Page 154 of Cozen

Shit.

Cozen struggled to refuse.

The guy just sat his ass down.

She sat back down, too.

Then, he held out a hand to her, and smiled widely. He showed off straight, white teeth that only added to his gorgeous appeal.

“Hi,” he said.

Cozen took his hand, and he squeezed her fingers softly. “Hi.”

“Sargon Makri.”

“Cozen Taylor.”

“You don’t have a friend coming, do you, Cozen?”

Her breaths ached.

Her body was tired.

She was hungry.

Alone.

Scared.

“I haven’t had a friend coming for me in a really long time,” she admitted.

Sargon’s fingers tightened around hers, and he tugged a little to bring her a bit closer to him. “Could I be your friend, then?”

She hadn’t told him no.

Actually, she told him yes.

He’d taken her home to meet his mother and father—Mia and William Jones. Strangely common American names for people who spoke with a heavy accent, and did their prayers five times a day on beautifully ornate prayer rugs.

And yet, they were the most amazing people she had ever met in her life. People who took her in without question, and gave her all the things she had been missing. Love, a family, and home. They protected her, adored her, and taught her how to do the same for them.

But they were not ordinary people, either.

A family of thieves.

God knew …

God knew Cozen fit right in.

“My little thief—my beautiful woman. You were named most appropriately, Cozen. You took from me; you stole from me; you kept what you took with you. And you won’t ever give it back, now. But that’s okay. You can keep my heart.”

His vows to her had been unconventional.

At best.

And entirely beautiful.

He promised her forever.