EPILOGUE 1

EPILOGUE 1
WINTER

He kisses me.

It’s not the frantic, desperate kind from last night—the kind that felt like we were trying to outrun time itself. This one is slow, devastatingly tender, like he’s afraid if he moves too fast I’ll vanish.

His lips are warm, soft, trembling just enough to betray how much this moment costs him.

One hand cradles the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair like he’s holding something irreplaceable.

The other rests over my heart—palm flat, heavy, feeling every frantic beat as if he’s counting them to make sure they’re all still his.

The kiss deepens gradually—lips parting, tongues brushing in lazy, intimate strokes that taste like coffee, like salt air, like every tear we’ve ever cried for each other.

I taste the raw edge of him—fear, relief, love so big it hurts—and I melt into it, hands sliding up his chest, fingers curling into his shirt like I need to anchor myself before I drown in him.

When he finally pulls back, it’s only far enough to rest his forehead against mine. Our breaths tangle in the small space between us—warm, unsteady, shared.

He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear—touch so gentle my throat closes up—then cups my face in both giant hands, thumbs stroking the apples of my cheeks like he’s memorizing the shape of them.

“Your heart is so fucking beautiful. I know you’re still carrying Harry and Ariel in the back of your mind. You’re worried about them. You’re hurting for them. And that… that’s why I love you so much it fucking hurts. Because you care. You always care. Even when you’re bleeding, you still find room to worry about everyone else.”

I freeze—caught, exposed. A small, broken laugh escapes me.

“Am I that obvious?”

“Only to me,” he says softly.

“I know you, baby. I know every quiet corner of you. I know when you’re smiling through pain. I know when you’re carrying more than you let anyone see. And I love you for it. I love you so much it scares me sometimes.”

He pecks my lips—quick, tender—then pulls back just enough to smirk through the tears shining in his own eyes.

“I truly believe we were meant to meet, Snowflake. You were meant to be mine. And sometimes… life has to be fucking cruel. It has to break us open, bleed us dry, just so we can finally understand how goddamn precious this is when it’s right. When it’s us.”

He pauses, thumb still brushing my cheek, eyes searching mine with that raw, unguarded intensity that always makes my heart stutter.

“And if Ariel and Harry are meant to be… they’ll figure it out too,” he adds softly.

“It might take time. It might hurt like hell first. But the right ones always find their way back to each other… eventually. They just have to survive the breaking part. We did.
We survived it. And look at us now.”

“You’re incredible, Zion Royal.”

He shakes his head once—slow, almost pained—thumb brushing away the tear that escapes anyway.

“Not as incredible as you. You’re also a thief.”

I glance down at the hoodie I’m still wearing—his, oversized, soft, smelling like him—and smile, small and shy.

“I like stealing your hoodies.”

He chuckles—low, warm, wrecked—but shakes his head.

“No… I’m not talking about the hoodies.”

His thumbs stroke my cheeks again, eyes locking with mine—serious, soft, devastating.

“Without me knowing… you were stealing my heart. Since we were ten. Quietly. Completely. You slipped inside me and never left. Even when I tried to hate you. Even when I tried to forget you. You were always there—under my skin, in my blood, in every breath I took. You stole my heart, Snowflake. And I never wanted it back.”

My breath catches. Heat floods my face—embarrassment, joy, love so big it hurts.

"So cheesy.”

The corner of his mouth twitches—small, crooked, that devastating half-smile that always makes my stomach flip.

“Now let me show you what other moves I’ve got,” he murmurs, voice dropping into that low, velvet growl that vibrates straight down my spine.

I wind my arms around his neck, pulling him closer until our foreheads touch.

“I’m yours, Zion,” I whisper against his mouth, voice breaking.

“Completely. Irrevocably. Do your absolute worst. Break me open. Put me back together. Love me until I can’t breathe without you. I’m ready.”

He groans—low, wrecked, almost a sob—and peppers kisses across my skin before dragging his tongue up the length of my neck, tasting me.

My heart pounds so violently hard that there’s no way he can’t feel it before he sucks on me throat so hard it forces a scream to rip from my throat.

ZION

“Zion,” she screams.

The sound of my name ripping from her throat hits me like a fist to the gut—raw, broken, desperate. It’s so fucking intense, so primal, every syllable slamming straight into the darkest, hungriest part of me.

My cock leaks harder, a thick bead of precum rolling down the shaft, balls drawing up so tight they ache with the need to empty inside her.

I press my mouth to her ear, lips grazing the shell, voice dropping to a low, filthy rasp that vibrates against her skin.

“What do you want, Snowflake?” I growl, curling my fingers deeper, stroking that swollen spot inside her until her walls flutter and clench like they’re trying to trap me there.

“You want my face shoved back between these pretty thighs? Want me burying my tongue in your dripping little cunt again?”

She sobs—high, shattered—hips bucking wildly against my hand.

“Tell me,” I demand, teeth grazing her earlobe.

“Do you want me licking every inch of this soaked pussy? Sucking that swollen clit until it’s throbbing in my mouth? Fucking you with my tongue until your legs shake and you’re gushing all over my face? Until you’re screaming my name so loud the whole fucking beach house knows exactly who’s making you come apart?”

“Oh God—yes—Zion—please—”

I brush my lips over her throat—slow, deliberate—feeling her pulse race under my mouth.

“Do you remember how my tongue felt against your sensitive pussy? How my fingers stretched you open? How I found that spot inside you that makes you beg, makes you shake, makes you forget your own name?”

Her skin erupts in goosebumps under my touch.

She shivers—full-body—hips rocking helplessly against my hand.

“Yes,” she whispers, voice trembling.

“I remember.”

Fuck.

I’m done with talking.

My hands move before my brain finishes the thought.

Fingers hook under the soft waistband of her yoga pants—thin, worn fabric that’s been driving me insane all morning, clinging to every curve like it was painted on. I don’t ease them down.

I don’t ask.

I shove.

One hard, impatient tug and the material drags over the swell of her hips, scraping lightly against skin that’s already flushed from the way she’s been pressing against me.

They catch for half a second at the fullest part of her ass—fuck, that little resistance makes my blood roar—then give way, sliding down her thighs in a rush until they puddle uselessly around her ankles.

She gasps—sharp, surprised, the sound punching straight to my cock.

Then the hoodie—my hoodie—comes next. I yank it up and over her head, hair tumbling wild across her shoulders as she’s left in nothing but a tiny black thong, soaked through, clinging to her like a second skin.

“Hell yes,” I grunt, pressing my palm between her breasts, giving her a sharp shove.

She falls back—bouncing once on the mattress—landing sprawled on the bed in just her thong, thighs parted, chest heaving, eyes blown with lust and glassy from the alcohol and the need.

She watches me—hungry, unashamed—as I strip off my shirt, kick away my sweatpants.

My cock springs free—thick, hard, leaking steadily—and her gaze drops to it, lips parting on a soft, needy sound

Fuck.

I’m Zion fucking Royal, and I need my Snowflake almost as much as I need my next breath.

Her back arches off the bed, and unable to resist the lure of her naked body, I crawl lower, kissing over her collarbone and then to the swell of her breast.

Please,” she whimpers, shamelessly offering herself up to me.

“With fucking pleasure,” I groan before sucking her nipple into my mouth, teasing it gently with my tongue before biting her until she screams for me.

“Zion,” she whimpers when I switch to the other side.

“Time we picked up where we left off, huh?” I murmur.

I continue shimmying down her body, slow and deliberate, letting my chest drag over her skin so she feels every inch of me—muscle, heat, the hard ridge of my cock brushing her inner thigh.

When I reach her hips, I tuck my fingers under the thin sides of her thong. The lace is already soaked through, clinging to her like it’s trying to stay on.

I don’t give it the chance.

I rip it off her in one sharp tug—the fabric tearing with a soft, satisfying sound.

She gasps—sharp, needy—hips jerking up instinctively as cool air hits her bare pussy.

I press my palms flat to the inside of her thighs, spreading her wide, thumbs stroking the soft, trembling skin just shy of where she’s aching most.

Her folds are swollen, glistening, pink and perfect, clit peeking out like it’s begging for attention.

I stare down at her—really stare—like I’m committing every detail to memory.

“The thing my dreams are made of,” I rasp, voice rough and reverent.

“Look at you… so fucking wet for me. So ready. I hope you’re not tired, Snowflake, because I have every intention of eating this pretty pussy all fucking night.”

Her breath hitches—high and shaky—thighs quivering under my hands.

I lower my head slowly, letting my breath ghost over her first—hot, teasing—watching goosebumps erupt across her skin.

“I’m going to lick you until you’re shaking,” I promise, lips brushing her inner thigh.

“Suck that swollen clit until you’re crying. Fuck you with my tongue until you come so hard you soak my face. Then I’m going to do it again. And again. Until your voice breaks. Until your legs won’t hold you. Until the only word you remember is my name.”

She whimpers—desperate, broken—hips lifting toward my mouth.

“Please…”

I don’t make her beg twice.

I devour her.

Tongue circling her clit with firm, relentless pressure, then dipping inside her, fucking her with deep, lazy strokes.

My hands grip her thighs, holding her open, thumbs stroking the sensitive skin as I suck her clit into my mouth, tongue flicking the swollen nub over and over.

She’s shaking already—thighs trembling around my head, hips bucking, broken moans spilling from her lips.

“Zion—oh god—yes—right there—”

I add two fingers—sliding in slow, stretching her, curling deep to stroke that spot inside her that always makes her fall apart.

She clenches around me instantly—hot, tight, fluttering—and I suck harder, tongue relentless, flicking the underside of her clit in rapid little strokes while my fingers pump in perfect rhythm.

Her back bows off the bed—sharp, arched—thighs clamping down on my shoulders, hips grinding against my face in frantic little jerks.

Her moans turn into sobs—high, helpless—tears slipping from the corners of her eyes as the orgasm builds and breaks.

She comes with a shattered cry—walls pulsing around my fingers, clit throbbing against my tongue, thighs shaking violently as wave after wave crashes through her.

I feel every flutter, every squeeze, every gush of wetness coating my chin, my lips, my hand.

I don’t stop.

I keep licking—gentle now, soothing—lapping up every drop, tongue soft and slow over her oversensitive clit, drawing out every tremor, every aftershock until she’s whimpering, hips twitching away and toward me at the same time, torn between too much and not enough.

“Zion—please—I can’t—”

I hum against her—low, soothing—vibrations making her jolt again.

“I’m not done,” I murmur, lips brushing her swollen folds.

“Not even close.”

I suck her clit back into my mouth—gentle suction this time, tongue laving slow, lazy circles—keeping her right on the edge, keeping her trembling, keeping her mine.

She sobs—soft, overwhelmed—hands fisting the sheets, thighs quivering uncontrollably around my head.

And I keep going.

All can go all fucking night.

Because I’ve waited thirty-five days to taste her like this again.

And I’m not stopping until she’s wrecked.

Until she’s mine.

Until there’s nothing left but us.