Love the Way You Lie(63)
These jewels belonged to my mother, but they were gifts from my father. Bought with money from booking and prostituting and shaking down other criminals. And then Kip’s father stole the jewels. So who’s to say who they rightfully belong to?
“Clara,” I say.
Kip raises an eyebrow. “A legacy?”
“We won’t tell her how they came to be here. Just that they’re all that’s left from our mother. And they’re for her. She can buy herself a mansion or travel the world. Whatever she wants to do.”
He picks up a ruby pendant, blood-red against his tanned skin. “And you? What do you want to do?”
“I wouldn’t mind traveling.” I look down at a crack in the sidewalk. No flower grows up between it. This isn’t a place for miracles. But I’m wishing for one anyway. “Mostly I want to stay in the house with the yellow curtains and the old books.”
He takes me into his arms, hands circling my waist, pulling me close. “Not much of a legacy for a mafioso’s daughter.”
I look into his eyes—this man of hard muscles and tattoos, of leather and chrome, of heart and honor. “We’ll make our own legacy.”
He brushes his lips across my cheek…my jaw…and lower. “I like the sound of that.”
“That wasn’t a euphemism.”
“Mhmm.” He’s got a very hard legacy pressed against my stomach now, rocking gently.
“Kip, we’re outside. In daylight.” At least the afternoon hour means the club is closed for business. Ivan grumbled about the hassle of it all, tearing down the fountain and the money it will take to put it back to rights, but he backed down again under Kip’s quiet demands. I suspect he has some dirt on Ivan actually—and isn’t above using it.
Some things run in the family.
Like the fact that I’m just fine with that. This bounty rightfully belongs to my sister. And for once, finally, I know I did the right thing in running. I know she’s better off in the spare room in Kip’s house, going to college, and then making her way free of the ties of her past.
As for me, I have my own bounty. And that is definitely a euphemism.
His hand slides under my skirt, pushing up. Anyone passing by could see far more skin inside the club during open hours, but I’m done flashing them. Done taking my clothes off for anyone but Kip.
“The roof,” I gasp as he licks and bites at the tender skin where neck meets shoulder.
“Let’s go.”
He is my tiger, with his quiet way of ruling and his dark stripes, his code of honor and wildness. Beautiful and free.
The End