Page 49 of Gilded Kisses

After signing the leather book for Magnolia, she left. Instead of waiting to hear what they thought about me agreeing to sign and stay, I headed for the shower. An hour later there was dinner waiting for me, a clean T-shirt and a pair of silk black panties in a lingerie box with white tissue paper and a pretty gold seal. A nice touch they probably thought would earn them lots of brownie points. Viper, no doubt, foresaw me swinging the door open like some damsel in lust, falling into his waiting arms and kissing him madly.

The onlyfallingI did was into my pillow and now I have a major case of bed head. That will teach me to face plant with wet hair, but I didn’t care at the time. I didn’t even bother with the steak and salad dinner. I couldn’t. The idea my father is out therehunting me down with the help of Joseph and his merry band of fuck ups has me nauseous.

I have no job, little money and no escape plan now. I can’t contact Harlon. I know without a doubt my father is waiting for me to do just that.

I brush at the tangles of my hair with little hope. Abandoning the idea of fixing my mistake without a real brush, I reach for the light. When a bulb springs to life from the other side of the room, I jump. Gold instantly spills in all directions. I move my feet to hear the shuffle of cotton beneath the large comforter. I swear you can fit ten people shoulder to shoulder on this bed.

I swallow a gasp and try not to show just how freaky it is to find all three men around a table opposite the bed.

These men are cloaked in an aura of danger. It follows them everywhere they go and here, alone with them it seems to only grow. Yet I feel no danger, only protective energy, I realize.

I push back until the headboard is at my back.

“There’s nowhere to run, baby girl,” Mirsha warns seductively.

The rich sound of his masculine voice reaches for me. Caresses my senses.

I murmur a soft laugh. “Oh, I’m not running from you.” I’m making sure I have something solid behind me for when these beasts pounce.

I’m not a fortune teller, but I can read body language.

Mirsha has lost his shirt and settles his weight on his elbows when he sits forward. With his substantial weight pitchedforward, it will not take much for him to be across the room and be on me.

Thick forearms lead to thicker biceps and well-defined shoulders. Scars serve as signs of a dangerous life. Some are thin, white lines while others are thicker. A few I recognize, others are new.

I can’t make out too much detail, but I can see he’s gotten new ink, too. His age has always been a factor that drew me to him since way before it should have. Tonight all of his forty-nine years show. Not in aged lines or gray hair. But in the world-weary look in his eyes. He’s experienced nightmares and those fine lines around his eyes say as much. He learned to mask his emotions long before I could walk. I know this about him. The same is true for Luther and Viper. But tonight, I sense no shields, walls or facades to decipher.

For the first time, I witness each of them in this newly exposed and unbound state.

And it hurts my heart. Not only can I see raw intensity practically shimmering around them. But I can feel it too. Emotions that are not mine dig into the fabric of my being.

Looking between them, each hardened criminal has their hearts on their proverbial sleeves for me to witness.

It’s beautiful and humbling. But leaves my insides trembling for all the wrong reasons.

Go to them, my heart cries. But my common sense says stay where I am.

It’s a hard game of tug of war I don’t want to play. If I could have my way, I would fall between their knees, but if I do they win. Allthree of them will know they can hurt me, yet always have a way back in. So no. If I don’t stand up for myself now, then there will be no hope for something more with them. Given I can untangle myself from my father’s crushing grip. There’s still that can of rot to deal with.

“Sei bella come una stella cadente e come intoccabile.”

I used to love it when Mirsha spoke his family’s language to me. Even after all this time, the roll of Italian off his tongue sends my pulse racing.

Sitting up fully, I tuck my bare legs close to my chest and wrap my arms around my knees. “You have a beautiful voice. What does it mean?”

“He said you are as beautiful as a shooting star. And just as untouchable.”

Luther’s shirt hangs open when he moves from the sitting area toward me. Graceful movements reveal a nice view of all those dark dips and contours of a well-maintained physique.

Fucking. Lickable.

Finely tailored pants move with his steps and cling in just the right spots to tease me with what is underneath the expensive material. He’s elegant in a word. But it’s the way his belt buckle hangs free that has my fingers balling into the duvet. If he comes closer, I don’t trust myself to keep my hands where they belong.

Viper and Mirsha’s eyes don’t leave me as I slowly reach for Luther’s outstretched hand.

So much for keeping my hands to myself.

He pulls me to my knees. Warm skin glides beneath my palms as I slip my hands beneath the lapels of his open shirt.

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