Page 126 of Instigator

“Separate rooms?” I tease.

She shakes her head. “Coming home to each other.”

“Move in with me,” I blurt. “Make it official.”

She opens her mouth to object.

“You hate your house, and I have the space. We can convert one of the guest rooms into an office so you don’t have to keep working at the kitchen table in the middle of the night. Please, Ceci. Move in with me.”

Her hand curves over the back of my neck, claiming me. Owning me.

It turns out, I like being claimed. I like being owned. By her, that is.

“Okay,” she murmurs, a smile on her berry-painted lips. “I’ll move in with you.”

“Tomorrow.”

She giggles, her chocolate-brown eyes bright with happiness. “Tomorrow.”

Ducking my head, I capture her lips with mine, trying to convey how happy this makes me. I’m giddy at the thought of waking up beside her every morning, coming home to her every night.

I never thought something like this would happen for me. Even after meeting Ceci, I never thought this dream could come true. I didn’t know I wanted this dream until she waltzed into my life and turned everything upside down.

“Can we leave now?” I murmur against her lips.

Ceci grins at me, her thumb covering the pulse point in my neck. She steadies me, maybe without even realizing she’s doing it.

“We just got here. We have to work.”

I sigh heavily. “If we have to.”

“These people paid thousands of dollars to see you,” she says, smoothing her free hand over my lapel. “It’s only a few hours. Then we get to go home.”

“Together?”

“Yeah, Wish. Together.”

And then I seal that promise with another kiss.

All too soon, heavy footsteps sound behind me.

“All right, that’s enough,” Colt booms. “Break it up. We’ve got donors to meet.”

By the skin of my teeth, I hold back my groan. The last thing I want is for any of the kind people who spent thousands of dollars on their tickets to hear me complain.

I’m not complaining. I would simply rather spend my time wrapped up in Ceci than putting on a polite, professional face for strangers who only want to brag about meeting a famous hockey player.

“How’s Sinclair?” Ceci asks, her hand slipping into mine.

By the time I got to him, he was doing better. But that’s not saying much.

“Not great,” I finally tell her. “I’m worried.”

“I know, baby,” she murmurs, running a hand through my hair. Like she can’t resist touching me even for a second. “Just keep supporting him.”

I’m trying my best. Though that might not be enough for him anymore.

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