Page 49 of Shark’s Rise

Just as swiftly, she wrenched off from my grasp. “Sebastian, stop. You don’t have to tow me around like a child.”

She ended it with a scowl. I refrained from doing the same, though hated how I likely looked more like her reprimanding father than her concerned boyfriend. But my patience was wearing thin. I didn’t like treating her like a child but didn’t want to feel like I had to. She’d heard the doctor’s instructions as clearly as I had.

“Why are you being so defiant?” I muttered, impaling her gaze with mine. “Dr. Landon gave you specific, essential instructions for taking care of yourself today, yet you’re parading around like everything is normal.”

She exposed her locked teeth. “I. Feel. Fine.”

“But you aren’t! Do you want to end up in the hospital? Jesus, Abbi. You haven’t eaten a thing all day.”

“That’s not true,” she argued. “I had…” But then she trailed off, not able to name a single thing that had entered her mouth today. Because nothing had.

“Bed. Now.” I ordered it with a full glower. “Then some food. No options, no detours.”

She abandoned her feral fury for a bottom-lipped pout, tempting me to bite her, spank her, and kiss her at once. I didn’t give myself a chance to succumb, pulling her back through the dining room and den, toward the front staircase.

“Oh, God, it’s so good to be home,” she said as we walked.

I squeezed her hand. “And it feels good to have you home, baby.”

She wrapped an arm around my waist. “Thank you for this,” she murmured. “For bringing me back where I belong. It feels so right to be here. To really call this place home.”

“Oh, don’t try to butter me up now, young lady.” Though my tone was teasing, the statement was more truth than I let on. My body, heart, and soul were wrapped around this woman like rubber bands on a glue stick. Not that I needed to tell her that. Not right now, when I was maintaining the upper hand by mere fingernails.

It was seriously time to change the subject. Or maybe just segue it.

“Does that mean you want to raise our family here?” I asked as we headed up the stairs. “Or would you prefer finding a new place together?”

“I love this house. I can’t see a point to moving. And there’s certainly enough space here. We could have ten children and still have room,” she said while we reached the top of the stairs, giving her a perfect chance to spin in a giddy circle—which resulted in her dizzy little stumble and my not-so-little panic attack.

“Fuck!” I seized her waist and pulled her against my body. At once I had a hand braced to the side of her head, compelling her stare right up into mine. “All right, into bed with you. Before you bring my early death.”

I took no pains to turn that one into a joke, but Abbi snickered anyway. “Maybe I can talk you into joining me?” She waggled her eyebrows while grabbing her bottom lip under her teeth. Christ. The little minx really was going to put me six feet under before our kid saw the light of day.

“Convincing will not be necessary,” I husked back. “I can definitely assure you.”

She let out another laugh. Her eyes twinkled like lusty fireflies. “Ohhh, really?”

“But later,” I emphasized.

“You’re no fun.”

“Because that’s not resting.”

She tried a new pout, but I gamely ignored it while getting her settled into a nest of pillows. During her ordeal with the IV treatment in the desert, I’d fast learned how she liked the security of the extra cushions. I’d seen a full-body pillow in one of those airline catalogs always filled with extravagant products for silly people, but I fully admitted I was now one of those dorks. I needed to learn where to get a few of those things. Sounded like a good job for my sister. Pia always knew about this sort of thing.

By the time I closed the shutters and then turned back to the bed, Abbigail was asleep. “Somebody’s ‘just fine,’ hmmm?” I whispered before kissing her temple and then pulling the quilt up and over her.

After leaving the bedroom, I jogged downstairs again. On the way back to my office, my cell phone rang in my hand. It was a local Los Angeles number but one I didn’t recognize.

“Hello? Sebastian Shark?”

“Speaking,” I stated. “Who is this?”

“Name’s Bob McKenzie. I’m—”

“Right. I know who you are, Mr. McKenzie. We met briefly at the groundbreaking for the Edge.”

“For all of ten seconds. Damn, you have a good memory.”