“I’m glad you’re back.”
He held Hannah closer. “Yeah. Me too.”
***
The party lasted too long, and Hannah decided to rock out longer in the middle of the night. I cradled her to sleep, warm and fed and peaceful. She crashed without a peep, and I backed out of a nursery blended with so much pink and farm and princess decorations the kid would grow up adjusting a tiara with a pitchfork.
Nicholas waited for me in our bedroom, capturing me in a kiss worth waking up in the middle of the night to receive.
“Bumper sleeping?” he asked.
“Like a baby.”
“How convenient.”
I grinned at him, shivering in all the right ways as his hand brushed against my cheek. “She’s beautiful.”
“Just like her mother.”
“And perfect.”
“Now you’re fishing for compliments.”
I raised my eyebrows. Nicholas smirked.
“Perfect like her mother.”
“Thank you.”
He led me to the bed, teasing another kiss from my lips. “No, thank you.”
“For what?”
“Everything?” His caramel voice threaded over me. “Or do you need specifics?”
I shook my head. No one needed specifics anymore. That part of our lives, the memories and hate and nightmares, those were over. I leaned in close.
“You saved me, Sarah,” he said. “From myself. From a future that would have damned me to the same darkness as…”
“Nick, I wouldn’t change what happened. It gave me you and Bumper. Anything else was just paying our dues until we reached right now.”
“And what’s now?”
“Everyday, for the rest of our lives.”
Nicholas’s smile turned devilish. I braced for it, but the masculine possession wasn’t something I ever wanted to lose. He cupped my cheek. I melted into his grasp.
“You are everything I’ve ever wanted,” he said. “Every power I thought I deserved, and everything a family is supposed to be…”
His voice trailed off. I shrugged. “Is there a but in that statement?”
He pulled me close, tasting my lip, my chin, my neck. I rolled with a heated shiver, a prelude to our promised honeymoon.
“But, Ms. Atwood…Mrs. Bennett—”
I knew what he was after, and the tease would conquer me again and again.
“Don’t you dare, Nicholas Bennett.”
I flushed with a terrible excitement as he pushed me on the bed, his kisses tracing a path over my heating skin. Nicholas growled, a hungry, perfect baritone that promised every love, every desire, every pleasure he had yet to give me.
“I’m still owed a male heir.”
The End
Acknowledgements
This has been one crazy journey.
I want to thank so many people. To all my readers out there who encouraged this series, loved this series, and helped this series—thank you. I know the subject matter is a little crazy, but I am forever grateful so many of you shared the same triumphs and dark moments and recovery with my characters. Seriously, hearing how much you all hate Darius Bennett has been the best experience of my life. I love it.
I am so going to miss these books, but…you know what they say. When one door closes…there’s two Bennetts who need spin off novels. ;)
And to Kelley and Jess—my betas, my friends, and the two gals who do so much for me—thank you for dropping everything, answering questions, and helping to get this book ready for me. I love you both so much, and I am absolutely thrilled to have found two amazingly gifted authors who are willing to do so much for me. Thank you guys.
And my husband—he has no only supported me with this writing career; he’s been taking care of me when I don’t exactly leave time to make myself dinner or run to the store. He knows how much I love him, but Imma say it again. I love you.
So, this ride isn’t over yet, and my novels are just warming up. So much is planned. We’ve got motorcycle gangs. BDSM clubs. Spinoffs. Cultists. Priests. So much stuff is coming, and I can’t wait to share it with you all! Thank you all for giving me the support and encouragement to make this dream a reality.
Lana
Other Works By Lana Grayson
Legacy Series
Takeover – The Legacy Series #1
Controlling Interests – The Legacy Series #2
Anathema Series
Warlord – Anathema MC Series #1
Exiled – Anathema MC Series #2
Knight – Anathema MC Series #3
Coming November 4rd, 2015!
Keep tabs on me through Facebook or
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Join my mailing list to receive updates, news, special sales, and opportunities for advanced reader copies of upcoming novels!
And you can email me at lana.grayson.writes@gmail.com.
Sneak Peek
While They Watch
Book #1 of the Concerto Trilogy
Coming Early 2016
Innocence meets Dominance in this sexy three novel BDSM trilogy.
His pet wants out of the spotlight.
Her Master performs best with an audience.
Sometimes the most honest submission is learned While They Watch…
Chapter One
Morgan
“You don’t belong here.”
His voice cut against the thrumming cello of the jazz quartet. The warning pulled me from the music and pinned me to my seat. What might have been an unwelcomed distraction instead syncopated my heart into a spikey, unsteady rhythm.
The stranger spoke with a resonating authority and, for whatever reason, he focused on me.
I had finally worked up enough courage to order a drink, but his warning rekindled my panic. Fleeing the club was a good option. Grabbing my ID for the third time to prove my age to the security obsessed bartender was the rational thing to do. Instead, my gaze darted to the white LED decorated stairs leading to the guarded door of the infamous second floor. A threaded curtain separated the VIPs from the general public.
I had no idea what to say, but nodding didn’t take much social skill. I could do it without embarrassing myself.
Hell, I agreed with him.
I didn’t belong in a lot of places. Duchess, an exclusive fetish night-club, lingered at the top of the list, followed closely by places like Fallujah and my mother’s house in Columbus. My peachtini was too light on the -tini to consider the happenings on that second floor. Even the curtain’s material looked too ritzy for my wallet. I was as out of place in Duchess as I was in Pottery Barn.
The stranger claimed the stool to my left. His shoulder grazed against mine, and I reached for my drink, teeth clamping down on the straw before I said something idiotic.
Belong there? Of course I didn’t belong there. And the one who did was forty-five-freaking-minutes late. No calls. No texts.
Leave it to Suzi to trap me in the one bar that served leather conditioner alongside thirty dollar mixed drinks.
His long legs stretched out under the bar—black shoes, black slacks tailor fitted to his build. He was much taller than me, but that was no surprise. I got carded at the door, and I expected a “you must be this tall to enter” speech from the bouncer.
Though, in a place like Duchess, it’d be a “this tall to ride” warning.