Page 73 of Dolly

Brian’s eyes narrow slightly. “Do you trust me, Abigail?”

“In the sense that when he arrests you, you won’t tell them where to find me? Yes.” I give a sharp nod.

The side of his mouth kicks up into a lazy grin. How can I concentrate on getting him to do what I want when he starts looking sexy and relaxed?

“In the sense that you trust my judgement.”

I groan. “Of course I do. But what if this is a trap? They’ve been looking for us for three months.” The wind blows my hair in front of my face, probably making me look a hell of a lot less fierce than I’m trying for at the moment.

“And they haven’t found us,” he points out. This pretty house on the lake isn’t traceable to either of us. As much as I wanted to flee, get out of the country altogether, Brian insisted we see how everything plays out. If the police won’t continue their investigations into the other girls, he promised me we can. So, I haven’t pushed him about heading south of the border.

“By luck, I’m sure.” I scoff.

“You doubt me so much already?” His eyes darken.

“No, of course not. But we can’t stay here forever. There’s no way Pierce just lets you walk out of that diner, never to search for us again. You heard the news. They haven’t given up.”

For the first month, we were the hot story—two vigilantes hunting down child rapists, a sex trafficking ring brought down by two of its victims. Hell, I think a few reporters wanted us to be caught just so they could get an exclusive. They haven’t painted us as horrible as I suspected they would, but it hasn’t exactly been favorable.

By the second month, with no leads to find us, the news reports lost most some interest, and now we’re a ten second spot once or twice a week.And the search continues for Abigail Johansen and Brian Mortonis the extent of our story.

“This will end it, and then we can really be free. We can leave or we can stay.” Brian lets go of the railing and cups my chin. “Our real life starts right after this meeting.”

“There’s enough money left from my dad’s closet for us to leave right now,” I argue. “We don’t have to talk to him. We don’t have to risk it.” Why can’t we just run away without chancing never seeing each other again?

“If we leave, we might not know if they are going to keep hunting down the other people involved. This was bigger than Bossman and Romero. Bigger than the department.”

He’s right, and there was a time I wanted to hunt down every last one of them to make them pay for what they did—what they are still doing. But do I now, when we’re so close to absolute freedom?

Brian’s waiting for me to say or do something. He’s waiting for me to mull everything over and come to the right conclusion. His conclusion, most likely. Bossy man.

“You’re going to go with or without my blessing.” I decide to stand neutral.

Both his eyebrows raise, and he lets go of my chin. “Yeah. I am.” He nods.

“Well.” I exaggerate a sigh. “I suppose we should get one more fuck in before you leave. After you meet him, you’ll be playing bitch to some big monster in prison.” I dance around him and run through the patio door into the bedroom, leaving him on the balcony.

“You think so, huh? You better be naked with your legs spread wide for me when I get in there.” It’s meant to be a threat, except nothing Brian does scares me. And he’s proven to be as dark and devious in bed as out of it.

I wiggle out of the tank top and shorts I’m wearing and toss them across the room before jumping onto the bed. I’m barely comfortable before his hulking body lands on top of me.

“One last fuck, huh?” He yanks my thighs apart. There’s a savage look about him when he gets like this. A primal energy surrounds him as he cups my ass, pulling me toward him. He’s already stripped, and his hard cock impales me in one movement.

I cry out, not because of the pain, but because of how easily he fulfills that need in me. How quickly the dueling demons in my soul settle when he takes everything over.

His mouth crushes mine, and I grab hold of him to keep him from pulling away. Urgency burns within me as he bucks forward again and again, driving hard into me.

He breaks the kiss, but doesn’t leave me. He trails kisses down my jaw.

“Abigail,” he growls, but it sounds like an accusation. “Fuck. Abigail.” He presses me hard into the mattress, pumping into me over and over. The springs squeak beneath us, the headboard hits the wall, but it’s just the music we dance to.

“Don’t.” I wrap my legs around his waist, stopping him from pulling away.

He laughs.

“You’re telling me no?” He tugs on my earlobe.

“No. I’m telling you don’t stop,” I correct him, though how I manage words when my breath is caught in my throat is unknown. “Don’t stop. Ever.”

---