Page 78 of Game Changer

“Not one,” I nip her earlobe then whisper, “Sugar Tits.”

“I’m gonna start a tally of how many pokes you get to the ribs when you’re all better.”

I laugh against the back of her head and decide now’s just as good a time as any.

“Was gonna save this for tomorrow, but since I’m a certified badass now, I’ll stop being a little bitch who’s afraid to say what he feels and wants, knowing it’s to the right person, and it’s cool if you’re not ready yet, but I know without a doubt?—”

“Beau—”

“I love you, Sydney. Love with no strings, and for no other reason than that’s what my heart, my fucking soul, have been telling me since I laid eyes on you.”

“Don’t you dare stop because I couldn’t?—”

“Never.” I kiss her.

Against my lips, she says, “I love you, too.”

“Touchdown!” I whisper-yell.

I woke up this morning to an empty bed and found my girls and Molly downstairs, finishing up a three-layer traditional wedding cake.

“You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?” I ask, pressing a kiss to Syd’s forehead.

“GiGi Molly maked a pretty cake, Daddy.”

“My bad.” I wink at Syd, who smiles up at me, all fresh-faced and happy.

“One chocolate with salty caramel for you, pink velvet for me, and chocolate peanut butter.” Lily claps her hands.

I now know that is one of Syd’s favorites.

“How are you feeling?” Molly asks, washing her hands.

“Good. Better than I did yesterday morning. Think my fever’s gone.”

“Probably the antibiotics they gave you helped with whatever bug we’ve all been sharing.”

“I’m not going to complain, that’s for sure.”

After last night, I’m sure there will be no complaining in this relationship. I’m still flying high from the taste of her and the feel of her tasting me. From now on, it’s gonna be like a twenty-four-hour all-I-can-eat-buffet, and I am fucking here for it.

“Let me get a look at your wound, and then you need to get going, young man, so the girls and I can get ready.”

Standing inside the stone building, I see an SUV pulling in and smile, knowing it’s the car I hired to drive the family for the week. Mom balked at it, of course, but my brothers love this shit. Hell, at their age, I did, too. Now it doesn’t mean shit really.

“That your kin?” Grimes asks.

I look at him. “Mykin?”

“Isn’t that what Southerners call your family?”

“The Southerners and Shakespeare.” I shake my head.

Logan is at my side. “How’s the arm?”

“There’s a hole in it,” I joke.

He chuckles. “The pain?”

---