He dangled a long pair of socks in front of her. They were red with Vs of ill.u.s.trated birds on them. "Holy s.h.i.t," she said and grabbed them. "Where did you get them?"

"My soon-to-be-sister-in-law knows how to find anything on the Strip. So she found a store for me that sells all kinds of socks."

She clutched them to her chest. "To some women, giving her socks would be like giving her a vacuum cleaner. I, however, am not one of those women."

He quirked up his lips and ran his finger along the outside of her thigh. "And I am one of those men for whom socks are a crazy turn-on."

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO.

The disco lights swirled in crazy-eight circles, and Elle raced around the rink, hot as f.u.c.k in her tight T-shirt, short skirt, and red socks. Bon Jovi blasted out of the sound system.

"Catch me if you can."

Oh h.e.l.l. There was no way he was backing down from that challenge. He pushed harder and faster on his wheels, and soon enough he caught up with her, grabbing her waist and pulling her to the side of the rink.

Breathless, she laughed in his arms as "You Give Love a Bad Name" echoed around them.

"Hey, you're not even supposed to be skating for another week," he admonished her.

"No," she said, correcting him as she shook her head. "The doctor said no contact sports. Skating itself is fine."

"Contact sports," he said, cupping her a.s.s in his hands. "Seems you already violated that doctor's order a few times."

"Not enough though. Let's violate it again."

They had the rink to themselves. Camille had given Elle the key, and they were all alone, the game over and everyone cleared out.

Even though he'd never f.u.c.ked her wearing skates before, he was confident he could pull it off because he was an athlete, a risk-taker, and a man madly in love with the woman he wanted. But maybe they'd move off the slick hardwood and onto the carpeted floor.

He threaded his fingers through her hair and kissed her-a hot, wet kiss that had her shuddering in his arms and rocking her hips into him in no time. She moaned as he deepened the kiss until their mouths tangled together and became nothing but a fevered, hungry prelude to hard s.e.x.

He needed that. Needed to reclaim her. To take her. To own her. To feel her body move in tandem with his. He craved that kind of s.e.x as a sign that this reconnection would last. He believed it in his heart, and now wanted to experience it in his bones.

He spun her around, a task made easier with her on skates. "Hands on the railing, Skater Girl," he growled, and she bent over in a perfectly glorious L. He inhaled sharply at the sight of her giving herself to him. She glanced back at him, licking her lips as he hiked up her skirt, then unzipped his shorts and pushed down his briefs.

"I missed all of you, including your c.o.c.k," she purred. She was his dirty-mouthed woman. His filthy talker, and G.o.d, he loved all of her-dirty words, strong body, witty mind and gorgeous heart. "Take off your panties, and show me how much you missed me. I want to see how wet you are."

With one hand, she tugged down her pink panties to her knees, then she lifted her a.s.s in the air and wiggled. His breath stopped as he stared at her beautiful body, ready for him. He grabbed her hips and sank into his heaven.

Then he picked up speed and f.u.c.ked her by the railing as rockers sang anthems about love gone wrong. But there was no love gone wrong here. It was only right, only true, only real.

Soon she neared the edge, and called out his name as the dis...o...b..ll cast silvery lights on the floor. Before he could join her on the other side of bliss, she said, "I want to turn around. I want to look at you."

"Then be prepared for me to give you another o.r.g.a.s.m."

They switched to a new position as he lifted her onto the railing at the edge of the rink. She looped her arms around his neck. "I always knew," she whispered as he thrust into her.

"Always knew what?"

She grasped him tighter, pulled him closer, and tilted her chin. Her hazel eyes were full of so much love that he wasn't sure he could last much longer.

"That I'd find my way back to you," she said, and exhilaration tore through him. It sped through his body in a mad rush of savage ecstasy. He wanted her to find him always. He wanted to be her home.

"I'll always be here."

She was the only kind of intoxication he wanted anymore. He planned to stay hooked on her for all time.

She was the risk. She was the reward.

They came together once more.

Later she poured a lemonade from the tap at the snack stand.

"One virgin for you, sir," she said and slid a red and white paper cup across the Formica. "Since that's the only virgin you're getting."

He laughed and took a drink, then he set it down and laced his fingers through hers. "Hey. You think the bartender would go home with me tonight? I'll bring you back here to get your car tomorrow morning."

That sounded good to her, so she said yes as Foreigner's "Feels Like the First Time" played faintly in the background. As the chorus repeated, it hit her. Tonight would be her first night with him. She'd never stayed over. She wanted all these firsts with him, and all the lasts, too. She wanted this man with a fierceness she hadn't expected, and she was giving herself permission to feel it. To finally let herself have him. All of him, in all of her life.

"But do I have to get up at the crack of dawn when you go rock climbing or whatever crazy thing you have planned for tomorrow morning?"

"Only if you want to."

She did want to. She wanted to make good on a wish she'd made. She wanted to turn a one-time maybe into a full-on yes.

The next morning, she asked him to take her kayaking.

Maybe some days you'll want to kayak and some days you won't, and whatever you want is fine by me.

The look in his dark eyes said that it was more than fine. That it was pure magic to share what he loved. And it became pure fun, too, when he taught her how to paddle in a kayak built for two. She didn't flip over, she didn't drown, and she didn't slice her head on a rock at the edge of the lake.

After they pulled the kayak out of the water, she sank down on the edge of the lake, enjoying the clear blue sky of an early morning on the outskirts of Vegas. He draped an arm around her, and she expected a kiss to come next-maybe even a kiss that would turn into outdoor s.e.x on a kayak.

Instead, his voice was intensely serious. "Elle, do you want me to quit?"

"Quit?" she asked quizzically. "Quit what?"

"Doing the adventure sports? Not kayaking, but the ones you worry about more. The rock climbing, hang gliding, mountain bike riding, and the skiing?"

"Wait. You hang glide, too?" That was news to her.

He smiled widely. "No. I want to try it, though. But I know the sports worry you. I'll give it up for you."

Her eyes widened with shock, and her heart beat wildly as she soaked in the knowledge that he would give up something he loved madly for her. "You'd do that for me?"

He nodded, no questions asked. "I would. I don't want to cause any more stress in your life. I don't want you to live with that kind of fear."

Happiness rained down on her. Bliss spread from her chest to the tips of her fingers. The fact that he'd offered thrilled her. It delighted her to the ends of the earth and back. But she shook her head. "No. I don't want you to quit. I want you to go for it. I want to cheer you on. I want to be the first person you see when you cross the finish line at your triathlon later this month."

He exhaled deeply and smiled like she'd given him the greatest gift in the world-permission to do what he loved without fear. She'd still worry about him, but it wasn't her place to hold him back. She ran her hand over his hip. Though he was clothed, she liked tracing the outline of his phoenix tattoo. For new beginnings. Like this one. "In fact, I was going to ask if you'd be interested in starting a climbing or kayaking group for the boys at the center. They never get to go, and I bet some would like to."

He arched an eyebrow. "I already took Rex yesterday. He loved it."

She nudged his elbow. "See? You don't have to give up something you love to be with me."

"I'm glad I don't have to, but I would," he said, running his hand through her hair then pulling her in for a quick kiss. "And I can't wait to cross the finish line and see you."

"I'll always be there."

EPILOGUE.

Hot. Sweaty. Exhausted. Aching.

And elated.

Add in thrilled as the finish line came into view that hot Sat.u.r.day afternoon in August, and he saw where Elle waved and cheered him on. He was overjoyed as he put one foot in front of the other, ceaselessly running until he nearly collapsed in her arms.

Nearly. But didn't.

He finished this one the way he wanted to, and even though every muscle screamed, and his throat cried out for water, he was flying high. So high, he lifted her up in his arms. She wrapped her legs around his waist and kissed him.

"You did it!"

"I did it."

There was no medal. There was no prize. There was no ranking. There was only this-the satisfaction of a job well done and the love of a good woman.

That was everything, and he wanted to share it with his family the next day. The crew joined him for a celebratory dinner at his house-Brent and Shannon, Ryan and Sophie, Elle and Alex, Michael and his grandparents, as well as Marcus, Rex, and Tyler. The boys seemed to travel in a pack, and Colin was glad that Marcus had such good friends-friends who were also good guys.

Marcus had more than that. He had his new family, too, and he'd been spending more time here at Colin's house, crashing from time to time at night when he had cla.s.s the next morning, since his school was nearby. But he hadn't been himself for the last few weeks. Not since they'd visited their mom in Hawthorne. He'd seemed remote, nervous even, spending more time clutching his phone as if he were waiting for a dreaded call to arrive.

Colin had asked a few times about his mood, and if he wanted to talk. Marcus always shook his head and said no. Colin tried again that evening after everyone left and the two of them were straightening up in the kitchen.

"What's going on? College harder than you thought?"

"No. It's fine," Marcus said as he loaded a plate in the dishwasher.

"Is it work?"

His phone rang. With the speed of a cheetah, Marcus whipped his cell from his back pocket. He glanced at the screen and answered immediately. Colin didn't even see the name or the number.

"Hey."

A pause. Colin tried to tune in to the conversation, though he knew he shouldn't. Still, he was d.a.m.n curious, especially since the caller sounded a h.e.l.l of a lot like Detective John Winston.

"Holy s.h.i.t. That's f.u.c.king amazing," Marcus said, and the sullenness vanished. It was replaced by something that looked and sounded like jubilation. Marcus ran a hand through his hair and exhaled like he'd been holding ten thousand breaths. "Tonight? You arrested him tonight?"

Colin straightened, set down the dishtowel, and mouthed who? Antic.i.p.ation barreled through him as he zeroed in on Marcus.

"Yes. I can talk. I'm at Colin's house." Marcus covered the phone and said, "Can John come over?"

"Um. Yeah. Obviously," he said, then made a rolling gesture with his hands. Hurry up and tell me.

When Marcus hung up, Colin parked his hands on his hips. "What's going on? Who was arrested?"

"Kenny Nelson."

Colin punched the air. "Yes. f.u.c.k yes!"

"The cops have him in custody now," Marcus added, and he'd become the very embodiment of relief. Then his expression shifted once more. "But it's not over. T.J. Nelson is still at large."

"They'll find him, too," Colin said as excitement consumed him. This was huge. This was a big break, and he couldn't wait to tell his brothers and sister and grandmother...

Wait.

"Why did John call you? Why is he coming over here?" Colin asked, curiosity taking over. Something didn't add up. Some piece was missing.

The sullen Marcus briefly resurfaced, but he let go of it in seconds, pushing past it. "I've been helping the detective for two weeks now. Helping him with the case."

"How?"

Marcus squeezed his eyes shut then opened them. "My father."

Colin tensed all over. "What about him?"

"He was involved."

His jaw dropped. His blood chilled. "How? How was he involved?"

Marcus swallowed then words rained forth. "There are things I know about my dad. He is a piano teacher. But he's much more. So are the Royal Sinners. They're a street gang, but they're powerful. They have friends in high places. And my dad is one of them. He's so far inside that hardly anyone knows who he really is, or that he's starting to lose control of some of his men. Like Kenny and T.J."