Stepbrother Thief(112)

“Thanks,” he murmurs, eyes half-hooded and still focused on me.

I reach over and grab his arm, the hard bulge of his muscle beneath my fingers forcing me to swallow twice to regain my composure before I can let go. Without another word, I disappear down the hallway and deposit our coats on the rack, catching Aveline's eyes from her place at the dining room table. She gives me a wicked half-grin that I ignore as I sneak back and watch from a distance, watch as the love of my life cautiously approaches our daughter and gets swept into the family like he was always there. She's gracious like that, Solène is.

A smile curves my lips as I watch Gill try to measure out a cup of sugar. Those big hands, those tattoos, all of that strength … it's beautiful to watch him work in a different light.

Fucking Karl.

We'll figure this shit out, me and him, because we're a family—albeit one that took a brief hiatus. But that doesn't matter now, never really did matter. I've loved Gilleon for ten years without a hiccup, despite my best efforts not to, so if I'm going to welcome him back, I'm going to do it with open arms.

Family.

We're a family now and I'll do anything for family.



Dear God.

I'm blushing like a teenager on prom night, my hands clutching my bare upper arms, my black lace nightgown shifting in the gentle rush of air from the heating vent above my head. Quickies are one thing … even making love after a serious emotional discussion is easier than this, this casual normalcy.

Fuck.

Gill's sitting on the edge of my bed—shirtless, mind you—and smiling. Not grinning or smirking, just smiling. Despite our conversation, despite the ugliness in our past, this man, this guy who's six foot four and God only knows how many pounds of muscle, he stood next to his daughter and he baked and he spilled powdered sugar on the floor and he sat next to her on the couch while she showed him all of her designs and drawings. My lips twitch. And some of mine. Solène even came up with a plan for our 'studio' downstairs—complete with artful renditions of us pinning gowns together on a dress form.

It's a dream I don't mind sharing with her. In this house. With this man.

I've made my decision and even though Cliff keeps giving me a slight stink-eye, I'm sticking to it. This is it, the thing I've been waiting for forever.

I swallow hard as Gilleon glances over at me, his dark hair shining under the white moonlight from outside our window.

“Are you sure you want me in here?” he asks, his voice light and playful, the shadows on his face just a product of the light, not even a trace of that inner darkness showing right now. “Because if you want to keep sleeping in separate beds …”

“Don't tease or you might just get your wish,” I tell him, knowing that my next conversations with Anika, Leilani, and the whole gaggle of girlfriends I left behind in France are going to be regarding … this. I'm already so not looking forward to any of them. I quirk an eyebrow. “You should be nicer to me. Do you know how much shit my girlfriends are going to put me through when I tell them we're getting back together? Then it won't be Karl you'll have to worry about coming after your ass, but Katriane and her five inch stiletto heels, sharp as blades.”

Gill grins at me and stands up, his flannel pj pants slung low on his hips, teasing me with rock hard abs and the bright shining eyes of the panther tattoo on his right pec. He even looks badass with the fading remnant of that gunshot wound to his other shoulder. Tough as nails Gilleon Marchal. Holy shit, he's sleeping in my bedroom tonight. Tomorrow night. All of our future nights.

I reach up and run my fingers through my hair.

This is going to work. It's going to work and it's going to be beautiful.

The self-talk calms me down enough that I take a few steps forward, bare feet padding across the hardwood floors.

“Can I ask you a question?” Gill says, tilting his head to the side and regarding me as I pause, a stray shaft of silver moonlight falling across my breasts, drawing his gaze down before it slides back up.

“You can ask, but it doesn't mean I have to answer it,” I say, mimicking him as I cross my arms over my chest and lean back. I smell his scent, that spicy bergamot oil breeze that clings to his warm skin like cologne. I want to lick it off. But I pretend I don't give a crap.

“Whatever happened to the ring I gave you?” Gill swallows and his jaw clenches tight with old anger, not at me but at Karl. Or Karl's son. Maybe even his own mother.

I glance up and over Gill's shoulder, out the window and down to the dark chasm where the lake should be. The way the moonlight's falling tonight, I can't even see it. Doesn't mean it's not there though.

“Why?” I ask, glancing at Gill's face again. “Because if you ask me to marry you right now, it's a no.” He raises his dark brows at me and I smile. “But you can certainly date me and consider asking again in, oh, I don't know, two years or so?”