Epilogue
When Sienna opened her eyes, she had a momentary feeling of confusion, unsure of where she was. Then the sensation of Max’s mouth between her legs brought her immediately back to reality.
They were at a small hotel a few hours north of Aix. It was cute and tiny and old-fashioned, a far cry from the large, luxurious meeting place that had once been theirs more than six months ago. They’d arrived the night before, eager for an evening off, now that Max—and she — were comfortable enough to leave Enzo with the nanny overnight.
They had made love half the night before falling asleep exhausted, but now Sienna was discovering that a few hours’ rest had completely recharged Max’s batteries.
She chuckled as he licked at her. “That tickles.”
He pretended to be offended, lifting his head from between her thighs to glare at her. “Tickles, did you say? I am giving you world-class pleasuring, and you’re acting as if I am taunting you with a feather?”
She cocked her head to one side. “Actually, a feather might not be a bad thing to try. I mean, we’ve tried worse.”
Max slid up to cover her body with his, stopping her from talking with a hard kiss. “There will be no talk of feathers,mon minou. Not when we have this.” He grabbed her hand and thrust it down between their bodies, where the evidence of his arousal was making itself very much known.
She should have known better, but she taunted him anyway. “Are you afraid of a little competition?”
“I’ll show you how afraid I am.” In one swift move, he penetrated her, causing her to gasp and squeeze her eyes shut. She might have pissed him off, but she was happy to pay the price.
He filled her, fulfilled her. Taunted her, promising and withholding. He reached out to cradle one full breast in his hand, and then grasped her hand and rested it there in his place. “Play with your nipples for me. Pinch them… squeeze them. You know better than me how you like it.”
She obeyed, feeling the puckered flesh under her palms, the hardening pebbles rolling between her fingers. The exposure of self-stimulation while he egged her on, plunged into her over and over, made her purr. On and on they went, matching each other, movement for movement and hunger for hunger.
Reading her desire loud and clear, he joined her in her quest for an orgasm. She found it fast because it had been waiting for her, ready for her, and she seized it gratefully, crying out once again. All the while, Max was unleashing a steady stream of French in her ear, speaking so fast she had no idea what he was saying, but she could tell that it was rude, salacious, and filthy.
She held on to every word.
And then, something shifted between them, as it often did. As they crested the rising wave of orgasm together, Max slowed down. The stream of sexually charged words were transformed into soft, tender and loving whispers, in which he assured her over and over how deeply he felt for her, how completely and utterly she owned his heart. His gentleness and perfect openness made her heart ache.
As they slid back into normalcy, they clung to each other, listening to their breaths in sync, their bodies still joined, fingers interlaced. The only thing that went through her mind was how absolutely perfect this all was.
Hours later, as they drove back to Aix, Sienna was silent, looking out the window and admiring the scenery that lazed by. The speed at which Max was driving was nowhere near his usual masterful, self-assured clip. It was as if he wanted her to relax and enjoy the drive. His hand enclosed hers, and his body was as relaxed as hers.
This is perfect, she thought dreamily. How is it possible that one person could be so happy? She was spending so much time in France recently that she was beginning to think of it as her home. She was used to taking flights back and forth to the States to look after her businesses, but whenever she returned to be in his arms and in his life again, it was as if she came alive only then.
She was beginning to suspect that she was putting down small, delicate tendrils of roots that might some day strengthen, pinning her to this part of Earth.
Sienna was easily able to run her business-counseling services and vlog from wherever in the world she found herself. On the other hand, she’d had to hire a manager for her housekeeping business. Someone to ensure employees were adhering to her standards. And though it was continuously expanding, she was considering selling it. That way, she would be able to stay in France for longer periods of time. Here where Max, baby Enzo, and her friends were.
Max had granted her the honor of naming his son, and she’d chosen Enzo. She would never admit that she named Max’s son after her fictional crush from the television show,The Vampire Diaries. It was a name she had decided long ago she would give her son if she ever had one. The name seemed fitting.
Numerous times, she’d observed Max with the baby, and the more she saw of them together, the happier she was that he had made the decision to devote his time and heart to being a full-time dad. She was proud of the change she saw in him ever since he had brought that little sweetheart home. Max had flown her parents into France so he could meet them. Her parents had since visited a second time and during that visit, her mom complained that Enzo needed a playmate. She ignored her mom since Enzo was six months old at the time and didn’t care one bit about siblings.
Surprising to her was the strong maternal devotion she felt towards the Enzo! Who knew she would reach a place where she would look forward to bath time, story time and falling asleep next to the man she loved with a baby that wasn’t biologically hers, sleeping soundly between them? Even now, although their night off had been insanely good, she was eager to see Enzo. The day they left for thismini-cation, the tyke had called her “Ma.” Her heart soared while Max encouraged his son.
And every time she thought about how close they had come to losing him, Sienna felt a sharp stab of anger towards Éloïse, who had disappeared without a trace. Max still had his people searching for her, still itching for retribution, but Sienna kept reminding him of something her mother always told her when she was a kid: you can’t escape your sins. She was sure that the woman would eventually get her comeuppance, if not now, later.
Sienna smiled to herself as she thought about Max’s mom, who eventually had been practical enough to admit she had been wrong about her. And although the woman never lost her natural imperious mannerisms, she had softened considerably towards her. She accepted and respected her son’s choice. They weren’t buddies or anything, but once or twice they had walked the baby in the garden together, and Sienna had even accompanied her to chemotherapy. The older woman was determined to beat the disease and see her grandson grow older. Sienna hoped she got her wish.
Max changed the music on the player to something softer, as if he knew that her mind was drifting and wanted to allow her to follow whatever train of thought to its end point. As a matter of fact, he was playing one of her favorite R&B songs. He was thoughtful that way.
“Ça va?”he asked.
She nodded, feeling full of sleepy warmth and peace.“Ça va,”she confirmed. All was well. Very well. She chuckled. Her French was getting so good that she was able to hold short conversations without even thinking about it.
So deep in thought was she that it barely registered that the car had rumbled to the shoulder of the road, and Max was unbuckling his seatbelt. She looked around, slightly confused. “What’s happening?”
He shrugged. “I think there’s something wrong with the tire.”