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He drew Brianna down to him with their clasped hands and kissed her. Despite his bloody nose he could taste only her—her sweetness, her laughter, her warmth, her love. He’d always felt he was missing something in his life. Always thought it was just another midlife crisis he’d fill with a sports car and an executive title and a nice house, but all those things were empty. They didn’t matter.
What mattered was the woman whose mouth fit so perfectly against his—and the way she fit so perfectly into his heart.
Pulling back reluctantly, he stroked her fingers, coaxed them apart, pried the ring free. And when he slipped it onto her finger, gliding it over the softness of her knuckles, her breath hitched and she stared at him with wonder.
“You really mean it,” she whispered, and ran her thumb over the ring.
“I always will. Now, and when you’ve been Mrs. Jones for fifty years.”
“If you survive for fifty years,” she said, and laughed as she stroked his jaw with a sweet, tender touch before reaching up to pull the cord for the bus to stop. “Let’s get off here.”
He rose to his feet. His knees popped, and he hissed through his teeth. “Back to the hotel?” he asked.
“No, dummy. To the hospital.” She twined her fingers in his. The warmth of the ring pressed into his palm, and she looked up at him with a trust, a need, that he would hold on to for the rest of his life. “Then I’m taking you home…where you belong.”
Epilogue
They’d come full circle.
Brianna stood at the open window of the honeymoon suite of the Lana’i Resort and looked out over the Hawaiian shoreline, the sand brilliantly white beneath the moonlight, the water a blue like midnight suede. The scent of the tropical air was like wine, light and floral with just a tang of salt and a hint of fruity sweetness. She closed her eyes and breathed in with a smile. One night in a hotel had led to so many amazing things.
And now, in another hotel an ocean away, she’d get to spend her first night with her new husband.
No kids. No interruptions. No drama. Just her, Thomas, and the ache that had been building between them since the day he’d proposed.
They’d managed to steal a few moments together. Twining together hastily on her desk in the back office of the Golden Hand Casino. Biting her hand to keep from screaming as they wrapped around each other in the shower, the one place her children seemed to recognize as too sacred to walk in on. Clinging to each other under the covers and praying Katelyn wouldn’t have another nightmare right now, when Brianna was so close—though Katelyn usually did, and so close was never close enough.
She loved her children. But she loved Thomas, too, and right now she wanted to love the things he could do to her.
The suite door opened, and a pile of luggage on two legs walked in, cursing and reeling. Thomas dropped the suitcases with a wheeze. “Good God, why wouldn’t you just let me tip the bellhop?”
“Because he was half your size, and you could use the exercise.”
“Are you saying I’m going soft?”
“I’ll have to find out for myself.”
She pushed away from the window and crossed the room. His arms wrapped around her and jerked her roughly against him with a fierceness that made her instantly wet. No, there was nothing soft about him—and the hardness pressing against her stomach reminded her that she hadn’t had a taste of him since before the wedding ceremony.
He sighed, warm and content. “You know, I was thinking about this right before I met you. All that’s missing is the ice-cold beer.”
“What?”
“Nothing.” He laughed, and the sound rumbled through her until her toes curled. “I’m just being an idiot. It’s my way of saying I’m happy.”
She bit her lip and reined herself in, reaching up to carefully touch his cheekbone. “Your nose looks better.”
They’d taken the tape and bandages off before the wedding, but there was still a slight bump and crook to his nose. She thought it was adorable—but she’d never tell him that.
He grimaced. “I still think my sense of direction is permanently shot now.”
“You’re not a pigeon, navigating with the iron in your nose.”
“No, right now I’m a dog and you’re in heat.” His hands slid up her back. His grin was devilish, dark. “That makes you my—”
“If you finish that, it’ll make me the wife who made you sleep on the balcony.”
“That’s not happening…Mrs. Jones.”
