Page 96 of Illicit

Rocco Monroe entered my life again the day I stepped out of my comfort zone and met with Jules Robichaux.

So much has happened.

My car, my apartment, an undercover operation where I pretended I was Rocco’s girlfriend, Rocco got his arm sliced open…the list goes on.

That’s not even the good stuff.

The good stuff includes no clothes, orgasms, and soul-wrenching conversations.

And then there’s the fact his father is a free man.

Throughout everything, Rocco and I have been pretty much inseparable.

“Are you ready for this, baby?”

I put my car in park and glance into my rearview mirror. Just like he has been since the moment we left my apartment, Rocco is at my back. I don’t look away from him as I talk over my Bluetooth. “No. Now that we’re here, I’m not ready. I want to go back to the beach. Or my studio. Hell, I’ll go back to New Orleans.”

He shakes his head but doesn’t make a move to get out of the car. “Me too. But babies are being born, I have a new job, and you have decisions to make.”

I lean my head back, shut my eyes, and don’t say a thing. That very decision is weighing on me like an anchor.

The next thing I know, the call clicks off and Rocco raps twice on my window. I pull in a deep breath, turn my car off, and unlock my doors. I can’t sit out here all day. I load my arms with as much as I can from my front seat and console.

Rocco opens my door and looks down at me. “What are the chances anyone is watching us right now? I want to kiss you one more time before I’m forced to treat you like I do everyone else.”

I climb out of my car loaded down with trash and bags. “You know how many cameras are on the house, with audio no less,” I whisper. “I’d say the chances are bigger than slim. Don’t you dare kiss me.”

He pulls a bag from my hands and doesn’t push it. He steps back a safe distance and gives me the amount of space one would for a friend.

Ugh.

A friend.

Kill me now.

“This is going to suck,” I grumble like a petulant teenager. “Let’s go.”

He steps aside so I can lead. We go straight to the front door of the house Rocco and I have both called home since the day we moved in. Sure, we’ve had our own places when we moved away, but this has always been where we return.

Today feels different.

I’m about to reach for the handle when the door flies open in front of me.

I stutter to a stop.

Rocco runs into my back and wraps a hand around my hip to keep from bowling me over.

“Surprise!”

It’s shouted in unison so many times … I have no idea how many people just screamed at us.

“You’re back!”

“Welcome home!”

“It’s about time!”

“Today is the best day ever!”

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