Page 62 of Rock Strong

“Hi, Abby. Sorry to surprise you.” What he gave me wasn’t really a smile so much as a regretful look, but it was going to take more than looking cute, a few flowers, and smelling amazing to convince me of anything.

“What are you doing here?” I turned, facing the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the street below.

“I only want to talk to you, love.”

Love? That was a new one. I wanted to snort. What I did was melt inside. But only for the brief seconds it took me to pull myself together. “Leave me alone. You’ve done enough.”

“I won’t take no for an answer.”

“Is that right?” I stood suddenly, slinging my bow across the room. It landed in my open case. “Well, you better start learning how. You don’t get everything you want, Liam Collier. You don’t get me.” My palm struck my own chest.

“I didn’t come to claim you. I only came to talk to you. Won’t you listen? That’s all I’m asking.”

My head dropped, my chest heaved. I sank into the chair and sighed. “I’m listening.”

His presence, his aura, his cloud of Liam-ness drifted closer until the familiar scent of his skin again filled my senses, torturing me. “Just hear me out.”

He crouched by my feet. I did not meet his eyes, kept my focus on his boots instead. His soft hand gently slid over mine. I fought the urge to fling him away.

“I’m sorry I hurt you. Giselle means nothing to me. I was trying to figure out how I felt, testing myself to see how much I loved you.”

“Well, I failed that test then, didn’t I?”

“No, you didn’t.” He clutched my hand tighter. Pulled me just a tiny bit closer. “That’s why I’m here.” His fingers lifted my chin, and for the first time in almost two weeks, I gazed into his light brown eyes. “I’m here because you mean everything to me. I haven’t stopped thinking about you. I’ll stop all shenanigans for you, I swear. They don’t mean anything now that you’re in my life.”

“I was in your life, Liam. Not anymore.” I yanked my hands out of his.

His eyebrows drooped at the corners. “Don’t say that, please.”

“Liam, you don’t understand,” I said. “I can’t cope with what I saw. I’m not built for it. How do I know it won’t happen again? I can’t always be looking over my shoulder, worried that someone prettier, sexier, with bigger boobs is going to come along to tempt you. I can’t do it.” My eyes squeezed shut, pressing out tears I hadn’t even known were brimming.

“I suspected I loved you before I ruined everything. I know it now. Without a doubt. I know we just met, but in just a few days, I felt a connection I’ve never felt in my life. I know we can make it together. You’re everything I’ve always wanted.”

No, it wasn’t possible. We were overtaken by emotions, infatuation. That was all. It felt like love, but it wasn’t. I would always be contending with other women and his lifestyle, the very subculture that had built him. A way of life that paid his bills. Who was I to come along and turn him into a good boy, betraying every fan who adored him for the wild man he was?

“No.” I pushed his hand away and moved to the window. “It can’t work. I live in New York. My dreams are here. Yours are worldwide. You’re always on the road. You’ll never settle. Just leave me in peace, please.”

Just then, I felt him close the space between us, and he laced his warm arms around me, holding me close, his hands pulling back my shoulders. Instinctively, my head fell back against him. “Abby, don’t say these things,” he said. “You’re just angry. You have every right to be, but—”

“No, Liam!” I ripped myself away. I couldn’t give in to my body’s wishes again. Look where that had gotten me—hurt and humiliated in front of everyone.

“Abby…” He held his arms out at his sides, pleading. “Hit me.”

“What? No.”

He rushed up and scooped up my hands. “Yes, hit me. Hurt me like I hurt you.”

“I don’t want to,” I hissed. “I’m not like you.”

“Yes, you are. You’re just like me, goddamn it!” He was practically screaming when he had no right to. “You love with all your heart, you hurt with all your soul, you do it all the way or not at all. You”—he grabbed my hands and struck his chest with them—“are just like me. Now hit me.”

“Leave me alone,” I growled.

“You were just as afraid of me as I was of you.”

“What?” I narrowed my eyes at him. “That’s a lie. I was never afraid of you.”

“Really? Then why did I see a text where you told Rosemary you weren’t sure what to think of me yet? Huh? After we’d made love three times already? Why couldn’t you be honest and tell me that? Why are we so alike? Huh?” He inched closer, and I knew he was trying to push my buttons, but I would not give in.

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