by JB Salsbury
I grip Kingston’s arm a little tighter. He looks down at me with a knowing smirk.
“I feel like I walked through a magical door,” I say, noticing that everyone else seems to be in the same state of awe.
Everyone except Kington.
He only has eyes for me. “Better than I imagined,” he says softly.
“What?” I want to look at him, but with every step we take that brings us deeper into the space, I see something new that snags my attention.
He presses his lips to the side of my head. “Your reaction.” The confident tone in his voice piques my interest.
“Hold on.” I stop us in our tracks. “Did you do this?”
His answering grin and shrug remind me of a boy in love—shy, bewildered, and a little bashful. “They asked for my input, and I know how much you love the snow.”
“Kingston,” I say breathlessly. “You did this… for me?”
He plays with my fingers before bringing my knuckles to his lips. He holds my gaze while he kisses each one and whispers, “You’re my muse. My inspiration. Everything I do is for you.”
I blink back tears, determined to save my mascara.
“Oh, Bee…” He pulls me to his chest and puts his lips to my hair. “Don’t cry.”
“I’m not crying.” I discreetly tap at the corners of my eyes and sniff. “I’m fine.”
He plucks a clean, silk hanky from his pocket and hands it to me.
“I’m serious. I’m good.” I take the square of fabric and do a little more damage control. “I must’ve…” I dab a little more. “Got something in my eye.” I tuck the handkerchief into my clutch. “I’ll just hold onto this in case something else, ya know….”
“Gets in your eye?” he says through a poorly restrained smile.
I throw my shoulders back and gather myself. “Oh, look, there’s Jordan!”
He puts his hand on my lower back and keeps it there even after we join Jordan, Alexander, and Hudson as they lounge at a bar table. Jordan looks stunning in a white strapless cocktail dress, and the men all look like they’ve just come from a Millionaire Men of Manhattan calendar shoot in their suits and perfectly sculpted hair.
“Gabriella,” Hudson says and leans in to kiss my cheek. He doesn’t shy away from my scarred side like most people do. I kind of love him for that. “You look incredible.” His warm eyes never leave my face.
“I live with the best stylist in New York.” I lean into Kingston for effect.
“Next door.” He pouts. “You live next door to the best stylist in New York.”
“Still holding out on moving in together, huh?” Jordan smiles into her cocktail glass.
“She is,” Kingston answers and snags two champagne glasses from a waiter who is carrying them on a silver tray. He hands me one. “Unfortunately.”
“Then why are you always waking up at her place?” Alexander scowls at his brother.
“Because he sleeps over every night.” I sip my champagne because I know where this conversation is leading.
“Every night?” Hudson says.
“I mean…” Kingston looks around the room and shrugs. “Yeah.”
Alexander’s glare tightens. “Then what are you pouting about?”
“All my things are in the other apartment.”
“The other apartment that you plan to turn into a closet,” I add.
The group of three share confused looks.
“So you are basically living together.” Jordan raises her glass. “Congratulations!”
I toast her. Alexander and Hudson join, but Kingston rolls his eyes and tries not to smile. “So much for getting them on my side.”
“You know…” Alexander slips his arm around Jordan’s lower back and pulls her to his side. “If you want to live with her officially, why don’t you ask her to marry you?”
I watch Kingston closely, anticipating his response.
He throws back the rest of his champagne in one gulp. “Tried that, too. She’s holding out.”
“One year,” I clarify.
“One year,” he repeats with a little attitude.
“You’re such a baby,” I say.
“The North boys are used to getting what they want.” Jordan eyes her husband, who seems amused by her observation.
“Isn’t that the truth,” I say.
Kingston cups my jaw and brings my face around to his. “I’m here instead of at home. Your Oscar de la Renta dress is on your body rather than in a pool at the foot of your bed.” He leans in and kisses my throat, my neck, and bites my ear. “I’m way over here instead of buried deep, deep inside you.”
My whole body breaks out in goosebumps.
“I think I’m very good at doing what I don’t want, because if I had my way, we would not be here, and you would be buck-ass naked.” With a gentle kiss, he backs away and faces his family with a totally unaffected smile.
Meanwhile, I lean into him and hold on for dear life until the tingling feeling all over subsides. “Holy shit,” I whisper. “What time does this shindig end again?”
“Not soon enough,” Kingston says through a satisfied smile.
“Here comes the Grinch,” Jordan says and nods in the direction of Hayes.
With a black suit and scathing fuck-you scowl, he moves through the crowd, and, as if sensing the demonic presence, people instinctively step aside and clear a path.
“My God, look at him,” I say in reference to his expression, which would make a child cry. “Does he ever lighten up?”
Jordan sighs. “Not lately, no.”
“He’s been touchier than usual, that’s for sure.” Hudson sips his champagne, a look of genuine concern on his face. “I think he needs a vacation.”
“You’d have to lock him out of the building to get him to take one.” Kingston pulls me close as Hayes approaches.
I paste on a fake smile since I can’t muster a genuine one for the prick.
He’s just feet away when out of nowhere, a woman darts into his path. She came out of the crowd so quickly that she couldn’t have seen him coming. The speed with which she was moving combined with the determination of his steps causes a collision and the thump of two bodies slamming together.
The woman yelps. Her drink, something red and slushy, a daiquiri, drips down his crisp, white dress shirt. “Oh, my God.” Her fingers tremble at her lips. “Mr. North, I am so sorry. I didn’t see you—”
“Gillingham.” Hayes growls the single name with a feral glint in his eyes and a clenched jaw. “You really are a waste of oxygen.”
“Whoa,” Kingston says, racing to the woman’s rescue. He puts a hand on Hayes’ chest as if to hold him back. “It’s cool. Shit happens.” Kingston recoils and shakes daiquiri from his hand. “Don’t worry about it, okay?”
Hayes’ hateful glare is still aimed at the woman, even as her tears make black streams down her face.
Jordan scurries up to her, and with a gentle hand, she guides her away from the gawking crowd. “How about we get you cleaned up and get you a new drink.”
Ever the predictable asshole, Hayes watches the woman until she disappears, only then redirecting his anger at Kingston.
He shoves past his younger brother to his twin, who seems slightly amused by the whole thing. “Give me your shirt.”
“What?” Hudson chuckles.
“Look at me,” Hayes says. “I’m covered in fucking slushy or whatever this…” He plucks at the fabric and sniffs. His expression twists in revulsion. “Smells like spring break in Florida. Jesus.”
“Hey, at least it’s red.” I make no attempt to hide my joy at Hayes’ humiliation. About time he got a taste of his own medicine. “’Tis the season.”
“Shut up.” He tugs at his tie.
“Why don’t I mop up the mess with your face?” Kingston wraps me in his arms from behind and kisses my head. “Or I’ll hold him down, and you can kick him in the nuts, Bee.”
I look up at him, and he takes advantage
and kisses my lips. “Maybe another time.”
He shrugs. “Whatever you want, baby.”
“Daniel Marquis is here. He’s going to see me like this and think I’m a filthy drunk.” Hayes unbuttons the top two buttons on his shirt. “I need to talk to him tonight and see if I can seal the deal on—”
“It’s a party.”
His eyes dart to mine. “So?”
“And it’s Christmas.”
He shrugs and looks to his brothers. “What am I missing?”
“She’s implying this is a social event, not a business event.” Alexander’s expression implies he’s annoyed that Hayes isn’t picking up on the obvious.
“Your shirt,” he says to Hudson. “A thirteen-million-dollar contract depends on it.”
“Alright, you stubborn fuck,” Hudson says and hands off his drink to the closest waiter. “Let’s go change.”
“But then your shirt will be stained pink,” Alexander says to Hudson.
“I have no one to impress.” He flashes a handsome, white smile. “Besides, like Gabriella said, ‘tis the season, yeah?”
“Dumbass,” Hayes growls and stomps off toward the restrooms.
Hudson grabs my hand and squeezes. “Sorry about him. He really is the hardest person to like.”
“Keep your hands to yourself, or you’ll lose ‘em, bro.” Kingston turns me into his arms and away from his brother’s touch.
Just then, Jordan rejoins us, alone. “Poor girl. Hayes has really done a number on her.” Alexander hands her a fresh drink that he grabbed from a waiter. She thanks him and takes a healthy gulp. “She was pretty drunk, going on and on about how Hayes is the devil.”
“She’s not wrong,” Alexander says.
“Nope.” I agree.
“She’ll be okay. I got her a water and a coffee and found her a quiet place to sit and sober up.”
“The night is young,” I say and tug on Kingston’s hand. “Let’s dance.”
He lifts a brow. “I thought you needed more than one drink before you grope me on the dancefloor?”
“I do not grope.” I pull him toward the music. “I’m a high-contact dancer.”
“You grope.”
“You love it.”
He spins me around and pulls me into his arms. “I love it. And I love you.”
I slide my hand down the back of his coat and squeeze his ass.
His eyelids lower, and he pulls me flush to his body. “We’re leaving in thirty minutes.”
“Deal.”
Kingston
I’m in my favorite place in the world.
Lying on my back, Gabriella naked and straddling my hips, my hands on her boobs, and my hard-on buried in the warm, wet grip of her body. There is no place I find more peace, more beauty, or more inspiration than right here, gazing up at the woman I have loved since the day I saw her crossing that busy Manhattan street.
I rub my thumbs in circles around her tight nipples as she slowly rises and falls against me, over me, consuming me.
“I changed my mind,” I say through panted breaths.
“What?” My words seem to pull her from a dick-daze. She blinks down at me. “…changed your…”
“Mind. Yeah.” I slip my thumb into her mouth and watch her suck it before I drop it back to her nipple.
She moans and jerks her hips. The sensation sends a zap of pleasure up my spine, and I hiss at the feeling.
“I don’t want to move in anymore.”
She freezes. “You don’t?”
“No.”
“Why not?” Her shoulders slump.
I roll her to her back and continue the movement, picking up the strokes where she left off. “I don’t want to live above where I work anymore.”
“Okay.” A tiny frown tilts her lips, and I kiss those sexy downturned lips. “Where will you go?”
“We.” I change the angle to hit that sweet spot, deep inside.
She gasps.
“The question is, where will we go.”
“Why are you talking so much?”
I brace my elbow on the bed and pick up the pace. “I can multi-task. I was thinking we should get our own place. Together. I’ll rent these apartments out, and we can start in a place of our own. Something we pick out together.”
“Are you,” she breathes heavy, her body tightening, prepping, so close, “saying you’re… evicting me?”
“Huh…” I think about that. “I guess I am. But together—”
Her tongue slips into my mouth, and she rolls us back over so I’m on my back. She keeps her mouth on mine and rides me hard, robbing me of my voice, my ability to think, erasing all cognitive thought and leaving me with nothing but the building pleasure that coils tightly at my spine.
I go first. Right over the edge, I spiral. Drop. A free-fall that sends my stomach into a delicious twirl.
She throws her head back, arches her back, and follows after me. I watch in stunned awe as she falls apart. She collapses on my chest, her face in my neck, her breath on my skin. I could stay like this with her forever.
“Now,” she breathes, “what were you saying?”
“We should get a place together.”
She puts her elbows on my pecs and rests her chin in her hands. “You’re never going to give this living together thing a rest, are you?”
“No.”
Her eyes narrow. “You’re a stubborn man, Kingston North.”
“You love me for it, right?”
She sighs and drops back to my chest. “I do. So much.”
“So? What do you think? If we start looking now, it’ll be months before we get into anything, maybe longer.”
A little shiver slides up her body, and I kick myself for not considering how cold she might be. I take the comforter and pull it up over our bodies, making sure to tuck it in around her.
“I’ll agree on one condition.”
Her mention of a condition reminds me of how I got her to promise she’d give me an hour that night on the boat. Would she take it back now if she could? Would I? If I knew what we’d have to go through to end up where we are right now, bodies connected, confessions of love and a future, would I risk giving all this up to save her from that night? It’s my turn to shiver. “Sure, whatever you want.”
“Marry me.”
Everything stops. Every single life force inside me hits pause. “Say again?” I croak.
She lifts her head, and her gaze is steady, sure, determined. “I’m asking you to marry me.”
“You’re proposing?” The second I hear the words, I want to suck them back into my lungs because clearly, she is. And holy fuck... She’s proposing! To me!
When she pushes to sit up and glare down at me, I know she was hoping for a better response. “Kingston North, are you thinking about it?”
“No!”
She gathers the blanket around her body as if needing the shield more than the warmth. “I thought we were on the same page. You always talk about our future like it’s a forgone conclusion—whoa!”
I tackle her to her back and smother her with kisses. I kiss her hair, her hairline, forehead, eyebrows, her cheeks, her nose, her lips, ears, throat, chest. She giggles and squirms beneath me. “Yes! Bee, fuck yes. Absolutely. No questions asked. I will marry you.” The heat in my eyes intensifies, and I risk losing whatever manliness I have in this moment by bawling like a baby.
I lower my mouth to hers and kiss her with everything I’ve got. Everything I feel—joy, possessiveness, and bewilderment. Unworthy of her forgiveness, of her grace, and of her love, I pour my gratitude into the kiss. No, it’s more than a kiss. It’s my vow to love, cherish, and put her before all else as long as we both have air in our lungs.
I roll to her side and cup her jaw while my thumb traces her scarred cheek. “I’m going to make sure you never regret the decision to be my wife.”
She covers my hand with hers. “I know you will.”
I feel my mouth pull into a huge smi
le. “We should go dress shopping. I know a great designer. He’s the next big thing in bridal gowns. Tomorrow, I’ll—”
She presses her finger to my lips. “Slow down. We have plenty of time to figure all that out.”
I kiss her finger and bite the pad. “Your dad is going to kill me.”
“I don’t care what he thinks.” She slips her hands around my neck and pulls me over her. “I don’t care what anyone thinks but you.”
We kiss and kiss and make love slowly.
Whispered words of devotion and promises of forever.
Nothing about our story is typical. We’re breaking all the rules.
Rebelling against the norms and saying fuck it to anyone or anything that gets in our way.
Our love is chaotic, riddled with old wounds and shared scars. Battle worn and tested. And most of all, enduring.
Acknowledgments
Thank you to all the readers who have taken a chance and picked up one of my books. I know you have millions of choices in romance. I am honored you chose Rebel North.
I don’t know what I would do without the incredibly talented Rose Holub at Read by Rose Proofreading. She manages to find all the little slip ups that everyone else misses. I swear she’s magical. You’re a lifesaver, Rose! Thank you!
My deepest gratitude to the dynamic threesome that helped me bring Kingston and Gabriella to life. Natalie, Claudia, and Amanda—I couldn’t do this without your wisdom and honesty. Thank you.
A double-down thank you to Amanda at Pixel Mischief Design for another stunning book cover and gorgeous graphics. My CCO, you are the visual heartbeat of my brand and I am forever grateful.
Thank you to the Social Butterfly PR team for working so hard to help me get Rebel North in front of some new eyes.
A huge thank you to all the bloggers, Bookstagrammers, and reviewers who shared Rebel North and read early. You hold our fragile book world together. Thank you.
