I do as she asks. She frees my hair first; my wet curls tumble loosely over my shoulders. She combs it out gently, then scrunches hair gel into my hair.
“Always loved your curls, Angel.”
“Aren’t you angry at me, Belle? Don’t you want to know where I’ve been all this time?” I’d feel better if she did.
“I accepted whatever explanation Tonsils and Eagle were willing to give. I know enough to realize how special you truly are. Eagle loves you, Angel. I love you. So now let me help make you beautiful for the man you want.”
Is this Eagle’s way of saying he’s sorry for ever doubting me? Are we really back on equal ground?
Belle has a real talent with makeup, and after she finishes applying some eyeliner, mascara, blush, and whatever else, she grins at me. “Look in the mirror.”
Satisfaction spreads through me as I admire my reflection. She remembered the black cat-eyes I always loved to wear. The soft pink blush and lipstick, too. There’s a hint of the original Angel staring back at me. “You’re amazing,” I say. “Thank you.”
“Now I’ll step out while you finish dressing.”
The expensive nightgown fits perfectly and so do the shoes. I’ve never worn anything so sexy and revealing before. I feel like a birthday present for Eagle. I smile at the thought, definitely ready to be unwrapped. I crack the door open and find Belle in the hallway. She’s holding a shawl.
“Wrap this around your shoulders and Tonsils and I will walk you over.”
As I step into the cool night air, I don’t miss the members standing guard. There’s one at the shop, a couple outside the clubhouse, and three stationed at Eagle’s house. Whatever decision they made tonight in that meeting room, I know it involves keeping me and the club safe. It’s like stepping back in time. But as I climb the stairs to reach Eagle’s front door, I realize this is the first time I’m coming to him as Angel—the grown-up version.
I knock on the front door. When no one answers, I go in.
Candles are burning everywhere. Even the fireplace is lit. I explore the space, admiring the orderliness of Eagle’s world. The Italian leather furniture, the artwork on the walls, the dozens of framed pictures of us hanging in the hallway. I swear, if I start crying again . . .
“Angel?”
I look up and find Eagle standing in the hallway wearing boxer shorts. He’s leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his muscular chest.
“What are you wearing?” he asks, making a funny face.
I shed the colorful shawl, letting it drop to the floor. Captivated by the nearly naked man standing in front of me, I fully comprehend what Belle meant now. This is how a man and a woman heal. How they say things without ever having to speak. How they prove how much they really love one another. By offering the one thing we truly own in this world—our bodies.
“Eagle, I . . .”
He takes a couple steps and then stops, his heated gaze drifting up and down my body. “I claimed you tonight, Angel. I’ll never let you go again. I’ve always loved you. And in case there’s any doubt—I love the woman you’ve become.”
The possessiveness in those words draws me in. Claimed. Wanted. Protected by the only man I’ll ever love.
“This is home now. Wherever I’m at.” He rests his hand over his heart. “Wherever we’re at. Holly Beach. Shreveport. Even in that fucking cemetery.” The last words are choked out and I see the single tear slide down his cheek.
I’ve never seen Eagle cry. I sink to my knees, overwhelmed by everything, completely lost in the moment.
Eagle kneels in front of me and takes my hands in his. “Angel Orani, I love you. I want to marry you tomorrow night.”
Eagle
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers. “Sorry for causing all this pain and sorrow.”
I stroke her cheek, loving the feel of her silky skin. “You never have to apologize to me again, Angel. Promise to stay here. To marry me. To trust me to protect you.”
I have to touch her. Feel her all over. I rest my forehead against hers, watching her eyes, trying to read her mind. She’s incredible, so beautiful to me. The perfect mix of fearlessness and vulnerability, innocence and curiosity, and she’s mine forever.
Scooping her into my arms, I carry her into the living room and spread her out on the fur rug in front of the fireplace. I sit back on my heels, admiring the way the flames cast dancing shadows across her body. I can see her nipples through the lace. The thin strip of dark curls between her legs.
She rests her palm on my cheek. “Do you still watch James Cagney movies?”
Unsure where that came from, I chuckle. “Of course. Why?”
