Page 34 of Live for Me

She got what she wanted.

“You need to leave,” she said, sounding tired, dragging me out of my thoughts.

I watched as she bent over, the hem of her shirt lifting as she reached for something on the floor. My gut tightened at the sight, and the front of my jeans suddenly felt uncomfortable.

Fucking hell.

I should’ve looked away from her, I shouldn’t have noticed the way that damned t-shirt rode up, giving me a full view of her bare hip and a peek of her lace underwear. I’d already had to grab a handful of them from her damn dresser, enough to fill my fantasies for the next three years. My cock twitched in my jeans, feeling something it hadn’t in years, reacting to just a few inches of skin.

Jesus fucking shit.

When she rose back up to her full height, she muttered a curse, inspecting her cell phone.

“Call the cops, and I’ll redden your ass” I warned, my voice low as I pictured the sight of it. Before I allowed myself to bring up old, but tempting memories, I rolled my neck from side to side, mentally shaking the desire off.

Her head shot up to me, her brown eyes filled with anger as her mouth got tight. “I’m not calling the damn cops, even though I should.”

I exhaled through my nose, growing tired of her bullshit already. We hadn’t even been around each other for an hour. That was just how it was between me and my wildflower. We were fire and gasoline. Either we’d rise in the flames together, or we’d let them consume us, destroying us completely.

Clearly, she’d chosen the latter.

“I need to get back to the ranch before noon, Abbie. Let’s get a move on,” I ordered, grinding my jaw.

She muttered something about her screen being cracked, ignoring me.

“I can have Milly look at it when we get into Hayden,” I told her.

“I don’t need to go to Milly when I can take it somewhere here in the city to get it fixed,” she shot back, shooting daggers at me with her eyes.

Yeah, I’d had enough of this.

“Fuck it, I guess you don’t need pants,” I murmured.

Before she registered what I’d meant, her shit was on the bed, and I was coming for her. She held her hands up in protest, backing into her nightstand. “I am not going—oof!”

She was on my shoulder again, her weight calming me. She was in my arms, which meant she was the safest she could be. “You’ve got to start listening to me,” I grumbled, banding my arm around her and grabbing her bag and boots in the other hand.

“Put me down!” she screeched, hitting my back with her fists.

I shook my head as I went down the hall, knowing damn well she wasn’t hitting me as hard as she wanted. I’ve seen her knock out a grown man before. She wasn’t putting in as much effort. “You can hit me harder, Abbie,” I invited gruffly, coming into her living room. “I can take it.”

“I can’t stand you, Beau!” she shouted, growling and trying to buck out of my hold.

Those fucking words.

I let out a growl of my own, tightening my arm around her and jolting my shoulder. Her breath hitched as I warned, “Your ass is in the air, Abbie. Don’t fucking tempt me. Not now.”

As I was about to take us into the foyer, something in the corner of my eye caught my attention. A bouquet of white and yellow roses sat in the middle of her coffee table, a black box sitting beside it. I made a mental note to come back and look once I got her in the truck. I carried her through the foyer, out the door, and into the sprinkling rain. I threw her bag and boots in the back of the truck before opening the passenger door.

As expected, she fought me the entire time.

Once I had her ass in the seat, she was swatting at me, kicking her feet, doing everything she could to prevent this.

“God fucking dammit,” I bit off, snatched both her wrists in one hand and forcing my body between her legs as they hung out of the truck. I leaned down into her space, my upper lip curling. “Quit being a fucking brat, Abbie May Spears.” The sky opened up some more, and the sprinkles morphed into fat raindrops, soaking my back as I hovered over her. Her eyes were wide, her breaths coming out as soft pants, the sound going straight to my cock, keeping the damn thing hard.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Beau Darren Marks,” she spat back, baring her pretty teeth to me.

I cocked my head to the side, eyes narrowing. “Telling you what to do is my favorite fucking pastime, Abbie. Here,” I said, reaching for the glove box and pulling out what I needed, “watch this.”

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