It takes me only a minute to catch up to her despite the sleep-induced stiffness in my legs. When I do, I grab her by the shoulder and whirl her around.
“Where do you think you’re going?” I ask.
“I’m going home,” she snaps instantly. “You can go wherever the hell you want.”
“You’re actually going back to a man you don’t love, to continue a marriage you don’t want to be a part of?” I ask, more curious than angry at this moment.
“I don’t have to explain myself to you.”
“You kinda do, if you expect me to let you go off by yourself.”
She takes a step right up into my face. The fire in her eyes is back.
And just like that, my cock’s hard again.
“Let me?” she repeats furiously. “Let me?”
“Saoirse—”
“I am not yours to keep,” she hisses. “I am not yours to control. I am not yours to order around. For fuck’s sake, why do men think that’s their God-given right?”
I reach out to calm her. But she swats my hands away as though she’s afraid of catching on fire.
“No,” she spits at me. “You don’t have to save me, Cillian. Whatever notions you have about me being a damsel in distress, get rid of them now, because I don’t need a knight in shining armor.”
“Good. I prefer Brioni suits.”
She rolls her eyes. “Excuse me. I forgot this is all a big fucking joke to you.”
“Things can be serious and funny at the same time,” I point out. “In fact, that’s pretty much the only way they can be.”
“Screw you. Find something funny in that.”
I have to try really hard to keep my smile from breaking through the surface. It’s kind of perverse how much I love fighting with her.
I realize that it’s been years—over a decade—since I’ve had this kind of volatile back and forth.
Since I’ve cared enough to have it.
The women I’d been with in Los Angeles had fallen into my bed the moment I’d looked their way. Their panties were off when I smiled. The rest of it was fucking child’s play.
But Saoirse…
She’s the only woman I’ve come across who puts up a fight.
Hell, she’s the kind of woman who’ll put up a fight even with her legs spread wide.
I shake that thought out of my head. Mostly because I really don’t want to get any harder than I already am.
She ignores the car when she reaches it and just starts walking up the road with a determined hitch in her step. I frown, following behind her at a relaxed pace.
“Where exactly are you going?”
“I’m gonna keep walking until someone drives by,” she snaps.
“Sounds an awful lot like hitchhiking.”
“That’s the plan, genius.”