My stomach hits the floor. I have the worst luck ever. My muay thai princess is Seth’s baby sister? That makes things a whole lot more complicated.
“Harley,” he continues, eyes narrowing in a way that says he knows what’s going on in my head. “This is Devon Green. One of my fighters.”
“Hi,” she says, and extends a gloved hand for me to bump. Even her voice is sexy. It’s husky, like she doesn’t use it often.
“Hey, Harley.” Love her name. It matches her perfectly. I want to say it aloud as often as possible.
“Dev, Harley has just moved back from Thailand. I wasn’t planning to make an announcement until tomorrow, but she’s competing in an eight-woman elimination tournament in a couple of months. I want to broaden our horizons and get more women competing through the gym. Harley is going to be our drawcard. If she wins, we’ll make a name for ourselves as a good place for women to train.”
“Wow, that’s crazy cool.” I look at her with increased respect. “Eight-woman eliminator. Intense.”
She grins, and it blows me away. My knees nearly knock together. “I’m ready for it.”
“Almost,” Seth amends, his gaze full of affection when it lands on her. “But her experience is solely in kickboxing and muay thai, which means she needs to learn how to grapple, and fast. She’ll be training with you boys—Jase, especially. She’s a quick study.”
I nod. “Welcome aboard, Harley. We’re all like family around here.”
“Exactly.” Seth’s eyes narrow further, and an icy finger traces down my spine. “Likefamily,” he repeats. “So don’t get any ideas about anything you wouldn’t do with your brothers, Dev.”
And there it is. He’s officially telling me: Harley Isles is off-limits.
You know what?
That only makes me want her more.
EXTENDED EPILOGUE
Gabe—three years later
“It never gets any less gorgeous,” Sydney says as she walks ahead of me, exiting our cabin in Provincetown on Cape Cod, and stepping onto the beach. We’ve been coming here each summer since we got together and love it so much that we decided to buy a cottage by the water.
We’re both barefoot because the sand is soft and the summer weather is better than I could have dreamed. It’s warm, and there’s a hum of anticipation in the air. Despite that, the beach is largely empty. Most of the tourists are at the fair in town, which is why I chose today for this very important lunch date. Nerves thrum through my entire body, and I’m so wired that it’s lucky Sydney hasn’t figured out what I’m up to.
She waits for me to reach her side, then threads her fingers through mine, locking our palms together. Sparks of awareness zing between us at the contact, and she smiles, the expression extending all the way to her eyes, which crinkle at the corners. The breeze stirs the loose strands of hair curling around her face, and I brush them aside, letting my touch linger on her skin.
God, I love her.
I love her massive heart and her generous personality. I love those deep brown eyes and I really fucking love getting my hands all over her.
We wander along the beach, side by side, then veer toward the water. Midway, we stop, and I place the picnic basket in my other hand on the ground. Inside is a blanket, which I spread on the sand for us to sit on. Dropping to my knees, I sneak a glance at her bronze legs beneath the hem of her sundress, and then unpack a bottle of chilled sparkling grape juice and a selection of gourmet finger foods—cheeses, dried fruit, olives, tomatoes, and some fancy cracker things that look a bit weird but taste great. There’s also a small box of artisan chocolates I picked up from a shop downtown, and I pass them to her.
“Oh, these look good,” she says as she removes the lid. She chooses one and pops it into her mouth. Her eyes close and she moans in bliss.
Instantly, I’m hard. Constant erections are the only drawback of being around her. Even after the years we’ve been together, she can still set me off with one small sound. When she swallows, I lean over and kiss her, my tongue delving into her mouth, tasting chocolate and Sydney. So. Damn. Good. I’m a greedy bastard when it comes to her.
Don’t get carried away.
I brought her out here to propose, not to fuck her on the beach, in plain view of anyone who happens along. Backing off, I collect a pair of paper cups and half-fill each with grape juice—I’m due for a fight in a few weeks, so I’m off alcohol. I pass one to Sydney and we toast each other. She takes a sip, then sets her cup aside and reaches for a cracker. Meanwhile, the box in the pocket of my board shorts is burning a hole into my thigh. My mouth is parched and I gulp the juice, which fizzes up the back of my nose.
Mustering my courage, I shift around so I’m kneeling in front of her, and stick my hand into my pocket. My fingers fumble with the box, but I extract it and manage to get it open. Her eyes widen and she sits up straight.
“Sydney,” I say, the speech I rehearsed promptly vanishing from my mind. Instead, I speak from the heart, and my words are not elaborate but they’re true. “I love you. I’m crazy for you. You’re the most important part of my life, and I hope you know that.”
She nods, her eyes sparkling with emotion.
“Marry me?”
“Yes,” she breathes, ignoring the ring in favor of kissing me—which, hey, I’m all good with. My heart is still trying to beat its way out of my chest, and she smooths a hand over it. “Your pulse is going wild.”
