Page 37 of Wed to the Devil
“Yes!” Dare hisses.
“I see.” I pat the spot next to me on the couch. “Come sit here with me.”
He looks at me, narrowing his eyes. But when I don’t add anything else to my statement, he does head over to me, his big frame taking up most of the remaining space. He spreads out, his expression a little tart.
“Happy?”
I touch his knee, looking into his eyes. “Yes.”
Dare’s brow knits. There is momentary confusion in his blue eyes. He seems to be expecting me to add more, to say something else.
When I don’t, he sits back, his shoulders dropping a fraction.
I squeeze his knee. “You know, for someone that talks a big game about marriage lasting forever, you don't seem particularly comfortable with me. How can we ever be an old married couple if we aren't comfortable with each other?”
Dare pushes his cheek out with his tongue. “Do you think that is our biggest concern right now?”
I shrug. It's not small enough to be unnoticeable, either. “It's something worth thinking about.”
He represses a sigh and wraps his arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer. I'm ready for an invasion, for him to kiss my lips and distract me. But to my surprise, Dare merely places a kiss on my head and attempts to sit silently with me. My breath hitches but I force my body to relax, folding my head against his chest. My position feels awkward but I'm not about to protest. After all, Dare is merely trying to comply with my demands.
I close my eyes for a few moments and inhale deeply, appreciating his masculine scents in my nose. Dare is a radiator, heat pouring off his body. I move infinitesimally closer to his body, letting my body warm up, soaking the warmth into my bones. He sighs again, his hand cupping my shoulder, his fingers tracing figure eights into the skin of my upper arm.
I remind myself that this is the stillness that I have been demanding for so long. I should just be able to enjoy it.
A muffled shout outside the window makes me seize up. Dare moves me off his lap, standing up with a tense look on his face.
“What is that?” he mutters.
He moves over to the window and pushes aside the tattered lace curtain, looking out. Unable to help myself, I scramble to my feet and join him.
My eyes immediately land on a woman’s curvy frame and thinning black hair. My immediate instinct is that this woman needs help.
Peering out the window, I see her standing about ten feet away, sandwiched between two larger figures. Two men, one in a faded red track suit and one in a dark green hoodie and jeans. They each have one of the woman’s arms and are shouting at each other as they yank on her. She wears a thin wool duster over a skintight black dress and shivers against the icy air as she looks back and forth from one man to the other. Her eyes are wide and her fear is palpable.
“She’s coming with me,” one of the men bellows. “I’m telling you, she’s my girl.”
“I’ll kill you both first,” the other man growls back. He rips her away, the force of his yank making the woman stumble.
My heart beats fast. I head to the basement door, thinking only that the woman must be saved.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Dare hisses. “Don’t you dare open that door.”
His words give me pause. I stop, looking back at him with alarm.
“I have to save her, Dare.”
Our argument draws the attention of the trio of people.
“The fuck, man,” one of them says. “I don’t need this.”
He lopes off, leaving the other man to drag the woman away, muttering as he goes. I run back to the window and watch as they go, flattening my palm against the glass.
“I can’t believe you didn’t let me help her. She clearly needed it.”
Dare grits his teeth. “You are four months pregnant, Talia. There is no way in hell that I was letting you walk into a situation like that. Someone could have pulled a knife or a gun. You could’ve been really hurt… or worse.”
My face feels hot. I pull away from the window, crossing my arms and feeling quite petulant.