Page 81 of Just a Friend for the Lion
Not athanks but no thankssmile.
A real one. Bright. Soft. Hopeful.
Which means maybe—just maybe—she loves me back.
Fuck, I sure as hell hope so.
The rest of the night? A blur of dancing, food, and way too much noise. My drivers are tipsy, Uncle Uzzi is holding court like a sparkly, meddling dictator, and my mother stormed out hours ago with her pride bruised and her schemes blown up.
But none of that matters.
Because MJ is here.
In my arms.
And she hasn’t pushed me away.
We dance. We laugh. We bump shoulders with her sisters and their mates.
And every single second I have her pressed against me, every sway of her hips against mine, I know I’ll never survive losing her again.
Then—finally—her eyelids dip half-mast, those warm eyes gleaming brown and gold at the edges like they always do when the matebond hums strongest between us.
She leans close, her lips brushing my ear.
“Let’s get out of here,” she whispers.
I freeze. “You mean it?”
Her answering smile damn near kills me.
“I mean it, Carter. I think it’s time you and I were alone so we can talk. Don’t you?”
Talk.
Sure.
I nod, because yes, I want that. I want to answer her questions, clear up every bit of confusion, and tell her a thousand times that she’s mine.
But hopefully? Talking isn’t the only thing we’ll be doing tonight.
My Lion rumbles in agreement, already pacing inside me, ready to show our Kitten exactly what forever feels like.
Her hand fits in mine like it’s been waiting for me all along.
I squeeze it gently, but inside, I’m a fucking mess—heart pounding, Lion pacing, desperate to get her upstairs before anything else ruins this night.
“Tony,” I bark over my shoulder, my voice gravelly. “Lock up when everyone’s gone.”
The Gorilla Shifter gives me a knowing grin. “Sure thing, boss.”
I don’t wait for more. I tug MJ toward the back of the garage, to the staircase that climbs up to my loft.
My private space. My den.
No one comes up here but me.
And it feels right because she is the only other person I want inmy home.
