Page 170 of Forever Never
“I didn’t want to say it over the phone. I wanted to say it in person. I love you, Brick William Eugene Callan the Third. I want this to work. I want us to be together here. I want to live near family and paint in your house and wake up next to you.”
His arms banded around her possessively, and his mouth sought hers.
“You’re making my fucking life, Remi,” he groaned.
“Take me upstairs,” she demanded.
There was so much more to discuss. So much more at stake. But for now, the only thing that mattered was in his arms.
He took the stairs two at a time, making her laugh against his lips. Kicking the bedroom door open, he fell on the bed, catching his weight in one hand so as not to crush her.
“Say it again,” he demanded, his voice harsh.
Her green eyes lit up with something that looked a hell of a lot like love. “I love you. So much—Holy shit. Is thatmine?”
Remi pushed against him, trying to free herself, but he was never letting go.
She pinched him hard right on the ass. “You bought my painting.”
He lifted his gaze from her face to the small painting he’d hung above his nightstand. “Yeah. Also, I officially hate that Raj guy. He’s a huge pain in the ass.”
“You bought my first piece,” she said, still staring at it.
He ducked his head to press a kiss to her throat. “I saw it in one of the photographs of you in your loft when I was cyberstalking Alessandra Ballard. It made me think of us.”
Her eyes were watery, and she blinked back tears. “Imagine that,” she said softly.
Remi nudged his chin up so he was looking at her.
“What?”
She wet her lips. “Stop settling for pieces, Brick. Take all of me.”
43
“Igot everything,” Remi scoffed as Brick methodically checked each kitchen cabinet.
With a smirk, he reached into the cabinet above the refrigerator and produced a two-inch flat brush and an unopened box of Marshmallow Munchies.
“Shit.”
His mouth curved in wry amusement, making her heart trip over itself. Was there anything sexier in this world than a smirking Brick Callan in uniform? She still couldn’t believe that the burly, bearded, bartending cop was all hers.
Since the official exchange of the “I love yous” something had shifted inside her. She was still terrified for Camille, still concerned about what Warren had planned for them both. But she felt…lighter. More hopeful.
They both had been careful not to talk about “the future,” what would happen after “things” were resolved. No long-term plans beyond what they would bring to Darius and Ken’s place for dinner.
There was too much standing between them and a cleared field to consider options that weren’t real yet. Remi didn’t know whether she wanted to stay in Chicago or on Mackinac. She didn’t know if she’d have a career to rebuild.
And she didn’t want to talk about options with a man who’d been abandoned before. A man who’d finally found a home here.
She appreciated the view when Brick bent to look under the sink, his uniform pants doing wonders for that spectacular ass of his.
He straightened and winked when he caught her admiring glance. “Cleaners will be here in a few. We should probably get out of their way.”
She glanced around at the tidy living space, the tall windows looking out over miles of water. It was April, and Agnes’s first reservation was arriving next week, effectively ending Remi’s tenure at the cottage.
“I’m going to miss this place,” she mused.
