Page List


Font:  

“I know!” he shouted. His raised voice echoed through the quiet house. I winced, hoping Gwen didn’t wake.

He stepped into my space and I held my breath. “I fucked up. When I was over there I knew it. The second I left the airport I knew it. I thought I was doing it for your own good.” He caressed my cheek.

I flinched away from his touch. “Oh yes. Chivalrous freaking martyr Ian. He knows what’s best for me because sweet delicate Amy couldn’t possibly have a brain between her ears. Don’t patronize me. I’m not some little flower that needs protecting.”

“I know that.” Ian kept his voice even, controlled.

It pissed me off. It was always like this. We never had arguments. He didn’t react. Didn’t fly off the handle. I would yell and scream and he would just stand there stoically with his iron clad control. That was it. The control. With Brock there was no control. It was pure, unbridled passion. He didn’t worry about hurting my feelings. He threw the anger right back, not caring whether I could handle it or not.

“What are you expecting from me, Ian?” I asked. My anger hadn’t lessened but I needed to know. I was tired. Tired of the pain I had been carrying in my heart. Exhausted from the weight of keeping this from my best friend. I wanted this finished.

“Everything,” he said quietly. “I want everything we had. I want you. I want to make love to you like the world is going to end. I want to feel you break apart in my arms. I want to have you. I want to go to sleep in whatever shithole I’m in knowing I’ve got you waiting for me at home.” He stepped forward again, his eyes intense, but I retreated.

They were the words I had been dying to hear. When my love for this man had torn away all my dignity and I had begged him to give us a chance, all I wanted to hear was this. But now…I didn’t know what I wanted. A part of me wanted to jump into his arms and be engulfed in the comfort and strength of his love.

“What am I supposed to say to that?” I hissed. “You are a year too late, Ian. Did you think you could shatter my heart, then expect me to be cradling the pieces waiting for you to put them back together once you finally decided you wanted a woman waiting for you on the other side of this war? Fuck you.” I shot a venomous gaze at him, downing my drink and storming off.

The next morning I awoke early. I felt like shit. I had shut my eyes for about two minutes but my mind hadn’t been able to turn off. All of Ian’s words last night whizzed around my brain like an annoying mosquito in the night. He wanted me. He wanted us. It’s a shame he had to stomp all over me in order to come to that conclusion.

I had been up since six a.m. consuming copious amounts of coffee and distracting myself with online shopping. Nothing cured heartache like a new handbag. Or five. Gwen had ventured off to get more precious java since I had emptied the house of our supply.

“Morning, beautiful,” a rough accent greeted me.

I whipped my head up from my iPad. Ian stood in the doorway, shirtless and looking rumpled and seriously sexy.

His body was cut. He looked like he had rubbed oil on his six pack to make it glisten. It felt weird seeing a body free from tattoos; I had become accustomed to it. It didn’t make me any less turned on as I drank him in, remembering that body pressed against mine.

Ian’s body had momentarily distracted my caffeinated mind and I remembered I was annoyed with him. I jumped off the barstool, glaring at him.

“There’s food in the refrigerator—help yourself. Gwen’s gone to get coffee. She should be back soon.” I informed him, walking toward the living room. I couldn’t be in the same room as him when he was half naked; I was afraid of what I might do. Or what my hormones might do.

“Wait, Amy.”

I ignored this and kept walking. A strong hand grasped my arm, stopping me.

“What,” I started to say, but the arm whirled me around and yanked my body to a hard one. Ian’s mouth was on mine and I struggled at first, but I quickly melted into the embrace. My willpower shattered at his familiar touch, at the intensity simmering between us.

The kiss was wild and tender at the same time. His hand delved into my hair, the other gripping my ass. I let his tongue explore mine, savoring the slow burn that ignited with his touch. I shouldn’t be doing this. I was sure there was a multitude of reasons why I shouldn’t. I will stop it. In a second.

“Oh my god, my eyes!” A dramatic screech made me yank myself away.

Gwen’s horrified and disbelieving face darted between the both of us before she slammed the front door shut again. I didn’t miss the look of disappointment she shot at me before the door slammed.

“Fuck,” Ian muttered.

I ignored him and ran outside to try and repair the damage that kiss had done. This was not how I wanted Gwen to find this out. Ideally, I would have rasped it out to her on my deathbed so I wouldn’t have to face her wrath. That plan was foiled.

Gwen was pacing the lawn when I emerged.

“Gwen, stop—listen to me. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. It’s just—” I ran toward my friend, hoping the perfect explanation would pop out of my mouth but Gwen cut me off, her face wild.

“It’s just what, Abrams? You’ve been screwing my brother and lying to me about it?” Her yell was accentuated by a hard shove to my chest. I stumbled back, shocked at the fact she was getting physical. She didn’t stop her rant. “We never lie to each other. Ever. Jesus, how could you not tell me?” she yelled in my face.


Tags: Anne Malcom Sons of Templar MC Erotic