"I need to go to the bathroom," I said, not moving. "I need to take my hair down."
His thumbs pushed into the muscles on my back and I think I purred. It definitely wasn't a human noise. "Sit up and I'll sort your hair. It'll be easier to get all the grippy things out."
I looked at him in surprise.
"I have sisters. Claire came by to my old apartment at four in the morning once, completely pissed up, and demanded I sorted her hair out. She then fell asleep in my spare room. That was after being sick in the bath," he said, moving me to a seated position, his fingers combing through my hair for pins and grips. "Feel free to remind her of that."
I laughed, my hands on his thighs, feeling the muscles there. "I'm keeping a low profile with your family until they've forgiven me."
"They're fine. Seph might make some strange threat but that's just because he's trying to act like he's strong enough to protect us all. It's what happens when you're the youngest brother," he said then dropped a kiss on the top of my head. "You're beautiful."
"I'm not: I'm sweaty, I smell of sex, my hair must look as if I've been dragged through a forest and small animals have nested there and my makeup is probably halfway down my face."
He chuckled, low and deep. "And if any of that was true, you'd still be beautiful. If you smell of sex, have messy hair and are a bit sweaty, it's because I got you that way." He nipped at my shoulder. "I love you." He'd already said the words, but saying them again now, while he was de-hedgehogging my hair, made it feel concrete, real. "I want this."
"I'm not having my hair put up every evening just so you get to practice this strange fetish," I said, my hands running up and down his thighs.
Fingers massaged my scalp, applying pressure at certain points. "I could live with only doing this every so often. I want this to be our normal."
I eased back into him, my head sitting under his chin. "I think it already is."
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Epilogue
Payton
Four suited men stood in a line, their arms over each other's shoulders and smiled for the cameras. The family resemblance was unarguable: the height, the firm jaws, the faces that had been sculpted from stone. But my eyes were fixed on only one, the one whose grin became wider as he saw me.
There was laughter, then Seph pushed Callum as their bickering continued and my man strode over to me, his hands automatically finding my waist and closing the gap between us. "It's been an amazing evening," he said. "I think you'll be taking on more staff at Van Marketing after this."
Jackson was probably right. I'd had several people come over and enquire or take our business cards. Grant Callaghan had spoken about us in the speech he'd given, only briefly as it should be, but enough to ensure that we'd receive a mention in the magazine that was reporting on the event. "I'm not thinking about that for the rest of the night," I said, my hands slipping under his suit jacket, sliding over his shirt.
We'd had an almost blissful few weeks since I'd moved in. There had been a couple of disagreements, mainly around him being determined to pick me up every time I went out with friends and another over my takeover of the bathroom, but they were what I'd expected. I'd discovered his moods and ways to improve them and we'd started to transform the house into something other than the monotone palate that it was. It was becoming ours.
"The band's about to start," Jackson said. "That means everyone can relax." Most people already had; champagne had been consumed since just after midday, afternoon cocktails and beers after that and I knew it was almost time for the whiskey to be brought out. It was Grant Callaghan's final official function as the lead practitioner at Callaghan Green and he'd thrived on the occasion, his face never short of a smile.
Jackson, on the other hand, looked nervous. He'd given a speech, as had Maxwell, both of them as smooth as scotch and not using notes. But other than that, he'd occasionally appeared twitchy, his attention elsewhere. "You can relax too," I said. "You've been nervous all day."
He laughed although I didn't get the joke. "Come with me, Vanessa."
I looked around the room, still wary that this was my company's event, although Alice had been the lead. "I should..."
"I need you to come with me."
I followed him out of the room as the band began, down a darkened corridor. One hand held him, the other clutched the skirt of my fishtail dress to avoid standing on the hem. "Where are we going?"
He slowed, stopping outside a door. "Here."
The door opened. A room filled with pillar candles and flowers was presented to me. I looked around in stunned silence, unsure, my chest echoing with the heightened beat of my heart.
Jackson closed the door behind us and took my hand again, leading me to an antique chaise lounge. "Vanessa," he said, his jaw clenched and he bit his lips together. "Maxwell told me I may as well give you my balls in a case when he saw what I'd done with this room."
"You're nervous," I said, reaching to touch his face. "What's bothering you?"
He smiled. "Van, I have a room filled with candles and flowers. My brother thinks you own my balls. What could I possibly be nervous about?"
"Oh." Realisation dawned.
