“Then I guess you’d better kneel, Beck Rivera.”
A brief flash of fuck, really? tweaked his mouth before it curved up into that do-me grin. He jackknifed to his knees before her, his hands coasting down her thighs over the acre of fabric as he felt a path to her ankles. Checking for injuries just like the first night he rescued her outside Dempsey’s. Only this time, he would find her strong and whole.
Girl walked into a bar, hooked up with her destiny.
Gently, he raised her foot and kissed the visible skin with hot, purposeful lips, transferring his intimate heat to her body. The sight of him in supplication unraveled her like a loose thread on a sweater.
Lifting his head, he held her gaze boldly. “You’re strong and sexy and I love you. I need you to breathe, but I need to make sure my woman can breathe first. What do you say, querida?”
He delivered the Rivera smile, the same crooked one he wooed her with that day in the ring after he had taken down one Cochrane and set his sights on conquering another. He captured her heart then, and had held it in his iron fist ever since. Beck saw her. He truly did. She could spend the rest of her life looking at him looking at her.
There was only one thing she could say.
“Rip it, Beck.”
A quicker-than-the-human-eye move, and he tore her dress from the hem all the way to midthigh. Gasps hissed though the stultifying air at the sight of her skin shining in glorious Technicolor under the harsh ballroom lights.
Unfolding to his full, staggering height, he stood back, an expression of plain relish on his face at what he had created.
“Now give me your mouth, Darcy.”
She launched like a heat-seeking missile and kissed him with everything she had.
“About time,” Grams muttered, though she sounded a little choked up, the old softie.
“Right on, Mrs. C,” Beck said, once he broke their kiss. “Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to take my girl away from all this. Think you can hold down the fort here?”
“Go, go!” Grams flapped her birdlike hands. “I need to do the rounds and squeeze more money out of these clam-fisted tightwads.”
On ramshackle legs, Darcy leaned down and kissed Grams on the cheek. “You sure you can manage?” She motioned to her ripped dress and bared shoulders. “I might look like a walking middle finger to your donors, but I can stay if you need me.”
“Be gone, girl. Someone else can put in the work for a change.” Grams curved her regal gaze behind Darcy. “Tori! Get your plastic butt over here and push.”
Beck was already half carrying, half dragging Darcy to the exit. Past Chicago’s glitterati. Past a parade of shocked, pursed mouths. Past her stone-faced father.
She stopped and pivoted. “Just a second.”
“You sure?” Beck asked, concern bracketing his mouth.
Her father stood, age and disappointment sketched in craggy lines on his face. “Darcy.”
Looping her arms around his neck, she hugged him for the first time in so long it brought tears to her eyes.
“Thank you, Dad. Thank you for pissing me off so much that it made me strong and beautiful.” She smiled up at his flinty gaze. “Call me when you’re ready to talk.”
Sometimes you forgive people simply because you still want them in your life, but if her father wanted more, he would need to meet her halfway. She refused to allow another bead of toxicity to burn her skin. Taking Beck’s hand, she led him from the ballroom and didn’t look back.
In the Drake’s foyer, Beck placed his fireman’s jacket over her exposed shoulders, and the protective gesture loosened that painful knot beneath her breastbone and activated the waterworks. He crushed her to his strong chest and gave her a few precious moments to lose it. The tension sloughed away with every jerky sob until she rested, boneless and spent in his arms.
“Happy?” he murmured.
“Ecstatic,” she said thickly into his neck. Peeking up, she met the serious blue gaze of her first and last love. “I love you, Beck.”
“I know.” He pressed a soft kiss to her lips that turned ferocious in seconds. A soul kiss that went on forever, but was still over too soon.
Behind her, she heard an interrupting cough. The mayor stood with a smirk on his face, a redhead on his arm, and a security team bringing up the rear.
“Nice exit, monkey,” Eli said, kissing her damp cheek. “Very colorful.”
She sniffed, not quite ready or willing to pull it together. “Watch out, Mr. Mayor. Standing too close to me, you might lose some voters.”
“Or attract the youth base. If they actually voted.” He shifted his sharp gaze to Beck and back to Darcy. “Surely you have better manners than your grandmother, Darcy Cochrane.”