“Looks like the dress is a loss,” Sam said, sidling up next to him.
Kade smiled. “She doesn’t care. Onward. That was always her motto. Nothing gets in her way when she’s on a mission.”
“I wonder where she gets that from, Stalker Boy.” Sam nudged his shoulder with hers.
“Hey, knock my method, but it worked.” He held up his left hand and waggled his ring finger.
“Yes, it did. Which is why I’m attempting the same method with your brother, just so you know.”
“Good. He could use someone like you around. Whip him into shape.”
She smirked. “And with me that’s not a figure of speech.”
“Daddy!”
The shout from across the room drew their attention toward the front. Rosalie held up a cookie. “Look, we have a swap out, just like on the cooking shows.”
“Excellent,” he called back.
He and Sam watched Rosalie finish up with the group then his little girl came running over to him, wrapping her floured hands around him when she reached him. “Is it time for the music yet?”
“The band’s not for kiddos, Spark. Plus, it’s getting late. Your mom is probably waiting for you.”
Her bottom lip flipped out in a full-force pout. “But daadddy, you said I was going to be able to go to your house.”
He crouched down in front of her and ruffled her hair. “Next week, Spark. Your room is all ready for you, and you’ll get to stay there every other weekend and spend a whole month with me and Ms. Tess in the summer.”
“You promise?”
“Cross my heart and pie in my eye,” he said solemnly, crossing his finger over his chest in an X.
That sent her into a grin and chased off the pout. “No, daddy, that’s not how it goes.”
“Cross my eyes and hope to cry?”
“No!” She fell into a fit of giggles and he lifted her into his arms.
“Come on, Spark. I promise this is the last time we’ll have to end our visit early.”
She hooked her little arms around his neck and gave him a tight squeeze. “Thanks, Daddy. I don’t want to have to miss you all the time.”
The words were bittersweet, but a lightness filled his chest as he carried her toward the parking lot. No more sad good-byes. “That makes two of us, baby girl.”
Tessa caught sight of them as they walked through the party and she came over to give Rosalie a hug. Rosalie slid out of Kade’s arms and gave Tess an enthusiastic squeeze. “’Night, Ms. Tess.”
“Good night, chickadee. Thanks for coming to my party.”
“Welcome.” Rosalie stepped back from the hug and gave Tess a serious look. “My mommy and Chris are going to have a baby.”
“I heard that,” Tessa said with a smile. “That’s so exciting. You’re going to be a big sister.”
“Yeah, I guess. But mommy said it might be a boy.” Rosalie made the gag me with a spoon face. “Are you and my daddy going to have a baby, too?”
Tessa’s eyes went big and she gave Kade the oh-dear-God-please-help look. “Uh . . .”
Rosalie put her hands on her hips. “’Cause you better have a girl. No brothers, okay?”
Kade had to press his lips together to hold back the laugh. “Okay, enough questions and demands for the night, Spark. Let’s get you home.”
He left a speechless Tessa behind him and got Rosalie to her mom. By the time he made it back to Tessa, the band had come on stage and the party was in full swing. He let her do her thing, taking care of the guests and directing the staff. He couldn’t get enough of watching her in her element—his successful, smart wife brimming with confidence and pride over a job well done. He was more than happy to stand on the sidelines and let her bask in the accolades everyone was giving her. And he almost burst with his own pride when she presented the huge check to the team from Bluebonnet Place. The charity would want for nothing for a long while.
But after the last song was played and the last guest had wandered off for the evening, he was ready to claim what was his. He stepped up behind her as she was gathering a stack of brochures from a table, and she relaxed into his hold.
“Leave everything here and come with me.”
“But I have to—”
“Hush.”
She turned in his arms and looked up at him, warmth brimming in her gaze. “Sorry, sir.”
He grabbed her hand. “It’s time to go.”
Her brows pinched together, but she let him lead her forward, trusting him to guide her into whatever he had planned. That subtle submissiveness never failed to tug strings inside him. He still couldn’t believe the universe had given him this gift. She was his. His.
“May I ask where I’m going, sir?”
“Nope.”
“Are you going to be with me?”
“Yep.”
She leaned into him, and he slipped his arm fully around her. “Then that’s all I ever need to know.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the words seep into his skin, the rightness of it all soak into his bones. The world had never felt so big and bright and full. The girl he’d dreamed about, angsted over, and lost so long ago was here. Loving him.
His perfect match.
Turns out that bitch, Fate, knew what she was doing after all.
He couldn’t wait to see what she had in store for them next.
Keep reading for an excerpt from the next Loving on the Edge novel by Roni Loren
NOTHING BETWEEN US
Coming soon from Heat
12:35 A.M.
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 just 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 tree-lined corner lot with tons of privacy and a six-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 Tomasina, 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 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 hum 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, relax
ing 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 had 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.
Now she knew. Colby had stepped into his bedroom, obviously fresh from the pool with his dark hair wet and only a towel knotted around his waist. And he had company with him. One of Colby’s friends, a tall blond guy who was also sporting a towel, had followed him in. And then there was a woman. She wore nothing at all. Georgia’s lip tucked between her teeth, heat creeping into her face. She so shouldn’t be watching this. But she couldn’t turn away. She’d learned rather quickly that her dear neighbor, despite his affable grin, Southern-boy charm, and straight-laced job, was a freak in the bedroom. Threesomes were only part of it. After her last relationship, it should’ve turned her off, sent her running. Guys with secrets. Fuck no.
But the first time she’d caught sight of Colby bringing a flogger down on a lover’s back, Georgia had been transfixed. She’d been completely stuck on her latest writing project at the time. But after watching Colby drive a woman into a writhing, begging state, Georgia had gone into her office, opened a new document, and had written until the sun had broken through the curtains the next morning. Before she knew it, her thriller-in-progress had taken a decidedly erotic turn. Thankfully, her editor had loved the new direction. So now Georgia, in her guiltiest moments, told herself these stolen moments at the window were all in the name of book research.
Yeah. Even her sleep-deprived brain didn’t buy that one.
The guilt wasn’t enough to make her stop, though. Especially now when Colby was grabbing for the knot on his towel. She held her breath. The terry cloth fell to the floor at Colby’s feet, and everything inside Georgia went tight. Holy heaven above. She’d watched—oh, how she’d watched—but never before had she been able to see everything in such intimate detail. The binoculars transported her, took her by the hand and dragged her into that room with those strangers. Colby was right there in front of her—strong, beautiful, aroused. His hand wrapped around his cock and stroked ever so slowly, taunting her with unashamed confidence. No, not her. The woman. God, Georgia should look away. But need rolled through her like thunder from an oncoming storm, her fingers tightening around the binoculars.
The other man had stripped, too, and although he was gorgeous in his own right with his polished, movie-star good looks, Georgia was drawn to the rough-around-the-edges brawn of her neighbor. Every part of Colby hinted at the wildness he hid beneath his surface—dark wavy hair that was a little too long, the ever present stubble that shadowed his jaw, and a body that looked like he could bench press a Buick. He was the opposite of the pressed and creased, Armani-clad businessmen she’d been attracted to in her former life. He was the guy you’d be wary of on first glance if you ran into him in a dark alley—the cowboy whose hat-color you couldn’t quite determine straightaway.
Perhaps that was why she was so fascinated with him. She’d learned that danger often hid behind the gloss of an urbane smile and perfectly executed Windsor knot. Colby had none of that. But regardless of the reason for her attraction, she couldn’t stem the crackle of jealousy that went through her as the other man laced his fingers in the woman’s hair and guided her to take Colby into her mouth.
The view of Colby’s erection disappearing between the lips of some other woman was erotic. There was no denying that. But it also made Georgia’s jaw clench a little to hard. She could tell, even from the brief moments she’d been watching, that this woman was with Colby’s friend. They were a couple and Colby the third party. But it still activated Georgia’s He’s mine, bitch! reflex.
Georgia sniffed at her ridiculous, territorial reaction, and tried to loosen the tension gathering in her neck. Sure, he’s yours, girl. You can’t walk down the street without swallowing a pill first, much less go on a date if he was even interested in the weird, spying chick next door.
But she shoved the thought away. She didn’t want anything tainting these few precious minutes. This wasn’t about dates. Only when she stood at this window did she feel even a glimmer of her former self. This was her gossamer-thin lifeline to who she used to be, to the capable and confident woman who would’ve never hidden in the dark.
Before long, the blond man eased the woman away from Colby and guided her toward himself, taking his turn. Georgia lifted the binoculars upward, finding Colby’s face instead of focusing on the scene between the other man and his woman. What she found lurking in his expression wasn’t what she expected. There was heat in Colby’s eyes, interest for sure, but as she stared longer, she sensed a distance in those hazel depths. Like he was there with them but other . . . separate. Alone. It probably was only because the other two were a couple. Or maybe it was just Georgia’s mind slapping labels on things to make herself feel better. But regardless, it made her chest constrict with recognition. She didn’t know what it’d be like to be in a threesome. Or how it would feel to have a lover kneeling at her feet like he did. But she knew loneliness. And for those few seconds, she was convinced Colby did, too. She pressed her fingertip against the cool glass of the window, tracing the outline of Colby’s face. Needing to touch . . . something.
The glass may as well have been made of steel, the yards between the houses made of miles.
But she couldn’t walk away. The night went on and there she sat, watching the three lovers move to the bed, the woman being cuffed to the headboard. The two men lavished her with hands and mouths and tongues. It was like watching a silent symphony, the arching of the woman’s back the only thing Georgia needed to see to know exactly how these men were affecting their willing captive. The melancholy feelings that had stirred earlier had quickly been surpassed by ones much more base and primal. Georgia could feel her body growing hot and restless, her panties going damp.
When Colby braced himself between the woman’s thighs and entered her, Georgia trained the binoculars on his face, unable to handle the image of him having sex with another woman. Her mind was developing quite the ability to focus on the fantasy and block out the unwanted parts. She only had a view of Colby’s profile, but she watched with rapt attention as his jaw worked and his skin went slick with sweat instead of pool water.
Without giving it too much thought, she braced one elbow on the window ledge to hold the binoculars steady and let her other hand drift downward. Her cotton nightgown slid up her thighs easily. Somewhere her brain protested that this was wrong—sick and sad. She had a perfectly functioning vibrator in her bedside drawer. She had an imagination strong enough to fuel an orgasm without doing this, without watching the man next door screw another woman. But her starved libido didn’t seen to give a damn about morals or ethics or pride right now. There was need. And a solution. Simple as that.
As Colby’s lips parted with a sound she could only imagine, Georgia’s fingers found the edge of her panties and slipped beneath the material. Her body tightened at the touch and the little gasp she made reverberated in the dead silence of her bedroom. Colby’s head dipped between his shoulders, and Georgia imagined it was her he was whispering passionate words to. That deep Houston drawl telling her how good it felt to be inside her, how sexy she was, how he was going to make her come. He would be a dirty talker, she had no doubt. No sweet nothings from Colby Wilkes.
She closed her eyes for a moment as she moved her fingers in the rhythm of Colby’s thrust—long, languid strokes that had a fire building from her center and radiating heat outward. It wouldn’t take long. Her body was already singing with sensation, release hurtling toward her. But she wouldn’t go over alone. She forced her eyes open, the binoculars still in her grip, and found Colby again. His dark hair was curling against his neck, sweat glistening at his temples. And she knew he had to be close, too. Every mu
scle in his shoulders and back had tensed. All of her attention zeroed in on him, and in her mind, the touch of her own fingers morphed into his—his hands and body moving against her, inside her.
Every molecule in her body seemed to contract, preparing for the burst of energy to come. Her breath quickened, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. And right as she was about to close her eyes and go over, Colby jerked his head to the side toward the window. His hazel gaze collided with hers through the binoculars—a dead-on eye lock that seemed to reach inside Georgia and flip her inside out. He knows.
But she was too far gone for the shock to derail her. Orgasm careened through her with a force that made the chair scrape back across the wood floor. She moaned into the quiet, the binoculars slipping from her hand and jerking the strap around her neck. The part in the curtains fell shut, but she didn’t notice. Everything was too bright behind her eyelids, too good, to worry about anything else but the way she felt in those long seconds. Enjoy. Don’t think. Just feel. The words whispered through her as her fingers kept moving, her body determined to eke out every ounce of sensation she could manage.
But, of course, the blissful, mindless moments couldn’t last forever. Chilly reality made a swift reappearance as her gown slipped back down her thighs and sweat cooled on her skin. She sat there, staring at the closed curtain and listening to her thumping heart. Colby couldn’t know, right? His gaze had felt intense and knowing because the binoculars had made him seem so close. But her window was dark, her curtains darker, and the moon was throwing off enough light that it would make the glass simply reflect back the glow.
But her chest felt like a hundred hummingbirds had roosted there, beating their wings against her ribs. She wet her lips and swallowed past the constriction in her throat. She had to look. Would her neighbor be striding over here to demand what was going on? Would he be disgusted? Embarrassed? Angry?