“Let’s go feed you two.”
“You’re going to be an amazing father, babe.” The soft expression on his face melts me; it’s boyish and sweet and I can’t control the need to kiss him. But I do, slow and without the usual frenzy that consumes us. Instead, I savor his taste and the feel of his skin on mine.
No rush. Just soft pecks and sweet caresses until my stomach rumbles, leaving me embarrassed and him smirking.
“What are you hungry for?”
“Italian beef, dry and—”
“Portillo’s, Twirl? That’s your craving?”
“I’d kill anyone for those fries with cheese sauce and a chocolate cake shake. Gimme!”
“If that’s what my girl wants, then that’s what she gets.” Malcolm, throws his legs over the edge of the bed and stands, walking straight for his phone. “I’ll send Carmelo to—”
“Not needed. That should be the food outside now. Gina picked up the order and was asked to leave it outside the door on a rolling cart.”
“You had this all planned out, didn’t you?”
“Guilty.” Widening my eyes, I pucker my lips and fight back the slick grin threatening to cross my face. “Besides, we don’t have time for round two, eat, and be at the airport in another three hours without some snooping of my own, Husband.”
“I’ve taught you well.”
“I’m a quick learner.”
I’m walking toward the love of my life forty-eight hours later, the warm sand beneath my toes grounding me, helping keep my emotions under control as our eyes meet.
Always hungry green to my needy blue.
Always full of love.
Always us.
He’s standing near the shoreline in a simple pair of white linen pants with no shirt, his sun-kissed muscles on display while it’s his smile that warms me.
Malcolm Asher is waiting for me just like last time, except there’s no one playing the piano and no family and friends surrounding us. It’s just us renewing our vows surrounded by nature and a man dressed as a priest with a Bible in his hand.
My hands shake the closer I get, the soft fabric of my light pink maxi dress dragging along the hot sand. The simple outfit was my choice, a little number I picked up during our weekend trip to Mexico a few months back but never got the chance to wear it.
He likes it, though. I can see the appreciation on his face as he takes in my bare face except for the lip gloss on my lips. I feel it as his eyes sweep down the column of my throat, the swell of my breasts, and then the shape of my hips right before the dress flares out a bit.
A soft breeze envelops us the moment I take his outstretched hand. It sweeps across his dark hair and a strand falls over his eye.
I can’t stop myself from pushing it back with my free hand. I don’t pull back, though, and instead, I find myself caressing his face with a feather-light touch when he bends down just enough for me to reach without standing on the tips of my toes.
“I love you, Twirl.”
“I love you, my king.”
A throat clears then, and the priest opens the Bible in his hand. There’s a passage his finger lands on, a blessing or a lesson he’d like to share, but it isn’t necessary.
“I don’t need you to speak.” My eyes are on Malcolm, who looks at me with so much love and pride. Tears come to my eyes, but I don’t let them fall. Instead, I say two words that bind us. Here. Now. Forever. “I do.”
“I do,” my husband repeats, lips now hovering over mine while his arm snakes around my waist. “Until the day I die and after, London Asher. I will always love you and our little nugget.”
1
“I CAN’T BELIEVE we’re finally doing this one. Your dad would love this,” Gem says from behind me, arms wrapped around my midsection and her chin against the center of my back while we wait for the tour to begin. It’s our bloody tradition. A rule no matter what country we’re in or what holiday we’re celebrating; if there’s a whacked-out tour, we’re doing it.
Serial killers. Folklore. And her favorite—the Mafia.
It’s why on a cold-as-fuck Valentine’s in dear old London’s East End, I’ve booked us one she’ll fancy, to say the least: a walking tour with an actor and facts that will have her Googling the shit he spews for the next few days after.
It also buys me time to do a favor for my cousin.
There’s a job he’s interested in, and I’m intrigued as well. It’s out of the normal Jameson operations, nothing to do with drugs or weapons, but will require a bit of both to achieve the end goal. He wants a rare Egyptian artifact, and while I don’t understand why, I bet his left nutsack it has to do with a woman.
“What I do for love, Gem. What I do for love,” I mock grumble for her benefit, and her snorts say I’ve accomplished my job. The sound warms the heart of this arsehole that doesn’t deserve her but thanks God for the privilege of calling her his. “Are you excited about this one? Anything you want me to ask since I know you’ll tell me to do so while the man is speaking?”
“Don’t be an arse, love,” she mimics my accent, and if I didn’t love this woman, I would be offended. Just fucking terrible. “I just have some footnotes to go through as we walk. Whatever he doesn’t explain, you can kindly demand he does.”
I shake my head, holding back a chuckle at the one-word descriptor. I’m anything but amiable. “Kindly?”
Slipping beneath my arm, Aurora looks up at
