She ran her tongue over my nipple then, biting it a little when it got hard. I felt her hand glide down my stomach, her fingers wrapping around my already-stiff cock. “You’re cheating,” I said on a sigh.
“What are you gonna do, Officer? Cuff me?”
That was the last thing she said for at least an hour. Well, unless you count moans and the screaming of my name.
It was a damn good hour.
Now we’re here at my sister’s wedding. Sloane insisted that Tommi be a part of it. They got close fast. Which is good since they’re the two most important women in my life. I’m not really surprised, though. I knew that Sloane would love Tommi once they met. Once she gave her a chance.
Now, two months later, here we are, healthy and happy and whole, surrounded by the most important people in our lives, and I’m watching her walk toward me, wishing it was us joining our lives together today.
Her sparkling green eyes meet mine and hold them over the spray of lilies she’s carrying. She winks. I almost laugh out loud. She says it drives her crazy when I do it to her. Thought she’d show me. Give me a taste of my own medicine. My heart fills up to the point of bursting and I think to myself that as long as I have her, I’ll be all right. Better than all right.
We fought for each other, bled for each other, even died a little bit for each other. We never gave up. Even when it hurt. And it was worth it.
I always knew it would be.
EPILOGUE- TOMMI
Four months later
I reach up to touch the blindfold around my eyes. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see,” Sig says. I can hear the grin in his voice.
I rest my temple against the headrest, facing Sig even though I can’t see him. I don’t have to be able to see him to recall every detail of his strong profile. though. Everything about him, even when I can’t see him, oozes strength and power. Protectiveness and possessiveness. After Lance, I never thought I’d like that in a man, but Sig isn’t just any man. He’s my man. And all that is for me. Because he loves me. That makes all the difference in the world.
The verdict was handed down on Lance Tonin today. Guilty on all counts. He was convicted on drug charges that Chaps and Trip’s brother, Davey made stick (all with the help of Travis’s testimony). He was convicted of several of a mixed bag of other felonies like collusion, conspiracy to commit murder, obstruction of justice and a whole slew of other goodies they discovered that Lance was involved in. For all of that, he’ll be going to prison for the rest of his life. At least. Sentencing is next week, but my body didn’t wait for that to fully relax. From the moment that Sig swept me off my shaky legs in the courthouse parking lot, I’ve felt free. Finally. Fully. Free.
The truck slows and Sig cuts the engine. “I’m coming around,” he announces and then I hear the door open and close. I wait, a happy little smile playing with the edges of my lips, until I hear him open my door. “Come on, beautiful. I’ve got something to show you.”
He scoops me up, cradled against his chest, and carries me until I feel him dip down, one hand messing with something. I hear a key slide into a lock and a knob jiggle as it turns. A thrill of anticipation ripples down my spine. I can only hope that wherever he’s taking me is private. Very private.
The smell of polyurethane assails me. Sig’s footfalls echo as he walks, making a light tapping sound. I can almost picture the hardwoods beneath us. The acoustics change from hollow and empty to cozy and muted, as though we’ve entered a smaller or fuller room.
Sig sets me on my feet. The heels of my shoes sink into plush carpeting. “Where are we?”
“Home.”
“Home?”
Moving around me, Sig stops at my back and gently unties my blindfold, dragging it away from my face. “Yes, home,” he whispers at my ear from behind me.
It takes my eyes a few seconds to adjust, but when they do, my mouth drops open in awe. I’m standing in the center of a big, beautifully appointed master suite. The carpet is cream, the walls are sand and the enormous king-sized bed is covered in a thick apricot duvet. Pillows in shades of peach and rust and chocolate are piled high toward the head and a luxurious mink throw is draped over one corner. On the windows are dreamy sheers and on the mahogany chest and dresser that matches the bed are candles of every size and shape. The flickering tips bathe the room in a warm, romantic glow and play over a beautiful painting that hangs above the bed. It’s of a woman, sitting on a delicate stool in front of a vanity, brushing her golden hair. Her face is visible in the oval of the mirror. The reflection is mine. My face.
I turn to Sig. “Sloane?”
His lips quirk. “Who else? You know I didn’t paint it. Or decorate in here.”
“It’s beautiful,” I breathe, awestruck. Turning, I reach up to wrap my arms around Sig’s neck. “Where are we?” I ask again.
“I told you. We’re home. If you want it to be, that is.”
“Did you buy this place?”
“I did. It’s the house they were building near my sister’s neighborhood, the one where you said you could imagine kids playing in the yard.”
I can perfectly recall the house he’s speaking of, with its gabled roof and picket fence. “Y-you bought it? For us?”
“I bought it for you.”
“But why? Why would you do that? Do you even like this place?”
“Honestly, I could care less. It’s a house. It won’t be a home until you’re here. But now?” He looks around at the room, his eyes straying to the picture above the bed, the one of me. “Now, I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be.”
I gnaw on my lip as I think of what this could mean and of how I might screw it up. But then I feel a finger tug at my lip, freeing it from the prison of my teeth. “What?” I ask when I see Sig staring down at me.
“Stop worrying.”
“I’m not worrying.”
“You are worrying.”
I sigh. There’s just no hiding things from a cop. There’s just not. “It’s so beautiful here, but what about…what about…”