The Bad Guy
“How?”
“We need a plan, but we can’t do a damn thing until you sober up.” He grabbed under one of my arms and motioned for Timothy to get the other. Together, they helped me out of the greenhouse, down the back hallway, and then dumped me onto the couch in the library.
Dad grabbed a throw blanket and tossed it over me. “Sober up. We’ll talk in the morning.”
“Give me the bottle.” I reached for it, but apparently swiped at my father’s double and came back with nothing but air in my palm.
“Not a chance. Come on, Timothy, let’s have a chat.” Dad walked out with Timothy at his heels and killed the lights.
The low fire sent shadows dancing all over the room. Everything reminded me of her. A book still open on the table where she’d left it next to her journal, her fleeting scent in the air, the chair she favored. Every detail built on the last. She was everywhere and nowhere. More stabbing pain, more overwhelming emotion that I wished would stop.
I clenched my eyes shut. She appeared behind my lids, her eyes glittering as she laughed and turned to run. I chased her. Would never stop chasing her.
45
Link
The Chinese food in my arms sent up curls of steam as I stood on Camille’s front porch. I figured there was no way she’d had time to make a grocery run—especially on Christmas Day—since she’d returned from her trip, so I’d picked up her favorite Chinese from town on the way here. I was thoughtful like that.
She opened the door and looked past me, as if searching for someone in the street or the bushes.
“Right here.” I smiled down at her.
She stepped back and opened the door wide. “Sorry about that.”
Her hair draped over one shoulder, and she wore a cozy white sweater and some dark gray pants. My cock twitched with anticipation. Surely, after time away, she’d realized we were meant to be and she’d finally, finally, give it up.
“I brought your favorite.” I strode into the kitchen and set the box of food on her table. “Thank god Mr. Xiao’s was open.”
“It smells like heaven.” She followed me and opened a cabinet to grab some plates.
I walked up behind her and wrapped her in my arms. “I missed you so much.”
She rested her hands on my forearms as I nuzzled into her fragrant hair. “I missed you, too.”
“Yeah?” I turned her around and kissed her hard. She needed to know how much I felt for her, how every moment without her was torture.
I ran my hands down her sides to her ass, squeezing and lifting her onto the counter. She pushed on my chest, but I wouldn’t be denied. Not this time. Her lips parted on a noise, and I delved inside, tasting her while running my hands beneath her shirt, her body so warm and smooth. I needed more. My thumb grazed the bottom of her tit, the softest skin in the world.
She leaned back and broke the kiss. “Hey, slow down.”
“I can’t.” I pulled her closer so she could feel how hard I was. “I love you.”
“Link.” She pushed against me. “Please. Just give me a minute, okay?”
Silly me to expect an “I love you” back. Fuck.
I tried to measure her unwillingness, testing to see if it was something I could overcome. The hard set of her little jaw told me it was a losing battle. I had to time this just right, find a way to get past her usual skittishness. Our time apart—and the bizarre incident with Sebastian—only reinforced my need to get her under my thumb. Just the thought of her with him burrowed under my skin. She was mine. I’d put in the hours. There was no way I’d let another man step in front of me in line. Her pussy had my claim stamped all over it.
I ran my palm down her cheek and forced a smile. “Sorry, babe. I got a little carried away.”
“It’s okay.” She patted me on the chest. “I’m just hungry and tired is all.”
“In that case, lucky for you, your prince has arrived.” I lifted her off the counter and scooted her into a chair at the table. “I’m excellent at serving food from Chinese cartons and, even better, I’m kind of a BFD when it comes to tucking you into bed.”
She smiled, the strain leaving her face. “My champion.”
“You bet.” I stowed my disappointment and played the dutiful boyfriend, asking questions about the Amazon and her trip as we ate.
She answered slowly, focusing more on her food than telling me about her expedition. My heart warmed—maybe she didn’t have a great time because she’d missed me so much?
I popped the last wonton into my mouth. “So why cut it short?”
“Funding dried up sooner than we thought.” She rose and put our dishes in the sink.