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The promise in her words hit him sexually for some reason. “You can fight me all night at our house.”
“You want me to go with you to your house? We’re not officially married yet, remember? I’m not officiallyanythingand neither are you, other than a real piece of work. You have me and my whole family drugged and imprisoned. You have some nerve coming here making demands of me after that.”
“Your uncles called me,” he reminded. “And where are they? They’re gone because they know this isn’t their fight. It’s mine. And now the Twelve’s.”
He held her gaze and the glitter of her tears punched him in the chest. “I just want…my son, Samuel.”
He shook his head at her, dumbfounded. “What the fuck do you think I want, Ma Cherie? What thefuckdo you think I’m doing?”
“You’re causing trouble!” she accused, her voice breaking as she wiped her face, pacing. “Now you wanna talk about us? After you sabotaged me getting my son?”
“You fucking know he was setting you up. He wasn’t giving you anything!” Fuck, how could she ever dream otherwise? He lowered his head, breathing through his anger. “Come home with me, Cherie.” He shook his head at the desperate sound in his voice. “I just…want to fucking love you.”
****
Cherie’s breath flew from her lungs at the terrible need in his voice. She fought with her stupid anger, wanting to hold him and send all the demons tormenting his beautiful soul back to hell.
She headed down the steps.
“Where are you going?” he half demanded behind her.
She stopped and turned at the bottom step. “I thought we were leaving?”
He stared at her and even in the low light his brilliant blue eyes raked fire over her soul. She couldn’t escape his stare even as he descended the steps. She was still stuck when he stood before her, fierce and burning her alive. He moved past her while his eyes remained locked on hers, capturing her hand in his as he went. She spent the next minutes following after him and fighting to recover everything he’d just stripped from her with that look.
He didn’t speak as he led her to the pier at the end of the yard. Not a word when he climbed in the boat and wrapped his strong hands around her waist and hoisted her in it like a doll.
She sat directly across from him and watched his face as he drove the little boat through the darkness. Her heart knew what was coming. Every beat took such a mean swing at her chest like it wanted to break free of her and jump right into the arms of that beautiful man.
At his pier, he secured the boat and again hoisted her out and led her without a word to his little house. Every step was life and death. One to her grave, the next to her resurrection. Both were coming. And once she went in that house, it was done. She was over. A part of her said run for it and another said, yes. Finally. Bring it.
She stepped inside and he led her through a darkness filled with the smell of leather, mint, and everything heaven. He directed her to sit in the chair next to the fireplace. Still no words, only the soft thonk of his boots as he moved from one lamp to the next, chasing away the shadows in and around her with their soft yellow glow.
She rubbed her arms as she watched him light the small fireplace next, moving like a man with a plan. Knowing was usually half the battle but not this time, not with him. There was something different in him. She couldn’t shake the feeling that he carried a rod of reproof with her name all over it. And he was gonna use it on her. It would break her and remake her.
Her heart sped up at realizing he was finally done, and the clonk of his boots headed slowly her way. He stopped before the fire, giving her his backside.
She stared up at his form, hidden by the black leather duster reaching the floor. The matching hat, wicked scar, and icy blue eyes made him a terrifying vision from her most erotic dreams. Dreams where she ran from everything she feared and yet secretly craved.
He slowly removed his hat and lowered it along with his head. The sound of his breath leaving his lungs yanked painfully in her chest. He took three slow steps and hung the hat on the wall. Her mouth went dry as she eyed the scar peeking through the dark hair hanging along his face. He slowly removed his coat next, and her pulse sped up at the ripple of muscle beneath the black t-shirt as he hung it next to his hat.
She parted her lips, needing more air when he took hold of the hem of his shirt and slowly removed it. He held the clothing in his hands before him for several seconds then let it fall to the floor at his feet. The sight of his tight, milky torso moving with his labored breaths sent her heart from her chest to her womb. It beat there with no mercy, and she surely wanted none when it came to him and this.
“I’m going to take a shower, Ma Cherie,” he said quietly, his gaze making it halfway between them. “And when I come out…” he went on in decadent warning. “I’m going to marry you.Allfucking night.”
****
The second the bathroom door closed, she shot off the chair only to stand immobile, other than the hyperventilating. To think and fear or do anything productive burned up with everything else. There was no putting out the fire raging in her. And he hadn’t even touched her. Or married her. Married her all night. Allfuckingnight.
It was that… fucking addendum. That's what had her fighting to breathe around the whale in her throat. That one word saturated every part of her in gas. Just a look, a flick of his finger or God, his perfect, righteous tongue and boom, she was done to a crisp.
She needed to prepare.
She paced about in square circles.
Help me God.
Help me Lord.
