Passing Through

The Epilogue

Chapter Sixty One – Epilogue

Two years later.

"What do you mean Coop's retiring?" Bo was shaving in the bathroom when he heard Natasha's voice from the bedroom.

"Freya told me," she called back. "He's fed up with travelling, he's been offered a consultancy role with the British ice hockey association. It's more nine to five. Means he can be a better Dad, and Freya can start doing more work with me. So, yeah, he's accepted it. Handed his notice in last week."

Bo shook his head, "he didn't mention anything when we played pool for hours last night."

Natasha laughed as she peered around the door frame, "not in the circle of trust, obviously. Now, can I remind you, we've got twenty minutes and you're still in a towel. Arse into gear, Mr Holding."

Rolling his eyes he turned back to the mirror, needing to finish his shave.

The last two years had been amazing. Since Natasha agreed to be his wife, he hadn't looked back. He had played the last two seasons with the Hornets, finally winning the league this season, under the wily management of Coop. Him leaving? That could be a catastrophe.

"Come on, Bo. We are going to be so late."

Glancing to the door, he took in his wife, absolutely stunning in a red dress, wrapped around her delicious curves and tied at the waist, low cut without being slutty, split up one thigh, with heels, at the end of those long pale legs, and her rich dark red hair, piled up onto her head. He loved everything about her, and didn't think it was possible for him to love or desire her more, then she got pregnant. Now, her boobs were bigger, her hips curvier, and that swell that was their baby...she said she felt like a whale, to him she was a fucking vixen. He had a permanent hard on around her.

"Fuck..." he dropped his razor into the sink and stalked the last few steps towards her, snagging her and pulling her into his arms. "You look fucking edible."

As he tried to kiss her, she wriggled out of his arms, "You are covered in shaving foam. My make up took ages, I'm not letting you mess it up."

He raised an eyebrow, "you march in here, looking like a teenage boy's wet dream, and then hold me at arm's length?"

Slowly glancing down his naked body, her eyes deliberately paused at the tent in the towel, that was all he wore, wrapped around his waist, "needed the arm's length, obviously."

"You're denying me? After causing this?"

He dropped his towel, giving her a glimpse of his completely naked body.

"Would have tempted me before I got to own you..." she waved her wedding ring at him, "but now, I just know you're all mine when we get home. So there's no rush...think of the whole evening as foreplay."

When Bo came down the stairs in his tux, she knew that, for all her bravado, she was as desperate as he was. He was such a mountain of a man, smelled amazing, and boy, could he rock a suit. When she tried to snuggle in for a kiss, he laughed, "oh no, Mrs Holding, you will have to put up with all that hormonal horniness until we get home, at your own request. What did you say? An evening of foreplay?""

She groaned, because he was right, her hormones were raging on a permanent basis, and he was the sole focus of her rampant libido, not that he ever complained.

Kissing the top of her head, he took her hand, "we've got an end of season dinner to attend."