Page 126 of Not Mine to Keep

He poked me right back, and then his finger skirted beneath the little red material, catching the underside of my breast. “I may have a belated birthday gift. It’s sort of for the both of us.”

“Oh.” Not what I’d been hoping for. We’d spent the last few weeks “dating” to truly get to know each other, since we’d done things backward, thanks to Armani. And the man had dated the fuck out of me. Boy, had he ever, but didn’t he know by now I didn’t care about gifts? He was all I wanted. “Why are you smiling like that?”

“Because you’re pouting, and it’s cute.”

“You like me pouting, huh?” I caught my lip between my teeth, and he dragged his finger down to my belly button almost hidden by my high-waisted shorts.

“You make it as sexy as I make the eye-roll thing broody,” he teased. “But I think you’ll like the gift. Well, I hope you will. I was going to wait until we were back at our place tomorrow, but now feels like the time. And I’m not patient, as my therapist keeps reminding me.”

He’d been seeing his therapist once a week again, and although I didn’t feel the need to see anyone myself, because I felt better than ever, I knew I had the option and the support from Alessandro if I ever wanted to.

“Okayyy, well, what is it?” I playfully lifted my brows a few times. “Lay it on me.”

“Close your eyes, and I’ll give it to you.” His tone was the perfect amount of husky and commanding he always managed to pull off. Like sin sweeping under your skin but without the guilt and only the pleasure.

“Yes, sir.”

“Open your palms,” he ordered once I complied.

I did as he asked, and he set something nearly weightless on my palm before curling my fingers inward. “Okay.”

I opened my eyes, but when I went to unfurl my fingers, he stopped me, covering my hand. And I only just now realized he wasn’t wearing his wedding band.

“The rings at the ceremony were from Armani. The wedding was—well, everything was because of him.” I met his eyes, my heart pounding hard at the realization my pout had been truly unnecessary. “I washoping you’d marry me again and make everything ours. Marry me becausewewant to.”

I couldn’t see clearly anymore. My glossy eyes unleashed the tears momentarily trapped there.

“In your hand are our new bands that I picked out in the hope that you’d say yes.”

I blinked away more tears as he opened my hand and took both rings from my grasp. He shifted it to show the inside of the plain band, bringing it closer for me to see an inscription.

“X squared,” I whispered, and a little laugh-cry fell from my mouth as emotion choked me up. “You ...” I basically grunted the word. When I looked at the inside of his band, I shook my head at only anXengraved there. “I see what you did there, and I’m going to—”

“But I love you more. Always.” He leaned in and brought his mouth to mine.

“Not a chance.” I kissed him back, allowing him to take over, like he was so damn good at, nearly forgetting we weren’t alone out there, but no one bothered us. We were in our little bubble. “When do you want to remarry?” I asked once his expert tongue left my mouth, and I dropped my eyes back to the rings.

“August is next month. It was our deadline for divorce. How about we make it our month to get married instead? Maybe have it in English, too, so you know what you’re really getting yourself into by marrying me.”

I brushed the pad of my thumb across one ofhistears. My teddy bear. A total softie with me. But still the man who hunted bad guys as a side gig. And maybe it was no longer an addiction for him—which was good—but he was who he was, and I wouldn’t change him. Because I fell in love with this man. And screw Armani; there could be light without dark, and our love was proof of that.

“I love the idea,” I finally answered. “But what am I supposed to get a man who has—”

“Everything?” His smile met his eyes that time. “I do have everything, but”—he peered at my notebook—“I’d love to hear you sing one of your own songs. That’d be the best belated birthday and pre-wedding gift I could think of ... and, well, maybe to let me sink my mouth between your thighs later and eat you out. That’d be great, too.”

I laughed and melted at the same time. “I guess I could handle that.” But first, the song. I handed him the rings so I could open the notebook to my messy handwriting. “The songwasgoing to be called ‘Not Mine to Keep.’” I let go of a shaky, slightly nervous breath. The wordnotwas now scratched out at the top. “I only came up with the title weeks ago while still dealing with writer’s block.”

“And now?” He touched my forearm, urging me to look at him.

“Writer’s block is gone, and the song is now ‘Mine to Keep.’”

“I love it.” His brows drew tight. “Sing it for me?”

“Out here?” I looked around, aware again of our surroundings and all the people there.

“Hmm. Maybe I don’t want to share it with others for the first time.” He stood and offered me his hand and helped me to my feet. “Let’s go inside.”

“We’ll wind up making love in your parents’ house again.”

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