Cherise Sinclair: Edge of the Enforcer

What was her other choice? She could return to San Francisco, where her two best friends lived—ones who would drop everything to support her.

Return to where she had an awesome job and a fantastic boss.

Return to where she had a club to play in and a duplex she loved. And where she could watch the ongoing saga of Dixon and Stan. Her lips curled up. How could she resist?

“Isn’t this strange? I’ve wanted to come back to Texas and take up my life again, and somehow, without realizing it, I made a new life. New friends. New family.”

His hands tightened painfully on her hips. “Go on,” he said softly.

“I want to live in San Francisco. With you.” She put her hand on her chest, feeling breathless. God, she was insane—nonetheless, it was true.

He nodded as if he hadn’t cared one way or the other; slowly his fingers relaxed.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You really were willing to live here in Texas?”

“Yeah. I came close to buying the farm last week—but I wasn’t fucking about to leave you. I figure you dragged me back to the living.” He curled his hand around her nape. His grip hadn’t changed a bit—unbreakable and determined—just like his words. “I go where you go, Tex.”

“Same here.”

Whatever he saw in her face made him smile. He drew closer, rubbed his cheek against hers, then took her lips in a kiss so deep and wet that she heard her sisters cheering—before the roaring in her ears washed them away.

No, home wasn’t a state—not California or Texas. Instead, her home was one damn big Dom. Rough-hewn, and deadly when crossed. Blunt, grumpy at times, dominating and possessive.

Yep, right here, wrapped in the Enforcer’s arms, was where she belonged.