Trouble Bruin (10 page)

Epilogue

Charlie giggled as Art worked his way down her body. He kissed her nipples, blowing cool air over the little pink buds to make them hard, then tweaking them with his fingers and making her squeal. They were lying in a proper bed in a proper room in Cottonwood. Nobody was hurtling out of the sky, nothing was on fire, and no shady corporations were trying to kill them. It was bliss.

Art kissed the soft flesh of her belly, then growled as he ran his palms up the silky insides of her thighs and parted them, giving him access to her glistening petals. She could smell the musky sweetness of her own arousal.

When Art carefully parted her folds with his tongue, her playful gasps turned to moans of excitement. He teased her clit with his tongue, then swirled around it, and she arched her hips towards him, pushing against his clever mouth.

When he worked a finger inside her slick channel, she bucked against him, rolling her hips, grasping handfuls of the comforter as he drove a second finger inside her. The first orgasm took her by surprise and she groaned and spasmed, pulsing against the heel of his hand.

Art moved over her as she lay limp and gasping, and pulled her against him, hiking her knee over his hip so she was wide open to him. She barely managed to breathe out a husky, lust-addled “Please…” before he guided his cock into her soaking wet heat. She tightened around him and he instinctively drove deeper, pushing her closer to fulfilment with each muscular thrust of his hips.

When she was trembling on the brink of climax, he rolled them over, drawing her on top of him. He covered her creamy breasts with his palms as she circled her hips and he strained up to meet her every movement, his lips parted and his eyes half closed.

She sank down onto his cock again and again, riding the rhythm, lost to the blissful feeling building in her belly, the trembling strain in her thighs. Art grasped her hips, fingers digging into her soft flesh as she made love to him. As she lost the beat, driven wild by the surges of breathless anticipation that weakened her limbs and pooled between her thighs, he sat up and pulled her upper body to his, the new angle of his cock locking her muscles and making her cry out again and again as she came, muffling her helpless shouts against his shoulder.

* * * * *

“I was so afraid,” Charlie said. Her head was resting on Art’s broad chest so she could hear the reassuring thump-thump of his heart. They’d slept wrapped in each other’s arms. “I didn’t know whether you were alive or dead.”

“Schrödinger’s Bear, that’s me,” said Art. “Ow! I thought we were on the same side.”

Charlie smacked him again. “It’s not funny,” she said.

Art sobered and put one finger underneath her chin, tilting her face up so she was staring into his eyes. She could have happily drowned in their inky depths. “You should have known I’d come for you,” he said. “I’ll always come for you. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Charlie hid her face against his throat. “I’m so sorry…” she began, her voice muffled.

But Art rolled her over, covering her with his big, warm body. “Hush,” he said. “Your rose-tinted glasses suit you. If you didn’t see the best in everyone, you would have run a mile before we ever got to know each other.”

“Well, I did try,” she reminded him. “Titch chased me down.”

He laughed. “I knew I liked that kid.”

“She’s certainly one of a kind,” Charlie agreed.

As promised, the Chief had found Titch’s mom. To nobody’s surprise, she’d hooked up with another grade-A asshole, and for a while it had looked like the cubs – Titch’s half brothers and sisters – would be taken into care.

The Chief had pulled some strings, though, and tracked down Marco’s parents – the cubs’ grandparents. They were decent folks, and had stepped forward to take care of the little ones. Grandma was happily knee-deep in pink and blue yarn, while Grandpa grumbled good-naturedly and secretly doted on the babies.

They’d offered to take Titch in, too. She’d insisted she’d rather stay with Charlie and Art, but somehow found an excuse to drop in and play with the cubs – and every time there was something in the oven.

She’d headed over there earlier in the day, after complaining that Art and Charlie didn’t have anything in the fridge that she wanted to eat. Charlie had pointed out that was because she’d already eaten it. By her count, Titch was on six square meals a day, plus snacks.

“She told me we were going to live happily ever after,” Charlie said.

“That’s how the story goes,” Art agreed happily.

Charlie snuggled against him. “It’ll be nice not to have to worry about anything more dangerous than being disapproved of by your uncle’s secretary. “Only…”

“I know,” Art said. He curled a tendril of her hair around his finger. “Dynamic Earth. That bastard Dr. Atkins. They’re still out there. Still turning people into money and getting away with it.”

“Well…” Charlie mused. “You’ve got ex-military contacts. And super strength and magical healing powers. And I’ve got a plane…”

He frowned. “I can’t ask you to go hurtling headlong into danger again.”

Charlie grinned. “Oh, I don’t know. The last time I did that, it turned out pretty well.” And she kissed him.

THE END

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