by Naima Simone
He shook his head. “After I went to jail, I was wild with pain and anger. But I was also relieved.” Gabriella frowned, and a corner of his mouth curled into a humorless half smile. “I know, it sounds crazy, right? But underneath everything else? Yeah, relief. Because the shoe had dropped. I could stop wondering when the end would happen. And I would also never feel love and the agony of having it ripped away again. In a life that had become chaotic, that I could control. But the moment I saw you again, I realized I’d been bullshitting myself. In that instant, I knew I couldn’t let you in again because you had the power to take me back to that dark place that I’d promised myself I wouldn’t return to. I convinced myself having your body again was enough, that I could be satisfied with just sex, but as soon as you walked out of Lick—no, before you walked out—I knew I’d fucked up.”
He moved forward, eliminating the distance between them. No hesitation. No permission. This was the man who had taught her body to sing to the special, erotic tune he set. The man who made her body implode with pleasure. The man who owned her heart.
Pinching her chin, he stroked the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip. “You asked me if I could forgive you. Yes. You asked me if I could love you again. The truth is, I never stopped. Not loving you would mean not breathing.”
Those tears, those damn tears she’d promised she wouldn’t shed… Well, that ship sailed as one, and then another, rolled down her cheek. With a low murmur, he wiped them away.
“You have a life in Los Angeles, and I don’t want you to give it up for me. Just…” He pressed his forehead to hers. “Let me be a part of it. We can make Boston and L.A. our homes, or you can stay in L.A., and I’ll live bi-coastal. Or I’ll give Rion and Sasha my part of Lick and help you build your dream.” He brushed his lips over her brow. “Please,” he murmured. “Let me share your life.”
“Only if you let me share yours,” she whispered. The last barrier she’d erected around her heart cracked, the many fissures giving way under the pressure of the love and hope that filled her chest. Her soul. For the first time in five years, she felt…whole. Complete. Shivering, she leaned into his mouth, his kiss, his big, sheltering body. “We’ll figure out the details. As long as we’re together, we can make anything work.”
A shudder worked through him and vibrated against her. “Tell me, Gabby,” he demanded.
“Do you know how much I love hearing you call me that?” She cupped his face between her palms and tilted his head down so she could graze his mouth with hers. Scatter kisses over his chin. “Don’t ever call me anything but Gabby, okay?”
“Whatever you want, Gabby. Now, tell me,” he murmured, his tone urgent.
He didn’t have to clarify; he needed from her what she craved from him… “I love you, Killian Vincent. From the age of nineteen, you’ve been my everything, and you always will be.”
With a low groan, he crushed his mouth to hers. She eagerly parted her lips, curling her tongue around his and cherishing his moan, and the press of his erection against her stomach. He was hers, and she let him claim her, brand her as his.
Forever.
“I think we’ve been longer than a minute.” She smiled into the kiss. “Unless you want to face my uncle’s wrath, I think we should get back out there.”
Killian laughed, and for the first time since reuniting with him, the sound contained humor…joy. Brushing another caress over her mouth, he clasped her hand in his. “As long as we do it together,” he said, giving her back her words, her vow.
She squeezed his fingers. “Together.”
Epilogue
One year later
Killian rose from the dark blue leather couch, a glass of champagne in his hand. Music from the club reflected off the glass of the VIP room, white privacy curtains helping to mute the noise. Glancing around, he couldn’t help but smile at the warm glow of satisfaction that settled in his chest. The people he cared about most surrounded him. Rion and his wife, Harper. Sasha and his fiancée, Corrine. And of course, Killian’s reason for breathing, existing…
He extended his hand toward Gabriella, and returning his smile, she wrapped her fingers around his and stood beside him.
“All right,” he announced. “I know you’re all wondering what the secrecy is about.”
“It had crossed our minds,” Rion drawled.
“I was being patient,” Harper said, throwing a chiding glance at her husband of nine months. “Unlike some people.”
Rion leaned forward and whispered something in her ear that had the lovely brunette blushing and clutching his friend’s thigh.
Gabriella snorted. “I think we better get this announcement going before we lose those two.”
Laughing, Killian held his glass of champagne higher. “Everybody grab a glass of champagne. We’re celebrating.”
“Is this about Gabby’s restaurant being named one of L.A.’s top ten dive bars?” Sasha asked, rising with his glass in hand. “Congratulations, sweetheart.” His friend leaned over and placed a smacking kiss on Gabriella’s cheek. “We saw the article online and couldn’t be more proud.”
After only a year, Gabriella’s place—simply called The Dive Bar—had become one of the more popular establishments in the Culver City, CA, area. She and Killian traveled back and forth between the east and west coasts, so she could remain hands-on with her restaurant. And yeah, they were racking up the frequent flyer miles, but the jet lag and constant—sometimes relentless—pace was worth it to see her make her dream come true. As long as he could share in it, like he’d asked in her uncle’s bar a year ago, he was happy.
“Hear, hear,” Corrine cheered, clinking her glass with Gabriella’s. “You know, Gabby, if you decide to open a Dive Bar here in Boston, I would recommend it to all my readers. Girl, you’d clean up.” Corrine, a sports columnist for The Beantown Globe, a popular, local online magazine, had a huge following, and Killian didn’t doubt one recommendation from her would have people packing into the bar.
“I love your belief in me and my entrepreneurial skills, but let me get past the first couple of years first before I think about opening a chain.” Gabriella grinned at Corrine, hugging the redhead. The three women had become fast friends, and while he, Rion, and Sasha were thankful the women they loved got along, the trio could be downright scary when they conspired against the men in their lives. Which was often.
“I almost shit a brick when that article came out, but nope, that’s not why we asked you guys here.” Sliding an arm around Gabriella’s shoulder, Killian pressed his lips to her hair, savoring her sweet, familiar scent. Thanking God he could inhale it every day. “Gabby and I made a pit stop on the way home from L.A. yesterday.” Pausing, he reached in his pants pocket and removed a diamond ring. He slid it on her left ring finger and kissed the jewelry that symbolized his love and commitment to this woman. “We stopped in Vegas and got married.”
Stunned silence permeated the glass-enclosed room for several long moments. Then shrieks of joy—from Harper and Corrine—and lower, but no less enthusiastic, murmurs of congratulations momentarily eclipsed the muted music.
Joy that he could share this moment—his happiness, his bright future—with not just his woman, but the men and women he considered family, filled him to the point of bursting. This—his brothers, the women who adored them, completed them, this business they’d built together, the life they shared—this was peace. Hope. What they’d fought to free themselves from the mob for.
It was perfection.
“See?” Sasha nodded his head toward Killian and Gabriella. “See how simple eloping is? How happy they look? How…unstressed?”
“Can it, Merchant.” Corrine narrowed her eyes on him, jabbing her champagne in his direction. “You want to explain to my mother why she can’t plan our wedding or see her daughter walk down the aisle?”
Sasha gave an exaggerated shudder. “Fuck no. Never mind.”
“Pussy.” Rion snickered.
“Hey, ha
ve you seen her mother with her Irish up?” Sasha demanded. “Screw you. She’s scary.”
“Hey.” Corrine slapped his arm, grinning. “That’s my mother you’re talking about.”
Chuckling, Sasha lifted his glass high. “To Mr. and Mrs. Vincent. Wishing you many years together. No one deserves it more than you two. Love you.”
A chorus of well wishes followed the toast, but as Killian sipped the sparkling wine, he noticed Harper didn’t have a drink.
“Harper?” He arched a glass, glancing from her to Rion, and then returning his attention to the slim brunette. “Everything okay? You don’t like the champagne?”
She smiled, tipping her head back to meet her husband’s gaze as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “No, it’s not that. I just have to forego alcohol for a little while.”
He frowned as Gabriella said, “Why would you… Holy shit.”
“You’re pregnant,” Corrine shouted, shoving her glass into Sasha’s hand before launching herself at Harper. The redhead embraced Harper, and seconds later, Gabriella joined in.
Thrilled for his friend, Killian crossed the floor and drew Rion into a tight hug. As soon as he stepped back, Sasha dragged him into one.
So much joy. So much promise and hope.
A year ago, they’d been fighting to find their feet in the new world they’d created. But it’d been one devoid of love, of family other than their brotherhood. But now their future stood in this room with them.
Love had changed them.
Had saved each of them.
And every day was a gift.
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Acknowledgments
To my heavenly Father. Without You, none of this would be possible. You’re my strength, my hope, my perseverance, and my faith whenever mine takes a bit of a beating. Thank You, and I look forward to partnering up with You on the next one. I love being the backseat driver.
To Gary. You’re my concrete evidence that God loves me. Thank you for your unceasing support, love, and kid-wrangling. It was your faith in me that set me on this path, and I love you for it.
To Tricia. You left this world for the next while I was writing this book. I was derailed a little, but then remembering who you were—are—gave me the strength to keep on. I know you’re up there directing the angelic choir right now. And giving them their note, because no one ever has the right note. :)
To Tracy, aka Super Editor aka boss of the Montoya Mob. :) Thank you for your unending patience and humor. At the sake of getting sappy, you’ve been a blessing to my career, and I just SO appreciate you for your knowledge and experience, your willingness to share both your enthusiasm and your advocacy, and for being you. You are like The Beatles of editing. Montoya Mania. Haah! I’m having T-shirts made up...
About the Author
Naima Simone’s love of romance was first stirred by Johanna Lindsey, Sandra Brown, and Linda Howard many years ago. Well, not that many. She is only eighteen…ish. Though her first attempt at a romance novel starring Ralph Tresvant from New Edition never saw the light of day, her love of romance, reading, and writing has endured. Published since 2009, she spends her days—and nights—creating stories of unique men and women who experience the first bites of desire, the dizzying heights of passion, and the tender, healing heat of love.
She is wife to Superman, or his non-Kryptonian, less bulletproof equivalent, and mother to the most awesome kids ever. They all live in perfect, sometimes domestically challenged bliss in the southern United States.
Come visit Naima at www.naimasimone.com.
Also by Naima Simone
Sin and Ink
Passion and Ink
Scoring with the Wrong Twin
Scoring Off the Field
Scoring the Player’s Baby
Beauty and the Bachelor
The Millionaire Makeover
The Bachelor’s Promise
A Millionaire at Midnight
Witness to Passion
Killer Curves
Secrets and Sins: Gabriel
Secrets and Sins: Malachim
Secrets and Sins: Raphael
Secrets and Sins: Chayot
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