Page 32 of Downfall

Reaching between us, I thank all that is holy that she’s wearing loose joggers as I tease her, dipping my fingers beneath the elastic waistband.

“Please, demon. Make me come. Need you,” she begs, and I growl, shoving my hand into her panties, impaling her on two fingers as soon as I feel how wet she is.

“Fuck, baby, you’re drenched. I can’t wait to sink my cock into your wet pussy.” Circling her pierced clit with my thumb, I feel her clench around my fingers. She’s panting in my ear, so close to coming apart. “Come for me.” Curling my fingers to hit her in just the right spot, I fuck her hard and she loses it.

“Kolson!” she screams, her wetness dripping down my fingers.

Wrapping my arm around her waist to steady her, I drag my fingers out of her and bring them to my mouth. She watches with hooded eyes as I suck them clean, my own eyes closing as I savor her.

Dropping my mouth to her ear, I whisper. “Get in the car, Abby. I’m taking you home.”

I release her, moving around the car to climb into the driver’s seat. When I look in the rearview mirror, she’s gone, then I hear the passenger door click open. She climbs up into the bucket seat, setting her bag by her feet.

Looking over at me, she smiles. “Well, let’s go. I believe promises were made.”

I just smirk and start the car, heading toward the street.

“I moved, by the way. It’s just a couple blocks over,” she tells me. But, of course, I already know that.

“We aren’t going to your apartment.”

“And where are we going?”

“Home.”

Chapter 26

Abby

Aswepullupto a modern building in the heart of Downtown, Kolson drives toward a gate that begins rising automatically, allowing him entry to an underground parking garage. From what I could see, his apartment must cost a small fortune.

“What is this, Kolson? Where are we?” I ask.

“I told you, siren: home.” He parks the Range Rover and climbs out, rounding the front of the car quickly to open my door for me.

He puts my bag over his shoulder and takes my hand, leading toward a nearby elevator. The parking garage only solidifies my theory as I look around at the expensive cars.

“So…” I start as he swipes a card on the pad in the elevator and selects the button for the top floor. “What are you doing for work now?” It’s pretty clear he doesn’t make this kind of money dealing drugs.

He chuckles. “Come inside and I’ll explain everything.”

Keeping my hand solidly in his, he leads me out of the elevator, and I stop in my tracks. His place is amazing. From the entryway, I can see the entire place. The floors are a light hardwood throughout, and the walls are a stark white. The living room takes up the space to the right, with floor to ceiling windows showcasing the entire city and ocean in the distance. A large kitchen is in the center of the open space with black cabinets and hardware. To my left is a formal dining room with an open door adjacent to it, leading to what looks like a home office. Doors on a wall behind the kitchen must lead to bedrooms. It’s enormous, but the warm accents and art make it cozy, and it does feel like home.

Kolson pulls me forward toward the kitchen, gesturing to the barstools at the island. I hop up, not sure what to say. This is surreal.

“Want a drink?” he asks.

“Do you have tea? Chamomile, maybe?” It’s almost two in the morning, and alcohol is the last thing I need.

He nods and fills the tea kettle, setting it back on the stove. I watch him move around the kitchen, looking comfortable in his new skin, and I wonder how long he’s been a suit-wearing businessman. My Kolson wore jeans and old band t-shirts, and stood on a street corner half the night selling his supply. I am having trouble reconciling my demon with this man. This put together, clearly wealthy, and still extremely attractive man.

When he sets my mug of tea in front of me on the island, he stays standing on the other side, his own mug in hand. Taking a sip, he eyes me, examining how I look in his space. He seems to like what he sees, a small smile forming on his lips.

“I guess it’s time to fill you in on the past few years,” he says, and I nod, waiting for him to continue. Looking down into his tea, he continues, “When we met, I wasn’t ready to meet you. I knew from the first moment I saw you that you were her—the woman who I would keep forever. But like I said, I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t worthy.”

His eyes snap up to meet my gaze. The frown on my face makes him smile. “I know you didn’t care about any of that, Abby, but I did. I do. You deserve the world, and I had a long list of things I needed to accomplish before I could give it to you.

“The week after I left, I sold the last of my supply and enrolled in a high-intensity coding program. It was three months of hard work, but it paid off when I could finally create the software that Ryan and I had been modeling for years. We started Abbra Analytics a few months later, once we had a working program.

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