A Proposal They Can't Refuse (Vega Family Love Stories, #1)

by Natalie Caña

A girl who grew up on the West Side of Chicago and with four tormenting older brothers knew to strike first and ask questions later.

At some point Liam had turned into a whole snack, and she was feeling decidedly peckish.

She slipped the fingers of both hands through the belt loops at the back of his jeans and yanked hard. Liam jerked and turned his head to glare at her.

“Dude, you’ve had it bad for Kamilah since you were kids. Don’t act like you didn’t jump at the chance to come to her rescue and win your way back into her life.”

Everything about her, from her lush figure and pouty mouth to her mass of dark springy curls and big bright eyes, brought to mind one word: bountiful. Kamilah was a bounty of beauty, energy, and affection, and to be in her presence was to desire to feast. And I want to feast like a Las Vegas tourist at an all-you-can-eat buffet.

The instant their lips touched, some part deep inside himself sighed as if relieved of endless torment. Finally, it seemed to say.

“It’s just interesting to hear you think aloud. Your brain works exactly how I thought it would.” She couldn’t be sure, but she didn’t think that was a compliment. “Yeah, it’s like dropping a box full of bouncy balls off a balcony.”

His fingers twitched and flexed with the desire to sketch her exactly how and where she was at that moment.

“It’s sort of like wine tasting,” Kamilah commented, following his instructions to the letter. Where else would she follow his directions?

“Aye!” Sofi cheered when she heard what song it was. Then she dropped it like it was hot while never losing grip on the pan like the badass she was.

“That’s some misogynist bullshit,” Sofi interjected, hot on his heels. “This song is about a woman’s sexual agency. She’s not playing a game.” Sofi dropped the pan on the counter none too gently. “She’s straight up saying, ‘I can be in the club, acting how I want, dancing how I want, and we can even grind, but don’t think it means I have to have sex with you.’” She advanced on him, but he stood his ground. “‘I make the choice of how far I’m going to go, and I owe you nothing.’” Both hands came up, and the palms were pressed together as if she were praying for this poor idiot man. “And, Leo, the fact you even still think it’s about a woman being a tease or playing some game is proof enough it’s still relevant, and it’s a muthafucking feminist anthem.” “Yas, Queen,” Lucy cheered. “Drag him,” Kamilah said.

“You can do this.” He used the hold he had on her shoulder to pull her to his chest. He enveloped her in his arms and just held on.

“You string together too many words,” Sofi said to Leo. “You need to learn that shutting the fuck up is free, but constantly talking out of your neck can cost you.”

“I want to strip you bare,” he whispered. “And once you’re naked, I’m going to sit you down on my tasting table and do exactly what its name dictates I do.” Kamilah inhaled shakily. “That’s right. I’m going to taste you. I’m going to savor you like one of my whiskeys, and I’m not going to stop until I’m drunk on you.”

Despite their differences, they’d always complemented each other perfectly. Like honey and sriracha, salt and watermelon, chilis and chocolate.

He kissed like he was trying to commit every single second of it to memory. Like he gloried in her lips, worshipped at her tongue, and savored the intricacies of her flavor. Liam kissed her like she was sustenance, like he needed her kisses to live.

“You worked me over like a double batch of sourdough.”

Liam didn’t pretend to misunderstand her concerns over being a brown woman—with big curly hair, even bigger gold hoops, and a nameplate necklace featuring her unusual name—out in an area of the state where the people might not be happy to see her. “Shit. I’m sorry. I was so focused on the surprise, I didn’t think. You can use my hat if you want, and I can lock your jewelry up in the glove compartment.” He paused. “Of course, turning around is always an option.”

“Oh my God, would you look at those arms. He can carry me around on those broad shoulders anytime. That man is a whole damn snack.”

He knew what she meant, but he also thought a lot of it was because of the position she’d put herself in.

“But if I had gone, I’d have missed out on those last months with Abuela, which are the hardest yet most rewarding memories I have of her. If I’d gone, I wouldn’t have been able to build the relationship I now have with Abuelo. I wouldn’t have been here when Saint lost his wife and brought Rosie home because he needed our help. I wouldn’t have been here to get to know your grandfather in a deeper way. I wouldn’t have reconnected with you. There are so many moments that I treasure that I would never have experienced. I choose to focus on that. On what is here and real. Not what might have been.”

He wanted her alone, so he could tear everything off her and make that ass bounce on his lap for his pleasure instead of the pleasure of everyone in the fucking club.

“You’re right. I have been pissed off at the world, and I did my best to make you mad too. I sowed those seeds when you were young and vulnerable, when I should’ve been doing my best to help you heal. It’s my fault your emotional growth was stunted, so I figured it was my responsibility to put you on the right track. It didn’t work out like I thought it would.”