Page 266 of The Wright Man

"Now..." he said, turning the key in the ignition. "Where to, love?"

I smiled, staring at the road ahead, windows down and heart wide open.

"Just drive. I'll know it when I see it."

Chapter Forty-Seven

Angelica

We stepped out of the tattoo shop just as the sun started its slow descent, casting the whole block in that soft, golden-hour glow that made everything look a little more magical than it probably was. The air was warm but not heavy, the kind of temperature that kissed your skin instead of clinging to it. My arm throbbed, a slow, satisfying ache under the fresh film wrapped around my shoulder.

I winced dramatically, cradling it like I'd just been shot in combat. "I swear to God, that needle was touching my bones. That wasn't ink, Maleek. That was trauma."

Maleek threw his head back and laughed, the deep kind that always made my stomach flutter. "You were in there acting like they were amputating your arm, not giving you a quarter-sized tattoo."

"You try sitting still while a stranger etches a permanent flower into your flesh and tell me how relaxed you are," I shot back, clutching my arm like I'd been in the trenches. "Anyway, it's cute as hell, so worth it."

He grinned and leaned in, brushing his lips gently against the top of my bandaged shoulder.

"OW!" I yelped, hopping to the side. "Maleek! What the hell!"

He didn't even flinch—just slid his hand around my waist, fingers pressing into the dip of my hip. "You're always cute when you whine," he murmured, voice low and smug and entirely too effective.

"You're gonna be cute when I push you into traffic," I muttered, even as my cheeks burned and a smile tugged at my lips.

He just opened the truck door for me, all gentlemanly, like he hadn't just kissed my fresh shoulder wound. As I stepped up onto the running board, his hand landed on my ass with a light pop, followed by a soft squeeze.

I turned and glared at him over my shoulder.

"Helping," he said innocently. "Just making sure all that ass got in there safely."

I shook my head, but I was smiling as I settled into the warm leather seat. The heat had soaked into it all day, radiating through my thighs as the engine hummed to life beneath us. The truck smelled like clean soap and faint cologne—his scent—already wrapping itself around me like a second skin.

I touched my shoulder gently, then glanced at it in the side mirror. Even through the protective wrap, I could see the outline of the sunflower, bold and delicate all at once, with a sharp little "M" sitting proud in the center. My chest swelled.

"God, I'm obsessed with it," I murmured.

Maleek glanced over as he pulled onto the road. "Same," he said, gaze flicking down to the compass on his bicep—it had an "A" nestled right in the heart of it.

I leaned over, kissed his cheek, then rested my hand on his thigh.

"I love you, Maleek."

"I love you too," he said, not missing a beat. Just simple. Steady. Soaked in everything.

His hand drifted from the gear shift to my knee, then higher, resting just at the hem of my skirt. His thumb rubbed slow circles against my skin, and I was floating.

The windows were down just enough to let the breeze sweep through, tangling in my curls. Soft R&B played low from the speakers—old school Maxwell, something smooth and smoky. I tilted my face toward the fading sun, let it warm my skin like a benediction.

Then I turned back to him and reached across the console, cupping his jaw in my hand.

"I love you," I said again, quieter this time. Like it was just for him.

He smiled, slow and crooked and sunset-drenched. "I know, baby. And I love you more than I knew I could."

My heart did a full somersault. At the next red light, I leaned over and pressed another kiss to the corner of his mouth. He exhaled, low and dangerous.

"You keep kissing me like that, we ain't gonna make it to the surprise," he muttered, hand tightening slightly on my thigh.