Page 39 of Hateful Union

God, I wish that were true.

The front door closes and Gabby reaches for my hand then gives me a reassuring squeeze before moving away.

“Baby,” Malcolm whispers as he comes to stand behind me. The heat of his body pressing into mine. “Talk to me,” he pleads softly.

I sigh, “Let’s get a drink and we’ll go out to the deck and talk.” I’m pleased that I’m able to keep my voice even.

“Sounds good,” he replies, his lips at my ear. “Do you have whiskey or beer?”

I shake my head, “Nope, sorry, this is a girls house, we don’t do whiskey or beer. It’s wine, vodka, or tequila.”

“Fuck,” he grouses as his arms tighten around me.

I spin around and face him. My heart stutters as I drink him in. God, he’s so beautiful. He’s spent time in the sun recently, his skin darker than usual. Sun-kissed and golden. Those gorgeous, green eyes of his sear me, it’s as though I’m looking into a deep forest when I stare into them, but they’re all knowing, he sees deeper than anyone I have ever known. I’m in way over my head with him. I just don’t trust him and that kills me, especially when I want him so much.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve drank that shit,” he groans, running his hand down my back towards my arse.

“No one asked you to drink them, and no one asked you to be here.” I can’t help but snap at him, he’s unsettling me and I hate that I’m so out of sorts when I’m around him.

His eyes soften as he looks down at me, “Raylee.” His words wash over me and against my better judgement I sink into his embrace. “We need to talk and honestly,mo stór, you’re bitchiness makes me hard. It’s not a deterrent at all.”

I roll my eyes, such a typical man, always thinking about his dick.

“Wine, vodka, or tequila?” I question with a raised brow.

“What are you drinking?” he fires back with a gentle smile on his face.

Fuck. That smile, it hits me in the gut. Butterflies swarm as he continues to run his hands over my body.

“Wine.”

He nods in approval, “I’ll have the same, please.”

God, he needs to stop with the sweetness.

“What are you doing?” I demand, needing to know what his game is.

His brows furrow, “Raylee—” Fuck, why is it whenever he whispers my name like that it makes me want to kiss him? “I told you, baby, I’m here because I’ve realised what I want, what I can no longer deny. That's you.”

I stare at him baffled. “But, why?” I sound just as confused as I feel.

“Drinks,mo stór, and then we’ll talk,” he promises me.

I nod, take a deep breath, and pull out of his arms. As soon as his arms release me I feel bereft. Damn it, he’s got me tied up in knots.

I move to the fridge and reach for the wine and then two glasses. “Gabs,” I yell, even though I know she’s been listening.

“Yeah?” she shouts back and I resist the urge to roll my eyes. She doesn’t even hide the fact she was eavesdropping.

“I’m hitting the back deck, taking the wine, we’ll order pizza in a bit. You need anything?” I hand the wine to Malcolm as I move past him to the table that’s at the end of the kitchen and grab my sweater.

The Spanish heat is different to what it’s like in Manchester. The days can be sweltering, then once night starts to fall, the wind can go through you. But, Spain has always held a special place in my heart. Or it did, until recently.

“Ready?” I ask turning back to face Malcolm, my tone not unfriendly, but a little harder than I’d hoped.

The corners of his mouth turn up, “Yeah, baby.” He walks towards me and slides his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his body.

“Let’s get this over with,” I say with little heat. It’s not something I’m looking forward to, but it has to be done. Malcolm seems hell bent on being in my life and before I make any decision, I have to know some things first.