Page 63 of Rock Strong

“You snooped through my phone?”

“Yes, and I’m sorry, but I had to know what I meant to you. If anything. But I guess the answer is nothing, so if you want, I’ll just leave.” His pleading look was killing me. Those eyes.

“No. Don’t go,” I heard myself say.

What? Why had I said that? What did I want?

“Wait,” I said, backtracking. “I didn’t mean—”

He pulled me in, taking my hands and kissing them. “People make mistakes, Ab. I made a mistake. I was confused. I was falling for you, but I also had a life. I’m willing to give that up, though, because I want you. I choose you. I wouldn’t have come here otherwise.” His voice rumbled low. “Please don’t punish me for being confused…”

I couldn’t listen to him. I understood what he was saying, and I didn’t hate him anymore. I wasn’t angry at him anymore. I just felt we were wrong for each other. “I’m not trying to punish you.” I just couldn’t allow myself to be in a vulnerable position ever again. It hurt too much. “I’m not mad at you, Liam. I forgive you…it’s fine. But…we won’t work. So, please…” It hurt me to say this more than it would hurt for him to hear it. “Just leave.”

His loaded eyes read mine, scanned for signs of a joke, pleaded with me to change my mind. When I said nothing more, he finally blinked, backed away, slowly letting go of my hands. “As you wish.” One last, soft smile, then he turned and headed to the studio door.

My heart broke into a million pieces.

Chapter 22

Liam

I had to try.

I couldn’t have lived with myself if I hadn’t come and said my piece.

At least now she knew where I stood. All cards had been laid out on the table. I wanted her. If she didn’t see the same potential in me, then how could I blame her?

I paused at the door. Not to be dramatic, just to wait an extra second. I didn’t want to leave without her. I was about to walk out, shut the door behind me, lose her when she suddenly was running. I turned, and her body pinned mine against the door.

“Liam…” she cried. “Wait.”

Ripe, full lips covered mine. She was on fire, full of the kind of confliction and fervor I’d never seen before in anyone.

“You love me,” I told her. I could feel it. It wasn’t a lie, and it wasn’t infatuation. “Tell me you do.”

“I don’t. I don’t love you. I could hate you right now.” She pounded her fists against my chest.

“But you don’t. You want me.”

“It’s just physical.”

“Then I’ll take whatever you’ll give me.” I hugged her around her waist, nice and tight. I soaked in her aura, even as she slammed her fists against my chest, sobbing, kissing me at the same time. “Abby, what do you want?” I pressed my lips against her cheeks, mouth, and ear.

“I don’t know. I just… I don’t think I can bear it… I don’t want you to go…” Her shoulders shook against my chest.

“Then I won’t.” I locked the door, lifted her off her feet, and carried her over to the opposite mirrored wall. We kissed with her back pressed against the glass. Abby was on fire. To me, she was always full of passion. I’d seen it firsthand with her cello. Some people saw a prim and proper, classically trained musician, but I saw a woman full of zeal for life. Abby didn’t do half-assed-ness. She did things to perfection. Well done or not at all.

Go big or go home.

Nobody understood that more than I did. It was how I operated on a daily basis. It was why Point Break had come as far as it had. We were more alike than she or anyone thought. I wasn’t happy to see her tears, but I was glad they existed, that she felt this strongly about our misunderstanding, my fuckup. I had affected her. The fact she was hurting this much showed she cared. She loved me. I was sure of it.

“I’m so sorry I hurt you. So sorry,” I whispered, nibbling her ear. “You didn’t deserve that.”

Abby’s words seemed to be stuck in her throat, and I still sensed that she didn’t know what she wanted, only that she needed me right now to quell her desires and stress. It was only right. I was the cause of her stress—I should be the one to get rid of it.

When I pulled down the straps of her dress and bra, she arched her chest upward, obviously wanting me to kiss her. I held her tightly against the mirror, her legs wrapped around my waist as I held her bottom with one hand, while my other hand sank deep into her hair. I lowered my face to her breast, taking it into my mouth, circling her nipple with my tongue, sucking it firmly. She moaned, and I released her hair to cup her other breast.

Her hips ground against mine. She was not messing around. Though her brain might still be pissed, her body wanted me inside her, to please her, to make the pain disappear. That was probably wrong, and she simply wanted a release, but I preferred to think that I was capable of lifting all unhappiness off her. I wanted to make her forget her father’s absence, her mother’s disappointment with life. I wanted her to reach her goals and love her life. I knew she was perfectly capable of reaching them without me, but I wanted to share them with her, smile when she got there. I wanted to be in her life when it all happened.

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