“But I have to—”
“Hush.”
She turned in his arms and looked up at him, warmth brimming in her gaze. “Sorry, sir.”
He grabbed her hand. “It’s time to go.”
Her brows pinched together, but she let him lead her forward, trusting him to guide her into whatever he had planned. That subtle submissiveness never failed to tug strings inside him. He still couldn’t believe the universe had given him this gift. She was his. His.
“May I ask where I’m going, sir?”
“Nope.”
“Are you going to be with me?”
“Yep.”
She leaned into him, and he slipped his arm fully around her. “Then that’s all I ever need to know.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the words seep into his skin, the rightness of it all soak into his bones. The world had never felt so big and bright and full. The girl he’d dreamed about, angsted over, and lost so long ago was here. Loving him.
His perfect match.
Turns out that bitch, Fate, knew what she was doing after all.
He couldn’t wait to see what she had in store for them next.
Keep reading for an excerpt from the next Loving on the Edge novel by Roni Loren
NOTHING BETWEEN US
Coming soon from Heat
12:35 A.M.
Georgia Delaune had never been particularly drawn to illegal activity. Or taking risks. Or, okay, fine—sexually deviant behavior. She was woman enough to admit what this was. So finding herself hiding in the dark, peering around the curtains of her second story window with a set of binoculars, should’ve tipped her off that she was officially losing her shit. But since moving into the house on Fallen Oaks Lane six months earlier, she’d known this moment was coming. Before now, she’d convinced herself that she’d just been catching inadvertent peeks and unintentional glimpses. Her neighbor would surely shut his curtains if he didn’t want to risk being seen, right?
She groaned, lowered the binoculars, and pressed her forehead to the window frame. God, now she was blaming the victim. He gets naked in the confines of his own home. A home that’s on a tree-lined corner lot with tons of privacy and a six-foot-tall fence. How dare he!
This was so screwed up. What if he saw her? He could call the cops and she’d be slapped with some Peeping Tom charge—or Peeping Tomasina, as the case may be. That’d be an epic disaster. Especially when the cops found no information on a Georgia Delaune. Plus, afterward, she’d have to move because there’d be no facing her neighbor again. Not after he knew what she did at night. And there was no way in hell she was moving. It had taken too much time, effort, and planning to find this spot, to finally feel even a smidgen of security and safety. These walls were her only haven and she had no intention of leaving them.
But despite knowing the risks, when she saw a lamp flick on in the window of Colby Wilkes’s bedroom, she found herself dragging a chair over to the window and lifting the binoculars to her eyes. It took a second to adjust the focus, but when the lenses cleared, the broad, wet shoulders of her dark-haired neighbor filled the view. Her stomach dipped in anticipation.
He wasn’t alone.
She’d known he had friends over. She’d seen the group going in when she’d closed her living room blinds earlier that night. Two women and three guys, plus Colby. Later, she’d heard water splashing and the murmuring hum of voices so she’d gone into her backyard for a while to listen to the distant sounds of life and laughter. That world seemed so foreign to her now. Being surrounded by people, having friends over, relax
ing by the pool. She couldn’t see anything from her backyard. Colby’s pool area was blocked by the house and bordered by trees. So she’d lain in her lounge chair out back, closed her eyes, and had imagined she was a guest at his party, that she was part of that laughter. And she’d also found herself wondering what would happen afterward.
Now she knew. Colby had stepped into his bedroom, obviously fresh from the pool with his dark hair wet and only a towel knotted around his waist. And he had company with him. One of Colby’s friends, a tall blond guy who was also sporting a towel, had followed him in. And then there was a woman. She wore nothing at all. Georgia’s lip tucked between her teeth, heat creeping into her face. She so shouldn’t be watching this. But she couldn’t turn away. She’d learned rather quickly that her dear neighbor, despite his affable grin, Southern-boy charm, and straight-laced job, was a freak in the bedroom. Threesomes were only part of it. After her last relationship, it should’ve turned her off, sent her running. Guys with secrets. Fuck no.
But the first time she’d caught sight of Colby bringing a flogger down on a lover’s back, Georgia had been transfixed. She’d been completely stuck on her latest writing project at the time. But after watching Colby drive a woman into a writhing, begging state, Georgia had gone into her office, opened a new document, and had written until the sun had broken through the curtains the next morning. Before she knew it, her thriller-in-progress had taken a decidedly erotic turn. Thankfully, her editor had loved the new direction. So now Georgia, in her guiltiest moments, told herself these stolen moments at the window were all in the name of book research.
Yeah. Even her sleep-deprived brain didn’t buy that one.
The guilt wasn’t enough to make her stop, though. Especially now when Colby was grabbing for the knot on his towel. She held her breath. The terry cloth fell to the floor at Colby’s feet, and everything inside Georgia went tight. Holy heaven above. She’d watched—oh, how she’d watched—but never before had she been able to see everything in such intimate detail. The binoculars transported her, took her by the hand and dragged her into that room with those strangers. Colby was right there in front of her—strong, beautiful, aroused. His hand wrapped around his cock and stroked ever so slowly, taunting her with unashamed confidence. No, not her. The woman. God, Georgia should look away. But need rolled through her like thunder from an oncoming storm, her fingers tightening around the binoculars.
The other man had stripped, too, and although he was gorgeous in his own right with his polished, movie-star good looks, Georgia was drawn to the rough-around-the-edges brawn of her neighbor. Every part of Colby hinted at the wildness he hid beneath his surface—dark wavy hair that was a little too long, the ever present stubble that shadowed his jaw, and a body that looked like he could bench press a Buick. He was the opposite of the pressed and creased, Armani-clad businessmen she’d been attracted to in her former life. He was the guy you’d be wary of on first glance if you ran into him in a dark alley—the cowboy whose hat-color you couldn’t quite determine straightaway.