Page 45 of Can’t Fight This Feeling

“What?” Arthur rubs his hand over his face.

“Some young woman with more stealth than sense. I took care of it.” I correct myself. “Well, I called Richards and he took care of her.”

“Richards?” He furrows his brow. “Why didn’t you call the cops?”

“Because I didn’t need a whole bunch of questions about what happened to Marcy on top of everything else. She didn’t need that circus either.” I shake my head. “You remember what happened the last time.”

“Yeah.” Arthur relaxes a bit, his hands flexing against the table’s surface. “But she’s all right?”

“Marcy? Yeah, she’s good. Tougher than she looks.” I sip my wine.

“I’ll check on her tomorrow.” My friend slumps back in his chair looking exhausted. “Fuck. Why didn’t she tell me when I called her last night?”

“She probably didn’t want you to worry. You can get a little overbearing when you’re all worked up.” I smile. “It’s not a bad thing, but sometimes she wants to fight her own battles, big brother. You can’t do it for her.”

“I know...but shit, I hate feeling so damned helpless.”

“Amen to that.” I salute him with the glass.

“Thanks for coming to her rescue.”

“It’s the least I could do.”

My stomach twists in knots. I should tell him that we hooked up. But I don’t think he needs to hear how many times I railed his little sister after confessing my longstanding affection for her the same night as two traumatic events.

“I should go. It’s been a long day.”

Kate appears with a frown. “Leaving so soon?”

“Yeah, it’s been a long week.”

She laughs. “It’s only Wednesday.”

“It’s Friday in my mind thanks to these eighteen-hour shifts.” I kiss her on the cheek. “Thanks for dinner. It hit the spot.”

Arthur shakes my hand. “Thanks again for everything. The Black Penny on Friday night?”

“Sounds great.” I head for the door, petting Tabby on my way out.

The emptiness of my apartment leaves a lot to be desired, but I’m too tired to care. With a full belly, the exhaustion sinks in fast. I manage to change into sleep pants before collapsing into bed. My head hits the pillow, and I’m sinking into dreamland fast.

Shit. I forgot to call Marcy. Fuck.

Sleep evades me, and I stare at the ceiling, wondering if she’s going to kill me for neglecting her all week. It’s not that I wanted to. Far from it.

I want her all the time. Her company. Her conversation. Her pussy clenched around my cock. Her taste on my tongue. I want all of her. But I haven’t figured out how to convince her to take the next logical step.

Now that I’ve had her, I want everything. Nothing will fill this ache in my chest. I should know; I’ve tried to fill it before. Marcy’s the only one I want.

I love her, and I don’t want to live without her. But how the hell do I make her see sense?

I’m not like them.

Shit. Time’s ticking, and I’m not getting any younger. I’d rather negotiate with a strung-out addict than Marcy. She’s dead set on remaining single. But I’ve tasted what we could have together. So has she. Maybe it’s time I upped the ante.

Chapter Seventeen

Marcy

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