Kit
Page 26
“Yes. And before you say a word, hear me out. The promise I want you to make is not to fight me on this. I’ll keep the loft as an investment, but I want to be with you and as for where, I don’t care. Your house is bigger.”
“Okay.” I’ve got nothing else. He’s all I want and like him, I don’t care if it’s in a shack.
“That’s it?” There’s a triumphant gleam in his eyes, but it’s fleeting, as if he doesn’t trust my easy agreement.
“Yes. I want to live with you more than anything, and I’m glad it’s my place. It is bigger, but if you insisted on your loft, I’d make the move.”
His arms pull me into an embrace and his deep laughter rolls through me. “Oh sure, you say that now that I’ve agreed to your place.”
“I mean it.” I slide my arms around him and bury my face into the crook of his neck.
He kisses the top of my head and holds me tight. We stay like that for some time, the strong sense of belonging and security overshadowing everything else. So much so, I almost forget there’s one more promise.
“Wait.” I reluctantly release my hold, forcing him to move back. “You said three promises, so what’s the third?”
“Oh, yeah. This one is also nonnegotiable.” His fingers smooth the furrow I’m not aware is forming on my brow. “You really have to stop doing this.”
“What?”
“All these trips to the hospital. It’s getting old, and I’m not so sure I can take much more. You have to promise me you’re done with hospitals.”
Laughter tumbles from my mouth and tears spring to my eyes. It isn’t all that funny but it hits me. This ordeal is over, and as much as it was terrifying and I’d never want to live through it again, I came out the winner.
I screwed up years ago and pushed the man I loved away. And while at the time, it was what I felt and all I knew, not knowing how to work through the warring emotions inside of me—loving a man with all I am and hating what he did for a living—I cast him aside. I hurt him. I hurt me. We were both adrift and wandering but not happy, not whole. Until now.
“That’s a promise I’ll readily make.” I plant a kiss on him. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
My stomach flutters as his fingers find their way to the back of my neck. His mouth covers mine and he tilts his head, deepening the kiss and increasing the pressure. Suddenly, the kiss is savage and demanding, curling my toes, stopping my heart, and leaving me breathless.
Epilogue
Three months later
Kit
The blackish water and gray soapy bubbles swirl around the sink drain, once, twice, before disappearing. Grease is a bitch to get off your skin, and this is my third attempt to get my hands clean.
Tap off, I grab the towel and dry my hands and forearms, dropping it onto the counter. The door opens and Caro enters my garage/workshop. It used to be her mini-hospital, but since her home was vandalized and we then moved in together, she insisted on giving me this space. Now it’s my office and garage.
The restoration business is doing really well, and we’re getting ready to showcase the 1934 Ford 3-Window Coupe I bought from Mr. Pinter. It’s hard to believe but that baby is almost done and the old coot wants to buy it back. Yeah, Mr. Pinter, the Ford’s original owner, is willing to spend a lot more money to have the car back.
On one hand, at the time of the sale, I made it very clear to Pinter that if he wanted the Ford back, he’d have to pay fair price. Now that it’s fully restored, the car is worth a lot more and the garage is getting a lot of buzz because of it.
I love it. The new business, my new at home working space. All of it.
The Phoenix is still my main place of work, but on days when Caro’s going into Léa’s Home late, I tend to stick around and work from here. Any chance I get to be with her, I take.
Gone are the days of the clinic. She finally gave up doing double duty and plans are proceeding well for government funding on the Home so she doesn’t have to fret about the salary she now gets.
Elliot and Victor are behind us. They’re both in jail awaiting trial, and I still smile every time I remember Victor was denied bail. He’s a flight risk. Sometimes having money and the means can be a bitch.
Dr. Foley is up on serious drug charges, attempted murder and more, with a bleak future in prison. As for Victor, his role in all this has caused quite a stir in the medical community and on the streets. Not only is he facing a string of charges related to the oxy and the damage and torment he caused Caro, he’s also charged with Flora’s murder and much more. From what Holman says, both cases are solid even if Victor did cover his tracks well.
Once things settled down, the shady detective paid us a visit and came clean on his involvement. While he might not be completely aboveboard, it turns out his ex-wife was hooked on beetle juice and almost died. He’d left her because of her drug abuse but still cared.
During the time of the clinic explosion and the drug enforcement investigation on beetle juice, his ex-wife was in rehab and he wanted justice. He was vague but basically confirmed he pulled strings to be involved in anything to do with Elliot Foley.
The asshole doctor was his only lead. The drive to bring down Foley and ultimately the Beetle was personal for Holman. I can all too easily relate to him.
For me, while the whole thing was a nightmare, I can’t regret it or say I’d change a thing. It’s fucked up to even think it, I know, but I got Caro back.
Who knows, I like to think we’d have eventually found our way back to each other, but the ordeal sped things up. And now, I’m one selfish but ecstatic bastard, cherishing every freaking second with her.
The past is what it is and we can’t change it, but I’m no longer wasting any time.
“You ready?” Caro searches my face before dipping her gaze lower, taking in my casual shirt and jeans. “We don’t have to do this, you know.”
She’s sexy as hell in a plain white shirt stretched over her gorgeous chest and skinny blue jeans hugging her lean, long legs.
“I know, but I want to.”
We’re having dinner with Maggie, Nick, and Willow. Logan was invited but the dumbass left town a few days ago. Like usual, no goodbye. The guy is haunted, and not even whatever is, or was, going on with Willow was enough to keep him in one place.
“Before we go, I wanted to ask you something.” She takes a step toward me, nibbling on her plump bottom lip. It’s her tell and usually means she’s worried, nervous, or both.
“What’s wrong?” I slide my hands around her slender waist, pulling her snug against me.
“Nothing. Why do you think something’s wrong?” She brushes a fleeting kiss to my mouth before attempting to step back from my grasp.
“Oh, no. You aren’t going anywhere.” One hand slides under her chin, tipping her eyes up to meet mine while the other firmly grips her to me. “Maybe you don’t want to go to Nick’s?”
“No.”
“Then what is it? What did you want to ask me?”
“This may seem fast…” She pauses and an amused smile darts across her lips. “Fuck it. I don’t know why I’m nervous. I want this more than anything else.”
I arch a brow, opening my mouth to speak, when she cuts me off.
“Kit, will you marry me?” Her eyes sparkle and cheeks flush a dainty shade of pink. And instead of waiting for a response, she rushes on, “And I don’t mean in the distant future or a big white wedding. I don’t want to wait and I don’t need our friends or flowers and a gown. All I want is you. We have a few days off in a week. Let’s get married in Vegas.”
Her hands clutch at my shirt and her need, the overwhelming desire to spend the rest of her life with me, invades every molecule and every ounce of oxygen in the room.
Despite the heady, euphoric sensation rushing through me, I school my features. Surprised isn’t the right word, nor is shock. Marrying Caro was always my dream. Our marriage inevitable.
My chest hurts,
but it’s the good kind of hurt. The kind where your insides swell to epic proportions, threatening to explode because you’re so damn happy.
“Say something. Tell me I’m not crazy. Tell me you want this too.” She pulls at me as if we aren’t close enough, and her eyes are wide and turbulent.
“You know, I told myself for years that I had to move on from you.” I rake a hand through my hair, brushing away those lonely years.
A frown messes with her pretty face. “I’m sor—”
“Uh-uh, none of that.” I place a finger on her mouth. “I’ve told you, I don’t want your sorrys. You’re forgiven, I swear.” I pry her hand from my shirt, bringing it to my chest and pressing her palm flat against my heart. “What I’m trying to say is, I would have waited forever for you.”
“Kit.” Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears, and her other hand releases my shirt as her hand rises to my face. She glides her fingers tenderly along the stubble of my jaw. “Is that a yes?”
Hope beams from her entire being. She’s my beacon of all that’s good and beautiful in this world.
My lips split into a shit-eating grin, and I slide a hand into the pocket of my jeans, producing a small red box. It sits easily in the palm of my hand and I flip the lid open with my thumb.
A sparkling solitaire winks at me from its perch on a red velvet cushion, nestled in a thick gold band. I’ve had this engagement ring for nearly three months now.
The second we were free of the oxy crap, I bought the ring.
“Caro, will you spend the rest of your life with me?”
Her mouth opens and I bend my head, lips capturing the smallest gasp of surprise from her.
She grabs at me, and our kiss isn’t gentle or hesitant. I’m possessive, greedy, and determined, taking not only her lips and tongue but also her words and love.
My fingers slip into her curls, holding her there as I pull back so there’s only a breath between us.
“So, was that a yes?” I can’t stop smiling. Fucking glowing. I never thought it possible but it’s me.
Tears tumble down her cheeks, tears of joy, and she nods. “Yes.”
My nose rubs against her, warm and soft, before I angle my head and close my eyes, brushing my lashes against hers. She shivers, fingers digging into my sides, and I open my eyes, locking with hers. Her face is flushed and her eyes are glimmering.
“Me too. Yes. I want to marry you.” I kiss her once more, warmth spreading throughout my body.
“Were you going to ask me today?” She beams and I nod.
Caro tilts her head back and her body shakes. Her laugh is bright and pretty and the best fucking sound in the world.
* * *
Thank you for reading KIT! Logan’s story is next, coming soon. If you haven’t read Nick’s story, grab Prophet!
Money is my mistress.
Solving problems, my trade.
Until the tables turn, and trouble finds me.
Now on the run, I need a plan.
But not before I’m blindsided by a pain-in-the-ass stranger.
Maggie.
Curves, startling blue eyes, and she hates me.
I don’t trust her and with good reason.
My plan is simple: use her.
Then I kiss her. Touch her. Crave her.
She was my way out, now she’s my downfall.
One click PROPHET now!
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If you loved KIT and the Scarred Hearts series, you’ll love the alpha protectors in the thrilling New York Knights series, starting with Reckless Night!
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And don’t miss the steamy and emotionally charged Trojan series, beginning with Clutch!
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And if you’re looking for something more fun and sexy, you’ll fall in love with Real Liars!
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Other books by S.M. West
New York Knights Series
Reckless Night
Fallen Night
Captive Night
Relentless Night
Broken Night
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Scarred Hearts Series
All can be read as standalones
Prophet
Kit
* * *
Trojan Series
All can be read as standalone
Clutch
Reverb
Smash
Rush
* * *
The Love Lock Duet
Love Block
Love Lock
* * *
Standalones
Made to Love
Real Liars
About the Author
S.M. West writes contemporary romance, romantic suspense, and whatever her heart desires. She's a self-professed junkie of wine, chocolate and travel and can always be found planning her next adventure!
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www.smwestauthor.com
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