Page 61 of Illicit Heir

"It is what I want. I don't ever want to see ya again."

It's another knife to my chest. But I'm no quitter. Now she's in front of me, I'm not leaving until I've exhausted all my options to have her again. So I grab the back of her hair, tug, and slide my other hand over her throat.

Her eyes widen. I lean my face over hers and slowly grip my fingers around her neck.

She can still breathe; I've not cut the air supply off yet. And I see all her thoughts in her eyes.

Her hatred for me runs deep. The lust swirling beside it is a powerful aphrodisiac, tormenting me. It propels me to give her more than what I gave her the last time I was here.

She manages to get out, "Go."

I ignore her order, warning, "Let me be very clear. Caleb is not the man for ya." I squeeze my fingers a little bit tighter and kiss near her earlobe.

She shudders softly and whimpers.

Fuck, I've missed this.

I assess her, unable to take my eyes off her blues. "Do ya understand me, Lauren? I don't want ya with him." I release the pressure on her neck.

She chokes out, "I'm not with him. I can't stand him, just like I can't stand ya."

Her words continue to cut me. They shouldn't. Words never hurt, but how she looks at me and says it affects me. It's something I've not felt before and takes me by surprise.

After a moment, I recover. I stress, "I don't want him in here around ya. Do ya understand?" I step back, needing a minute to breathe and figure out my next move.

She sarcastically laughs, "Do ya actually think I have a choice to allow him in or not? Not that it's any of your business."

I insist, "I don't want him around ya."

Helplessness fills her expression. "Do ya think I have choices like you do? Let me assure ya, I don't."

Her statement's a slap in the face. Alaina pops into my mind, mad as hell, lecturing me about how O'Leary women don't have choices. For the first time, I understand she's right.

Still, I don't want Caleb anywhere around Lauren. And I'm not sure of the solution to keep him out of the pub, so I suddenly feel as helpless as she looks.

Another tear falls down her cheek, and she swipes at it, declaring, "There's no reason for ya to be here. All you're going to do is put me in danger. Is that what ya want, Devin? Do ya want Caleb to do something to hurt me and punish me for ya being here?"

"Of course not," I assert.

She softens her tone. "Then ya need to go."

She's right, but my body won't move now that I'm here. I can't leave. I've obsessed over her, thinking every moment about trying to reignite the feeling I had when I was with her. And I curse myself again for even going down the road of coming here in the first place. If I could do the night over and never have come here, I would. In my mission to quench my boredom, I created a new problem.

"So ya do want to hurt me," she accuses, stepping away from the counter and out of my grasp.

I shake my head, softening my tone. "No, I don't want to hurt ya. I've never wanted to hurt ya."

"Didn't ya? Isn't that why ya came here that night? To hurt me?" she insists, the pain in her voice digging into my heart.

"No, that wasn't my intention."

"Then what was your intention? Why did ya come into my pub?"

I blurt out, "It was just an itch I needed to scratch. Something I needed to do."

Her face turns slightly green. Horror lights up her features. Her lips and voice shake harder. "I was an itch?"

I scrub my hand over my face. "That came out wrong."

---