“We need to read his journal.”
“Yeah,” I whispered as I kissed his chest.
“We lay low for now. We plan. Then when the time is right, we go after them.”
I moved up his body until my mouth was inches from his. “Promise me you won’t let them have you, too.”
“Can’t make that kind of promise, Georgie.”
I closed my eyes and nodded.
He kissed the single tear that escaped. “Babe, I waited ten years for us. I’ll do what it takes to keep us together.” He kissed the tip of my nose. “And only one person can ever truly have me, Georgie, and that is you.”Sunday brunch, four weeks later“SWEETPEA?”
“Rainbow,” Deck replied.
I laughed and smacked him in the chest. He started calling me that when I dyed my hair again. I knew he didn’t like the blue, so I surprised him a few weeks ago. Now, I had pink tips with a few stray strands of purple. “You need a bigger terrace.”
Deck’s brows rose and his mouth twitched which had me standing on my tiptoes and kissing the corners. His arm hooked around my waist and he drew me hard against him. He whispered in my ear and shivers sprinkled like blooming wildflowers across my skin. “Penthouse with a plunge pool not big enough for you?”
I was being sarcastic and he knew it. I pretty much lived here now. Actually, we were looking to rent out my place since I was never there. There hadn’t really been a discussion on where we’d live. It was Deck telling me I was moving in and me conceding because shit, who wouldn’t want to live in a penthouse with a plunge pool? “Not really. Is there something above a penthouse? Something a little nicer. More … I don’t know, classier.”
He snorted and bit the lobe of my ear. “Yeah, it’s called Heaven. And you’re not going there anytime soon. You’ll have to make do with our lowly penthouse.” I loved that he called it ours. He nodded to the terrace where our friends were. “And they don’t mind the new location of our Sunday brunch.”
“That’s because they’re too scared of you to say anything.”
He growled, but it turned into a chuckle.
“Sweet mother of fuck. Deck chuckles? I need to blow a horn. We need an announcement.” Crisis, the bass guitarist of Tear Asunder, sauntered into the kitchen grinning ear to ear. “Guess no more grabbing her perfect ass. Have to make do with Haven’s, only single chick left in the group.”
I laughed because touching Haven was off-limits. First of all, Ream would kill him because Haven was his twin sister and Crisis was a cocky, arrogant womanizer. Secondly, from the limited times I’d met Haven, I was betting she’d snap his neck if he even tried it. The girl was cold, like ice cold, although it was deceiving considering she looked like an angel.
“I dare you to try it, smarty-pants,” I said.
Crisis wiggled his brows and his arrogant grin broadened. “Oh, I did when we got back a few days ago.” He pointed to his slightly bruised cheekbone. “She has one hell of a punch. But I’m good with a little rough and tumble. I’ll be tasting her before the week …” His voice trailed off when he noticed Deck shaking his head and me wincing.
Crisis swore beneath his breath and sighed.
“You fuckin’ go near my sister, you’re dead.” Ream slammed his fist into the back of Crisis’ shoulder. “Shut the fuck up about it, man.”
“Need any help …” Kat came in and stopped abruptly as she looked from Crisis to Ream. Then she sighed, went up to her fiancé and slid her arms around his waist from behind before she kissed his neck. “Baby, get the orange juice.”
I smiled when I saw the tension ease out of Ream. He shot Crisis another glare before going to the fridge, taking out the orange juice and walking back out to the terrace where Logan, Emily, Kite, Vic, Tyler and Matt were. Josh opted out on the invitation and this was the first time Vic and Tyler had come.
Deck kissed me on the mouth then let me go, picked up the tray of fruits and brought them outside. Kat sank down onto a bar stool, smiling with a glimmer of laughter in her eyes. “Girl, I never thought I’d see the day. You and Deck … holy smokin’. Deck always scared the shit out of me. Shit, he still does, even when he kisses you like he’s all sweet ‘n stuff.” She jumped up and down in her seat. “Oh, my God, Vic …” She lowered her voice. “You see those arms? I swear he must have an eight-pack beneath that t-shirt. Almost willing to push him in the pool so I can see them against his wet shirt.” She lowered her voice. “But Jesus, I swear he is—”