Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83858 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83858 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
He chuckles, the vibrations coming from deep within his chest.
“Yeah, but it wasn’t all role-play actually. That thing about me being a billionaire? It’s real. I got the latest update from my accountant, and—well. You’re dating a man with nine zeroes in his bank account.”
I blink, astonished. “You’re a billionaire?” I whisper.
Talon nods and then winks.
“Angel’s Share pushed me over the threshold. You are officially dating a man worth ten figures.”
I press my face into his neck, still giggling. “Yeah, but Talon, I don’t care if you’re broke or a billionaire. I just want you. My reclusive mountain man with the rough hands who knows how to handle an axe.”
“Good,” he says, and kisses me long and soft. “I’ll always be that for you, sweetheart.”
And in that moment—arms wrapped around the man I love, head buzzing with the promise of a glorious future—I know that I finally get to write my own happy ending.
EPILOGUE – BACK TO THE PROFESSOR AND HIS NAUGHTY STUDENT
KAT
Two years later.
The night air sparkles with snow, soft flakes pressing against the window in slow-motion huddles, and every corner of the cabin radiates that hush you get when the rest of the world is blanketed and sound can finally take the night off. The fire pops and cracks, spit-roasting the logs in the hearth and making the whole place glow. I’m curled on the deep leather couch, one leg folded under me, the other draped across Talon’s lap as he traces lazy circles on my knee, a glass of wine balanced expertly in his free hand.
We’re alone at the cabin this month, and it’s blissful to relax, chat, work, and eat in the company of my handsome mountain man. Talon’s wearing flannel pajama pants and a black t-shirt that shows off his muscular physique. He hasn’t shaved in days, and the bristle on his jaw makes him look even more like a disreputable lumberjack. His blue eyes are fixed on me, and I get the feeling he’s counting the seconds, but pretending not to.
The fire crackles, and he leans forward to top off my wine, careful not to spill even a drop. The bottle is something red and lush, a gift from Simone (“It’s an aphrodisiac,” she’d whispered, waggling her eyebrows, as if I needed encouragement). The glass is heavy, the kind that makes you feel sophisticated even if you’re just slouching in your boyfriend’s shirt sans panties. I take the wine from him, letting our fingers brush, and he lingers a heartbeat longer than necessary.
He sets his glass down, fingers drumming on the edge of the coffee table. There’s a fidgety, anticipatory energy to him tonight, like he’s winding up for something and can’t quite get it out. For a second, I think he’s going to launch into a story about his latest book, or about the time he once drank a whole bottle of absinthe with his agent in Prague and ended up writing three chapters in Esperanto. Instead, Talon clears his throat, rakes a hand through his dark hair, and gives me a look.
“You’re staring at me,” I murmur with a smile.
“I am,” he says in a deep tone. “I have something for you, Kitten.”
My pulse jumps, just a bit. “What is it?”
He laughs, and then reaches under a cushion and pulls out a small, black velvet box. Not the kind from a mall jewelry counter. This one is irregular, a little battered, the edges fuzzy with wear. He looks at it like he’s not sure it’s the right moment, then glances at me and seems to decide it’s now or never.
He opens the box and inside is a ring. Not a diamond. It’s a band of brushed gold, wide and solid, with a tiny, perfect fox inlaid in wood—walnut, maybe? The fox is cunning and sweet and just a bit mischievous, the eyes two flecks of opal, and I know immediately it was made by Erasmus because the little paws are a dead ringer for the fox carved into the side table he gave us years ago.
I stare. My heart is suddenly a bass drum. “Talon…”
The huge man sets his wine aside and slides off the couch to kneel on the rug, so close I can feel the heat of him, the heat of the fire, the heat between my thighs that never fully goes away around this man. He holds the box up, and the firelight bounces in his blue eyes and makes the ring look like it’s glowing.
“For the record,” he says, voice low and rough, “I’m not good at speeches. But—” He blows out a breath, glances down, then up. “This cabin was where I learned how to love. Where I learned that sometimes, you have to burn down the old life to get something better. You taught me that, Kat. You’re the best thing I’ve ever encountered in my humble existence.”