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“I promise this one has no tracking device involved.”
My lips lifted.
“I want you to be mine, angel.”
Tears coated my throat, but I held them back, not wanting to taint the moment by crying. I reached out to trace the curve of the angel wing. It was a piece of jewelry I could wear out—a day collar—and no one would know what it meant. But I would. I’d be wearing his mark. And the thought made everything go warm inside me.
“If it’s too soon or too much or you’re not ready or you think I’m crazy or this house isn’t what you . . .”
I grinned and raised my fingers, pressing them against his mouth. “Shut up, Foster. Nervous rambling is my job.”
He smiled beneath my fingertips, but the worry still hovered at the corners of his eyes.
Seeing his uncertainty only made me fall for him more. His hard, dominant side spoke to me on an elemental level, but that tenderness beneath affected something much deeper, filled spaces and corners inside me. I held his gaze, lowering my hand and told him exactly what I’d been feeling for months. “Don’t look so worried. You remember I’m in with love you, right? Like, stupid, crazy, drawing-hearts-in-my-journal in love with you. I want it all, too. Forever, Foster. Us. Like this.”
He was silent for a moment, as if he hadn’t heard anything I said. But then all the starch seemed to leave him.
“Thank God.” He closed his eyes, his tense posture fully deflating before he opened them again. “I love you, too. So much. And I know what I’m asking is a big step. I know it’s a lot.”
I leaned back against the arm of the couch. “Yes, it is a big step. And if we’re sticking to the honesty rule, I can say that I’ve never imagined wanting a relationship like this.”
He nodded, going a bit somber, like he was anticipating the gauntlet.
I reached out and brushed my fingers against his stubble. “Not until you.”
The beaming smile that broke through that five-o’clock shadow of his was bright enough to rival the moon outside. I’d never seen such a beautiful sight. My man, shirtless and grinning, his happiness like pure light. And now I was going to get to wake up every morning to his face, feel that love around me, and be his.
I let the blanket slip off my shoulders, not wanting anything between us, and climbed off the couch. I eased myself down to my knees, all the while holding Foster’s eye contact. Then I lowered my head and presented my neck to him, the submissive move making me feel more in control of my life than I ever had before. Finally, I was on the path of my own choosing. “Merry Christmas, sir.”
“Merry Christmas, angel.”
He gathered my hair to lay it on one shoulder, and I felt the quiver in his hand, the depth of emotion behind the simple caress. And when he fastened the choker around my neck, and the cool curve of the angel wing touched my collarbone, a soul-deep, peaceful calm settled over me, leaving no doubt as to where I most wanted to be.
Never hav
e I ever . . . been this happy.
Turn the page for a sneak peek at the next Loving on the Edge book
NOTHING BETWEEN US
Coming Winter 2015
12:35 A.M.—SPRING
Georgia Delaune had never been particularly drawn to illegal activity. Or taking risks. Or, okay, fine—sexually deviant behavior. She was woman enough to admit what this was. So finding herself hiding in the dark, peering around the curtains of her second-story window with a set of binoculars, should’ve tipped her off that she was officially losing her shit.
But since moving into the house on Fallen Oaks Lane six months earlier, she’d known this moment was coming. Before now, she’d convinced herself that she’d only been catching inadvertent peeks and unintentional glimpses. Her neighbor would surely shut his curtains if he didn’t want to risk being seen, right?
She groaned, lowered the binoculars, and pressed her forehead to the window frame. God, now she was blaming the victim. He gets naked in the confines of his own home. A home that’s on a treed corner lot with tons of privacy and a seven-foot-tall fence. How dare he!
This was so screwed up. What if he saw her? He could call the cops, and she’d be slapped with some Peeping Tom charge—or Peeping Tammy, as the case may be. That’d be an epic disaster. Especially when the cops found no information on a Georgia Delaune. Plus, afterward, she’d have to move because there’d be no facing her neighbor again. Not after he knew what she did at night. And there was no way in hell she was moving. It had taken too much time, effort, and planning to find this spot, to finally feel even a smidgen of security and safety. These walls were her only haven, and she had no intention of leaving them.
But despite knowing the risks, when she saw a lamp flick on and light glow in the window of Colby Wilkes’s bedroom, she found herself dragging a chair over to the window and lifting the binoculars to her eyes. It took a second to adjust the focus, but when the lenses cleared, the broad, wet shoulders of her dark-haired neighbor filled the view. Her stomach dipped in anticipation.
He wasn’t alone.
She’d known he had friends over. She’d seen the group going in when she’d closed her living room blinds earlier that night. Two women and three guys, plus Colby. Later, she’d heard water splashing and the murmuring of voices, so she’d gone into her backyard for a while to listen to the distant sounds of life and laughter. That world seemed so foreign to her now. Being surrounded by people, having friends over, relaxing by the pool. She couldn’t see anything from her backyard. Colby’s pool area was blocked by the house and bordered by trees. So she’d lain in her lounge chair out back, closed her eyes, and imagined she was a guest at his party, that she was part of that laughter. And she’d also found herself wondering what would happen afterward.
