Page 209 of Fiery Romance

I glance at her. “Speaking of, has Clarissa ever mentioned knowing my brother?”

“No. Why?”

I think of Cody’s strange reaction to seeing the woman on stage at the gala. “Nothing.”

“Clarissa doesn’t talk much about her past. The most she shared is that she was once engaged to an awful guy who took off without warning. I swear, if I ever see that guy on the street, I’d just…” She makes a punching motion.

I chuckle, but inside… I cringe. My instincts are screaming that there’s a story behind my brother’s reaction at the gala. It’s all just a hunch at this point, but my hunches are rarely wrong.

I slow the car down in my driveway.

Island turns to me. “Abe’s at school, right? Is Regan inside?”

“No, she and Ms. Hansley are having a playdate with Belle today. I think Regan likes Alistair’s kid a little more than she likes giraffes.”

“You wanna know who I like more than giraffes?” Island murmurs.

“Who?” I whisper, smiling as her face eases closer to mine.

“You.” She kisses me.

Passionately. Rabidly. Devotedly.

She pulls back, sunshine glittering in her eyes. “Can we please,pleasego inside?”

I hustle out of the car, open her door for her and then scoop her into my arms. Her legs wrap around my waist and her lips find mine again.

It’s bliss.

Pure and utter bliss.

Not only because she’s finally here in my arms, but because she’ll be here in my arms, forever.

* * *

I layIsland on the bed, every bit of me throbbing and aching to be inside her.

On the way to the bedroom, our lips never left each other’s. Even now, I find it difficult to tear my mouth away from hers to undress her.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting to do this?” I growl, fumbling with her shirt as I suck on her neck. “And this is the damn day you choose these ridiculous buttons?”

“It’s called fashion,” she argues, playfully tugging on my ear with her teeth.

I grunt.

She laughs and I can’t help but smile with her, even if I really am annoyed at her fashion choice. These fastens are the type that have to be plucked and then stretched out before the buttons can be free.

Even Island can’t figure it out. Her long nails slip and slide against the ties. “How did I do this again?”

I growl my impatience.

She lifts her eyes to mine and opens her mouth to scold me, but then she snaps it shut as something behind my shoulder grabs her attention.

I know what she’s looking at.

It’s a picture I took of her during one of our nanny interviews. Her back is to the camera. Her long silver hair is flying in the wind. She’s holding tightly to Regan’s hand. The photo of them—in black and white—is pure art.

I could have put a photo of Regan and Abe there, but something stopped me. Desperation. Fear. Devotion. I needed Island close by. I needed it more than I needed to breathe.

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