As she glanced around the room, several other couples started dancing nearby. Normally not an envious person, Slash watched as Addison and Hawk, Brit and Rebel, and Emerson and Stryker held each other close and moved as one to the love song.
Carrera appeared next to them, his large frame hijacking her attention. Her heart skipped a beat, then took off in her chest.
“Good to see you,” Carrera said.
Herrera extended his hand. “Brother, it’s been a while.”
“Any chance I could cut in?”
Herrera regarded Slash. “Do you know Carrera Santini?”
“Unfortunately,” Slash deadpanned.
Herrera broke away. “Good to see you, amiga.”
“Same,” she said to Herrera before he took off toward his wife.
“Dance?” Carrera asked.
Slash’s heart was still beating too damn fast. “Ugh.”
With a smile that made her head buzz, Carrera slid his arms around her, pulled her flush against him, and peered down. “I won’t bite.”
“I will, and I have razor sharp teeth.”
“I can take it.”
“You deserve it,” she murmured.
His breathtaking smile sent zing after zing of attraction charging through her, but it was the light shining in his eyes that had always melted her the most.
Things had been easier when he’d been gone. Now that he was back, it was a struggle to even breathe. Her fingers tingled to touch him—run her hands down his striated triceps or granite chest—or stare into those dark, alluring eyes.
Be strong. Do. Not. Cave.
Moving tentatively, like she was about to touch a hot stove, she placed her fingers on his shoulders, and her heart found a home.
“There you go,” he murmured. “Easy does it.”
When her gaze settled on his, every damn thing in her life fell into place. Being with Carrera had once been her happy place. Didn’t matter what they were doing, as long as they were together.
She loved when they’d made Elsa breakfast on Saturdays. Attending Mass on Sundays with them made her feel safe and loved. Another favorite was when she and Carrera played soccer together in Elsa’s backyard. He was good, but she was better. More than any of those, she loved when he’d sneak into her room in the middle of the night and love her.
She blinked back to the moment, the memories of yesterday replaced with the reality of today. He caressed her back, his gaze never leaving hers. It was exactly like it used to be. Like she was the only girl in the world.
But she wasn’t a girl. She was a woman. A woman who’d learned that life doesn’t go according to plan, that it’s critical to have a back-up plan, and that nothing lasts forever. Not the good, not the bad. Everything has a beginning and an end.
“Thank God for Elsa,” she whispered.
He cocked his head. “What about her?”
“Did I say that out loud?”
He nodded. His eyes roamed over her face, over her long hair and long bangs that always seemed to find their way over one eye. With a tenderness that made her heart sing, he moved her hair away from her face.
“I wish I could fix us,” he murmured.
His eyes were filled with a mix of honesty and sadness, the muscles in his cheeks were flexing. He did that when he was angry.
