“Yes.”
She stops short, blinking and swallowing quickly. There’s just a flash of fear on her face, but then it’s gone, replaced by fierceness.
“Yeah,” I say, quieter this time. “There’s more coming, and they’re not gonna stop. So we need to go, now.”
“No,” Abby spits, crossing her arms over her soft, full chest. “Uh-uh. I walked away to get away from—”
“And I made a vow,” I growl, my voice edged, my eyes blazing at her as I move closer. “I made a vow to protect you, angel, and to keep you safe. And right now, to do that, we need to go. Both of us.”
She chews on her lip, eying me, like she’s deciding. And me? Well, my whole fucking body is waffling between wanting to say fuck it to her little attitude and just drag her on out of here, and wanting to yank her into my arms again and kiss those perfect lips until they’re swollen and sore. Maybe both.
“And if I refuse?”
My brow arches, and my lips pull back in a small, smug smile.
“You planning on refusing?”
“I haven’t made up mind yet,” she mutters back. “But if I do?”
I shrug. “Then I throw that pretty ass over my shoulder and carry you out of here.”
I can’t quite tell if it’s indignation or raw lust, but whatever it is that sears through her and flashes through her eyes at my words leaves her flushed and shivering.
Abby swallows thickly.
“I think you should go.”
“I think I should go too, but you’re coming with me.”
“Like hell I am.”
My eyes narrow at her, but fuck does that sass get my blood roaring hot inside. That defiance gets my cock thickening in my jeans, and I groan as I step towards her.
“Abby—”
“No,” she huffs, shaking her head. “You can’t just waltz in here and… and kiss me like nothing’s—” She gasps as my hands slide over her waist, fingers brushing the lace edge of her panties as I yank her against me. My blood thunders through my veins, and the last possible shred of me holding back from taking her right here and now and showing her how mine she is begins to unravel.
“Yeah, angel,” I growl, my lips brushing hers as she gasps quietly.
“Yeah, I can.”
My lips crush to hers, and instantly, the whole world goes numb. Time stops, the Earth stops spinning. The fact that half the mob is probably on their way here right now, or the fact that she’s still supposed to be mad at me just disappears. She whimpers into my mouth, and fuck, all that shit just fades away as I kiss her with everything I have and everything I am. Abby moans into my lips, her body pressing into mine, her fingers finding my t-shirt and holding on tight as I kiss her mouth the way I’ve wanted to for the last six goddamn months.
But suddenly, with a gasp, she pulls away, and before I even see it coming, her hand flies back and then slaps me hard across my cheek. I grunt, but when I look back, I see her eyes go wide, her hands flying to her mouth.
“Oh my God, Colm…”
But I’m not angry. Fuck, maybe I had that coming after the last six months.
…Maybe that kind of fire in her gets me even harder.
But either way, we’re out of time. There’s so much more to say, and more to hash out, but this is not the time or place. Because we need to move, now.
“Well,” I purr, eyeing her as she slowly pulls away from me, her eyes wide. “So much for the easy way.”
Abby shrieks as my hands suddenly yank her up, tossing her face-down across my shoulder and turning for the door.
“Damnit, Colm!”
She screams, pummeling my broad, muscled chest with her fists and squirming against me. But I don’t even budge. I just keep striding right out of the kitchen, through her living room, over Nino on the floor and right out the smashed front door.
I let her walk away once. I let her slip out of my life, and I’ve spent six months in hell ever since.
So she wants to be mad? Fine. She wants to hiss swears in my ears from that sweet little mouth as her fists rain down on my back? She can go right ahead.
Because the only thing that matters, as far as I’m concerned, is that she’s back in my arms.
…Where she was always meant to be.
4
Abby
Four flights of stairs later, I’ve stopped fighting him. I’ve stopped swearing at him, and kicking him, and squirming against his firm grip. For one, because I know how useless it is with a man as huge and as strong as Colm. But for two?
My face blushes.
Reason number two is because writhing against his rock-hard shoulder and arm muscles and trying to squirm my way out of that possessive, firm grip isn’t getting me any freer.