Gold Dust Widow: The Story of an Outlaw's Revenge

Epilogue: Clara

One year later

I woke up to the warm sun on my face, the sweet late summer breeze and Jasper's steady breathing below me. I could feel his arm wrapped around me, keeping me pressed to his side.

Blinking in the sunlight, I could see Lady and Jasper's gelding grazing in the field. Ares slept curled up at our feet, snoring.

Curled in her basket, swaddled in blankets, our daughter Liana was still fast asleep, making small noises. My heart seemed to swell as I gazed at her.

Her small pink mouth moved as she attempted to speak, her long black lashes, the perfect fairness of her youthful skin. She was his. She was mine. And she was perfect.

I took a moment to enjoy the warmth, the feeling of Jasper's arms around me, and the calm of the desert in the morning.

I lifted my head and stared at Jasper. He looked peaceful, his long hair falling over his forehead, his beard in dire need of chopping. I pressed my lips to his chest. His salty skin.

"Good morning," I breathed, kissing up his throat.

His arms tightened around me slightly, his big hand sliding up my thigh, sending goosebumps through my body.

He grunted.

I pressed my lips to his jaw. He smiled and I knew he was awake.

"Good morning, sleepy-head," I tried again.

"No," he grunted. "It's not morning." His voice was thick with sleep.

I grinned. I loved his gravelly morning voice.

"Yessir, it is," I hummed.

He tried to ignore me, closing his eyes tight. But I continued kissing my way up his throat, around his jaw, on each eyelid.

He groaned. "Stop sliding your body up me, Clara, before you regret it," he warned.

It only served to spurn me even more. His deep voice sent shivers through my body as I straddled him.

His arms tightened around me, and his hand travelled up my body and stopped on my bottom, where he started squeezing.

I let out a small moan.

"Fine," he growled, his arm suddenly swinging out and winding around my waist, pulling me under him.

I grunted at his sudden weight on my chest, but his lips quickly found mine. His hands moved up and down my body, squeezing, and caressing. His kiss was sloppy but passionate, his morning wood pressing against my stomach.

I wriggled beneath him as he made his way down my body, pulling at my drawer strings. They slivered off me and he tossed them away, running his hand down my bare stomach and to the apex of my thighs.

He grabbed my knees and pulled them apart, baring myself completely to him and the warm morning sun.

I was humming with need, my thigh slick already. But Jasper just crouched above me, staring down at me.

"Jasper," I whined, reaching down to grab his hands.

He stopped me, grasping my wrist and tugging them up above my head, spreading me out for him.

"So fucking beautiful," he murmured, connecting his lips with mine.

His body descended against mine, his rough clothes creating a delicious friction against my naked skin.

I gasped with pleasure as his lips travelled up my sternum. He took each of my nipples into his mouth over my chemise, wetting the material, and swirling his tongue around the raw edges. The pleasure was excruciating.