It feels so good, and I've missed him so desperately, that I do cry-soft tears that he kisses away, whispering words of reassurance, stroking my cheeks with the rough pads of his thumbs.
I give him a watery smile when we break apart.
"You didn't mess anything up," I tell him, smoothing my hand over his hair. "You're perfect. I love you, sunshine. Exactly how you are."
He lets out a lengthy sigh and rests his forehead against mine. "Thank Christ for that." His strong fingers grip my hips. "Tell me again."
"I love you, Gabriel Scott."
His smile is so sweetly pleased, I have to kiss it, taste it.
"Once more," he demands. "I'm not certain I heard you correctly."
"I love you, Gabriel Sunshine Scott!" My shout earns a couple of stares and a few chuckles.
Gabriel grins like it's Christmas morning. "I love you too, Sophie Chatty Girl Darling. More than you'll every know."
I pepper him with kisses because he's here, and he's mine. "I'm sorry I ran off. I'm sorry I didn't explain myself right away. It hurt you, and I never want you to hurt."
"Thank you," he says between my attacks on his mouth. But then he holds me still by cupping my cheeks. "I am rather annoyed about one thing, however. How could you have thought I'd send you away?" His gaze warms, but his expression is solemn. "You're my life, chatty girl. It has no joy without you in it."
Sweet man. I'm keeping him forever.
"I was afraid," I admit with a cringe. "Afraid that you meant more to me than I meant to you. I wasn't thinking very clearly."
"Neither of us was."
With a sigh, I kiss his brow, his cheek, wherever I can. "Why is it that we're so very good at talking and so very shitty at fighting?"
Because there's a difference between our bickering and when we're really mad. I don't have to explain this to Gabriel. I know by the amusement in his eyes that he understands me perfectly.
He nips at my earlobe. "Maybe it's because we hate fighting and fall to pieces when we try. Truthfully, I'd rather wear polyester suits for the rest of my life than have another row with you."
I gasp. "Don't even joke about polyester!"
He chuckles against my skin, the sound sending little shivers of pleasure dancing down my body.
But then he grumps again. "And of all the places you have to go. Australia?"
Guilt twinges in my belly. I was so stupid leaving. "I needed to clear my head."
"Clearing one's head means taking a walk. Not going to the opposite side of the planet." He eyes me with suspicion, but his expression is too happy and content for him to pull it off properly. "I'm beginning to think you wanted to torture me."
"I was about to get off the plane to find you, Sunshine. Because being away from you is torture." Which is the absolute truth. "So reassess that comment."
As he hums dubiously, I snake my hand down his body to cup him. A choked gasp has me grinning. "Besides," I say, giving him a light squeeze. "I have better ways to torture you."
His hand settles over mine. "Behave yourself, Darling." But he doesn't move my hand away.
I feel him grow thicker against my palm. "I still can't believe you got on a plane to Australia," I say, subtly kneading him beneath our joined hands.
He shifts a bit, nudging up into my touch. "It's my grand gesture, as Killian says. If you don't understand how much I love you after this, there's nothing for it."
Smiling, I press my lips against his arm. "My grand gesture is going to be giving you head at some point during this flight."
His cock twitches as I stroke it, and his voice comes out a tad rough. "Sexual acts on a plane are illegal, Darling."
"Then you'll have to be very quiet while I suck you."
I love the strangled sound in his throat and the way his dick goes rock hard against my palm, despite his weak protests.
"Sophie," he says, returning to the stern tone I love. "You never actually gave me an answer."
"Mmm?" I stop my exploration and meet his gaze. He waits, one brow raised, a muscle ticking on his jaw. "Oh, you mean the ‘cocked up' proposal?"
"Darling … "
"I'm going to want babies," I tell him with a smile. "And to dress them up as Princess Leia or Han Solo on Halloween."
His answering smile is so pleased, the look in his eyes so anticipatory, that it makes me a little dizzy. "I look forward to giving you babies. And I vote for a Spock costume."
"Okay. Then you can dress up as Han Solo and I'll be captured Princess Leia in that little gold bikini."
"I love you," he declares in a rush. "So very much. The luckiest day of my life was when I sat next to you on that plane."
With a happy sigh, I snuggle closer. "I'm going to marry you, Gabriel Scott."
He releases a breath and presses his lips to the top of my head. "And I'm going to love you until the day I die, Sophie Darling."
"You know," I say. "If I take your name, I won't be Darling anymore."
Gabriel swoops down and captures my mouth. The kiss is slow and just a little bit dirty, his tongue plunging deep. I'm lightheaded and needy when he pulls back. The hot, knowing glint in his eyes doesn't help.
"You will always be my darling," he says against my lips. "My Sophie darling."
Epilogue
Gabriel
"I think I'm going to refer to this house as The Shoebox," Sophie calls from the terrace.
She has a point. The bulk of the house is one long, clean rectangle jutting out toward the harbor with glossy wood floors, soaring ceilings, and retractable glass walls that let in the breeze. Compared to being stuffed in a plane, this airiness is paradise, as far as I'm concerned.
Following the sound of her voice, I find her leaning against the reinforced glass rail that runs around the terrace. Behind her, Sydney Harbor glitters in the fading evening light, its iconic bridge and-if you squint-the white sails of the opera house visible just to the right.
But I only have eyes for Sophie, her curvy body golden and tanned, the breeze picking up the ends of her hair and sending them dancing about her smiling face.
Sophie's hair is pink now. She tells me it's the color of true love and pure passion. It looks more like cotton candy to me, but I'll never tell her. I've learned at least that much about women along the way. And besides, I'll always equate Sophie with delicious treats, so her hair color is fitting in that regard.
I move behind her and wrap my arms around her shoulders. Her skin is cool, and she nestles back against my chest with a sigh.
"I still can't believe you bought a house here."
"Twenty fucking hours in a plane to get to Australia. You'd better believe I'm taking my time about going back to London. We might as well be comfortable for the interim."
"Hey, a good many of those hours were spent fucking, so it couldn't have been that bad."
This is true. Struggling to be quiet, and the fear of being caught, made for some truly spectacular make-up sex. I'm such a fan now, I plan on bickering with Sophie tonight in some public place so we can find a way to do it again.
"You know, I might be cured of my fear of plane travel," I tell her, bending to kiss the curve of her neck. "However, we'll have to conduct experiments on our return trip to make certain."
Sophie nudges her sweet arse back against my waking cock. He stirs, wanting to say hello.
"I hear there's a first-class flight that now has a full shower on board." Her hands reach back and slide up my hips. "That could be interesting."
"Sod it, let's shower now," I demand, inching up the hem of her skirt.
Rye's voice breaks through my happy bubble. "Oh, God, my eyes. They burn."
I sigh against Sophie's skin. "Why did I invite them here again?"
"Because you love them," she whispers against my cheek.
"I love you. I tolerate them."
"I want the old Scottie back," Whip whines.
Sophie laughs at that.
"Jesus," I grumble. "They're all behind us, aren't they?"
She cranes her head to look around me. "Yep. All of them."
"Scottie has left the building," Jax tells them. "You now have Gabriel to contend with, and he appears to be a randy bastard."
At that, I smile, because he isn't wrong. "It'll happen to you too, John."
"Don't count on it."
Poor sod, he doesn't know what he's missing.
Finally, I turn and tuck Sophie against my side. Jax, Rye, Killian, Liberty, Brenna, and Whip have all managed to leave their appointed rooms and congregate in the massive living room.
Killian and Libby are tucked up on the sofa as Brenna hands out some sort of fruity-looking cocktail. They've taken over my house. And it isn't uncomfortable or strange to see. It feels right. It feels good.
Rye and Whip appear to be bringing out a small drum kit and portable keyboard. Only then do I notice that Jax and Killian have their guitars.