“Just a little.”
“That’s how much I like your song, then. Just a little.” Jackson slides a hand around my head. “Or maybe . . . a lot.”
“You mean it?”
“I love it. I do.”
Those last two words make my heart jump a little more than it usually does around him.
Make my pulse spike.
Make me picture possibilities I never thought I’d want.
I rope my arms around his neck. “At the risk of being a total romantic, you’re kind of all my songs now. You’re every song, every lyric, every damn word.”
He laughs softly. “Who’s the romantic now?”
I wiggle a brow. “Both of us, J. Both of us.”
He brushes a soft kiss to my lips, then says, “Guilty as charged.”
Epilogue
Stone
A month later
Jackson pulls up to my house in the evening—in his Prius. The earth-hugger in me loves that he drives a hybrid. My security system signals that the gate to the driveway has opened, then he enters the garage.
I glance at the clock. It’s seven thirty. He’s been working all day, holding training sessions both in person and online.
As for me, I tried to make a lasagna.
Yup. Ambition, thy name is Stone Zenith.
Also, Kitchen: 1, Stone: 0.
The sound of my guy’s feet on the stairs has me striding away from the stovetop, wiping my hands on the towel slung over my shoulder.
He turns the corner, lifts his nose, and sniffs. “You were in the kitchen?”
“I tried cooking.”
“You tried cooking, or you tried burning?”
“Let’s just say there’s a kale lasagna in heaven thanks to me.”
Laughing, he jerks me close for a hello kiss on the lips. “Babe, what did I tell you? There are phones. They have apps. You order out. You don’t cook.”
I shrug lightly. “That seems to be the case.” I pat my belly. “Want to go and get something to eat?”
“I do. Just let me get changed.” Jackson heads to the master bedroom, where he keeps a few changes of clothes, toiletries, shoes, his laptop . . . In short, tons of shit he needs because he stays over pretty much every night.
Here, where I want him.
He emerges from the bedroom in khaki shorts and a maroon polo that shows off his rippling biceps.
“Mmm. Hello, muscles.”
He wiggles his brow. “I hit the gym today.”
“Good. You can throw me down on the bed later with those.”
“Consider it done,” he says, and we go to a sushi restaurant that has epic veggie rolls and scandalously good seaweed salad. Bonus—it’s not far from my house.
We sit outside, ordering as the sun dips low in the sky, the ocean waves lapping the shore. I meet his gaze and toss him a question that’s been on my mind. “Do you like it here on the beach?”
Jackson shoots me a wry look. “What’s not to like?”
“But do you like being here? You’re here a lot.”
His brow knits. “Do you not want me to be here a lot? At your house?”
I laugh, a little higher-pitched than I’d planned. I settle my voice. “Actually, I kind of want you here all the time.” The nerves fly up my throat. Crazy that I can tell the world I love him, but I’m still a little unsure how to ask for these next steps.
This is all new to me, navigating a serious relationship, wanting to be with someone every single day.
But Jackson doesn’t make me wait for long. “Are you asking me something, Stone?”
I heave a sigh. “You always want me to work for it, don’t you?”
He sets his elbows on the table, drops his chin in his hand, and shoots me a starry-eyed look. “Work for it, babe.”
I lean closer, reach for those big hands, and clasp them in mine. “Will you move in with me?”
His answer is swift. “Yes.”
It’s so very him. Simple. Direct. Honest. I grab his face and plant a kiss on his lips, tugging on the bottom one.
I blink when a bright light shines on my face. Breaking the kiss, I snap my gaze to the left.
The paparazzi.
No biggie.
It’s part of life. I give them a wave, since I know some of these guys. A bearded guy nods a hello.
I call out to him. “Feel free to post this—Jackson Pearce is moving in with me.”
The guy gives a thumbs-up. “Thanks, man, for the scoop.”
Jackson sits back in his chair and laughs. “You love telling the world, don’t you?”
“I really do.”
What can I say? I like letting everyone know where I stand with the guy in the picture.
Jackson
Six months later
We finish a tactical training session at our corporate offices, and then it’s time to go for the night. Terrence, Cruz, and I head out together.
After we lock the door, Cruz raps his knuckles on the doorframe, something he often does for luck.
“Business is going great, guys,” he says.
Terrence taps his chest and points to the sky. “May it continue that way.” He gestures to each of us. “Softball game this weekend?”
“I’ll be there,” I say.
“Me too. Marisa and Isabella are coming to cheer us on,” Cruz adds, mentioning his wife and daughter.
“Tell Isabella I’m going to practice Spanish with her at the game,” I say.
He switches languages and tells me, “She loves it when you do that.”
We head out to our respective cars and our respective homes. When I reach mine in Venice, a jolt of excitement slides down my spine.
Stone returned home this afternoon after a three-week tour in Asia. He wanted me to join him for those twenty-one days, but I wasn’t able to get away.
And holy hell, did I ever miss him. It’s the longest I’ve been away from him since I went to work for him.
We talked, texted, and Skyped, but there is nothing as good as getting my lips on my man, something I plan to do in mere minutes.
Once I’m home, I bound up the steps, unlock the door, and head inside.
“Stone Zenith, you better get your sexy ass over here. And right now.” My voice booms across our home.
His laughter answers from outside. “Balcony, you horn dog.”
I stride across the tiled floor to the open sliding-glass doors. Lounging on the patio couch, reading a paperback, is Stone. The sun is setting, and it’s a gorgeous sight. He’s reading a book, shades on, shirt off.
Home.
I join him on the couch and cover him in kisses.
It feels so good to have him back. I tug him against me. “I missed you.”
“Missed you so much too.”
I nuzzle his neck, growling against him. “Need to have you.”
“You better have me,” Stone says. “Also, I pregamed, so I’m ready, and the lube’s on the table.”
I laugh. “I love that you’re so wound up that you’re good to go.”
“I want you right here, right now. Gimme some balcony banging, J.”
That’s a favorite of his.