he knows gets me giggling and wiggling, two actions it seems he can never get enough of. He barely waits for my laughter to fade to latch onto one nipple. Just the very tip of his slippery muscle rolls around and around and around, summoning my back to bow, convincing it to keep arching until the seemingly forgotten other tit can enjoy a few heavenly brushes of its own. Rather than continue to torture one side, he relocates his mouth to capture the other. Clamps his teeth on it at the same time he uses his knees to open my legs wider.
And wider.
Gently pulls on my nipple while pushing them up higher.
And higher.
Only once I’m in some sort of froggy on its back position does he then find my hands for the claiming.
In one swift motion, he pins them above my head, ferociously thrusts inside, and groans, “Fuckkkkkk, Slayer…” His forehead instantly lands to rest against mine. “YA ne mogu nasytit'sya toboy.”
Gah, I can’t get enough of him, either.
I swear if it weren’t for the pre-scheduled activities he already planned we’d probably never leave this goddamn cabin.