Page 204 of Sinful Like Us

“You’re close to Price,” Jane explained in a rush. “We were worried you’d tell the Alpha lead.”

Rose frowned. “Of course we trust Price, but that doesnotmean we’dput him above you. I’m sorry if your dad and I made you feel like we would.” She held her daughter’s hands. “We will always choose you first. You’re my blood and bones.”

Jane hugged her mom.

I looked to Rose, then to Connor. “I’m sorry for lying. It wasn’t our intention.” I explained briefly how we thought it’d just be a short week.

“You’re dating our daughter,” Connor said like that had made all the difference during the switch. “I recognize that Jane didn’t know how this would go since she’s the first of my children to be in a seriousrelationship. But know now that there’s a hierarchy.” His lip rose in a grin. “Many people need me, but there are only a handful that I’d drop everything for—and you’re now among them.” He cocked a single brow. “Just so you understand: you rank higher than security, and I would lie for you, if needed.”

He’d lie for me.

That knowledge still whirls my head.

“Lastly,” Connor said, “don’t apologize for trying to deceive me, but I will accept an apology for failing.”

We shook hands.

He’s unlike most men I meet. Which isn’t surprising. We’re not cut from the same cloth. He grew up affluent and went to an elite boarding school in upstate New York. He’s bred for prep school games and aristocratic rules that I’m still learning.

But he treated me like I was worthy of his daughter.

That’s all I could ask for.

I feel good about my standing with her parents. But with her five brothers and little sister—fuck if I know. Charlie said I haven’t finished the Truth or Dare game yet. I could walk into Wednesday Night Dinner, and they could banish me for fucking eternity.

Even being engaged to Jane hasn’t changed anything with her siblings. They reacted to the news like someone offering a weather report. Jane said they’re keeping things close to the vest until the game ends. But I hated seeing Audrey purposefully temper her excitement.

At least I don’t have to fucking guess how the rest of her family feels. Overjoyed is a soft word for their reaction. Her parents, aunts, uncles, and cousins were beyond ecstatic. Luna and Sulli shrieked and grabbed Jane’s hands and the three of them started jumping up and down together.

But the biggest reaction was Maximoff’s. Her best friend. He hugged Jane. Then gave me a hug. He said, “I’m proud of Jane for following her heart, and I’m glad you’re the guy on the other side of it.”

I’d repeat that moment a thousand times just to see the happiness on Jane’s face over and over again.

Back in bed, Jane’s eyes begin to flutter open. Curiosity in them as she looks up at me. “How long have you been awake?”

“Not long.” I brush some frizzed hair off her cheek.

She stirs more, smiling, and then glances at her left hand splayed on my muscular bicep, the makeshift ring still on her finger.

Our engagement wasn’t a dream.

It was real. It’s been real since she proposed a couple weeks ago.

“I’m getting you an actual ring,” I tell her straight out.

Her lips suddenly downturn and she props herself higher, her left hand sliding to my chest. “I like this one.”

“You’re not wearing a paperclip forever.” I’m resolute and unyielding about this. I might not be able to afford a 5-carat diamond, but Jane is worth more than a two-cent piece of metal from OfficeMax.

She opens her mouth to argue, but I kiss the top of her head, then her temple.

Jane flushes and quiets at my touch, her nipples hardened against a silk blue top, and I clutch her ass that peeks out of the matching shorts. My cock twitches.

Her smile grows, and she shifts on me and straddles my waist, palms splayed on my chest. As she bows forward, dog tags suspend from her neck.

Same ones I wore during two tours overseas. They mean something to me, encapsulating a time of my life that civilians can’t understand—and I always planned to give them to the woman I’d marry.

I wish I had brought them to Scotland, and I was kicking myself that I hadn’t.