White Knight (Dirty Mafia Duet, #2)(14)

“You’re mine,” I whisper against her lips as I wrap my arms around her.

“And you’re mine,” she says. “I’m sorry—”

I nip at her bottom lip to stop her. “You apologized. I accepted. Now we move on. No more dirty little secrets, baby. Promise me.”

Her forehead tilts to press against mine, and a shiver travels the length of her body. “I promise. How are you real? You should—”

Her head falls to the side as I grind into her center.

“Fuck you so hard that you have no choice but to fall asleep in my arms and not be able to sneak away in the morning? Yeah, that’s my plan.”

She goes quiet, reaching up to thread her fingers through my hair. “No matter what happens, I won’t ever regret this, because I got to have you.”

I don’t like the fatalistic tone to her words, so I shut her up the best way possible—I kiss the hell out of her until she’s pinned to the bed beneath me, and my hands rove freely. I memorize every curve of her body, every mole and scar and imperfection, because I want to know everything about her. Every detail, every story, every wrong turn she’s ever made.

If I thought I was fucked before, I was wrong. I was fucking blessed.

With her moans in my ears and her nails digging into my shoulders, I make my way down between her legs and feast. Every tangy taste of her pussy fills me with resolve. When she screams out her orgasm, I don a condom and move into position. And for the very first time in my entire life, I don’t fuck or bang.

It’s more.

It’s pushing and pulling together. It’s this precious woman beginning where I end. It’s passion and desire and lust and adoration. I give without taking, but gain anyway.

Slowly, I move inside her, savoring every quiver. Every pulse. Every moan. And for the first time in my life, I make love. It sounds cheesy as hell, but there’s a goddamned difference, and I didn’t know it until now. Until this woman.

For better or for worse, I’m never letting her go. Whatever happens next, happens to both of us.

And when I get closer, feeling the tension between us reaching a height I didn’t realize was possible, her name pours from my lips.

“Memphis. Memphis. Memphis.” And I’m finally home.





12





Memphis





From beside me, Cannon’s breathing evens out as he drops off to sleep. I hover on the edge as well, my body sated and mind spinning.

How can he forgive me so easily?

There was only one man I knew who could do so with such ease, and that was my father.

He would have liked Cannon. I have no doubt about that. What he would have liked even more is the way Cannon treats his daughter.

As the garage door closed tonight, I was expecting rage and accusations. Outbursts and blame. But all I got was understanding and acceptance. Trust when I hadn’t earned it. And through it all, he still wanted me, exactly as I am.

I already knew how I felt about Cannon before, but tonight cemented everything. I love him, and there’s absolutely nothing that could make me do anything to hurt him. Ever.

I make the vow to myself, and I will die to keep it.

Whatever comes next, we will handle it together.

“I love you,” I whisper into the darkness, and I swear his arm tightens around me. For the first time in months, I fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.





“I can’t believe you didn’t answer my calls, Memphis. I may not be your biological mother, but I’m the only one you’ve ever known.”

Taking my mom out to dinner is pretty much the last thing I want to do right now, but I force myself to make a semi-sincere apology. “I’m sorry, Mother. I’ve been busy. I was undercover.”

I don’t know why I’m telling her the truth—or at least so much of it. I should lie to her, but lies don’t come as easily to my lips today as they did before. And I know exactly why that is.

Because the truth feels damn good.

“You and your little investigations. Are you ever going to find a respectable hobby?” She lifts her third glass of wine to her lips and drains it, and we haven’t even finished the escargot she insisted on ordering as an appetizer.

Since it’s the only thing that makes them tolerable, I squeeze lemon onto the one and only snail I’ll eat. Overdoing it on the citrus makes my lips pucker, but not more than my dinner date.

“It’s not a hobby, Mother. It’s my job.”

She shakes her head, and her empty glass clinks against the plate as her hand trembles when she sets the crystal on the table. Clearly, Mother hasn’t had enough to drink today to satisfy what her body has grown to need with her addiction.

“Oh, really? Is someone paying you to be undercover? Because Sandra Reddington told me last week at tennis that you took a sabbatical from the network, and Jim has finally given up hope that you’re coming back.”

It takes everything I have not to roll my eyes. Jim Reddington is a senior executive at Investigation Network, where I worked, and was a friend of my father’s. He knew why I left, even if I didn’t tell him, and he didn’t try to confirm. When I rose from our meeting and shook his hand, he gave me a grave smile and said, “Be safe and happy, Memphis. That’s what your father would want for you.”