The passion of last night’s events – the fear and pride of seeing him become Animal to defend us – pushes us into a carnal whirlwind. We tore into each other as though we were both animals, writhing nakedly together to a shared climax.
I roll over and claw across the sheets, eyes still closed, early-morning sunlight glowing red against my eyelids. But Kaleb isn’t there.
I open my eyes.
He stands at the edge of the bed, already in a silver suit. His bright blue eyes gaze down at me, holding me in place as he casually adjusts his cufflink. He expands in his suit, all of his muscles honed, his cheeks firm as he smirks over at me, freshly shaven.
“Are you going somewhere?” I ask sleepily.
“No,” he growls. “We’re going somewhere. Get dressed.”
“Where are we going?”
I sit up, yawning and stretching.
Kaleb’s eyes move over my bare breasts, his jaw tightening as he bites down. I’ll admit, part of me is moving like this on purpose, drawing his attention to my features, because I freaking love it when he gets that look in his eye.
“Fuck, Sassy. Don’t distract me.”
“What?” I giggle, knowing the laughter will make my breasts bounce in the way he likes. “What am I doing?”
He grins wolfishly. “You know what the fuck you’re doing. But I mean it. We’re going someplace. Get dressed.”
“You’re being very mysterious.”
My mind goes to the moment last night when Kaleb asked Mom if they could talk alone.
My heart burns like an undying inferno, with all the potential of what that conversation could’ve held, but I can’t allow myself to fall so easily into the flames. It will only lead to disappointment if I collapse freely into what I wish was true, instead of enjoying things for how they are right now.
That’s what Kaleb does to me, the same thing I do to him.
He allows me to live in the moment.
But we both want more than a series of moments.
We want a future, a family…
I want to tell him I love him.
“Well?” he says, with a shrug. “It’s a mysterious sort of day. Get dressed, Sassy.”
I sit next to him in the car as he glides through the city. We’re in one of his sports models with the low seats, cars moving past the windshield as he casually weaves in and out of traffic.
“I want you to know I support you,” he growls, changing gears.
He looks so damn manly as he drives, complete confidence in his movements, fluid and composed the same way he was when he defended us in the diner.
“I know that.” I touch his arm softly. “Of course I know that.”
“I always will.” He glances at me, eyes glimmering. “For the rest of our lives. Whatever you want to do, as long as it doesn’t involve anybody else—”
“Never,” I cry, cringing at the mere thought of being with another man.
I can’t stand to even entertain the idea.
It’s always been Kaleb Keller.
“Then you’ve got my support. Always.”
“And you’ve got mine,” I murmur passionately. “You know that. Always.”
“I know.” He shifts gears, slowing down as we come to an intersection. “I want to show you something.”
“Okay, mystery man…”
He turns down a quieter street and then comes to a stop outside a small redbrick office block. He pulls into the side alleyway and a garage opens at the end of it, closing behind us when he pulls in. Lights flicker on, and I look around the garage, but it’s all just sleek metal.
“I don’t want to show you a garage.” He reaches over and prods me playfully. “Come on.”
He climbs from the car. The wing-like doors flip up automatically and I follow him, walking out of the garage and down a small hallway.
“This is what I wanted to show you.”
He opens a door and I gaze in wonder.
It’s a cozy office, with big windows at the end of it which look upon the most beautiful garden I’ve ever seen, enclosed from the street by high redbrick walls, which are covered in ivy and sprawling nature, creating a beautiful tapestry.
I walk into the office, eyes stinging as my gaze moves over the walls.
He’s had my artwork printed as canvases and hung from the walls. There’s a big desk in the middle, facing the window, with a sketching pad and a pencil.
“Is this…”
“Yours? Of course, it is.” He shifts behind me. “Turn around, Kelly.”
I turn to find him on one knee, gazing up at me with a ring box in his hand.
I gasp as my wildest dreams crash into reality, the heat of the moment moving through me like a tidal wave of lava.
“I love you, Kelly Jones,” he says, his voice husky. “I loved you the second I walked into the studio and you gave me a fake name. I loved you when we first kissed. I can never stop loving you. You’re the only person I ever want.”