Page 161 of Hate to Love You
“Roman…” The way she whispers my name, and the feeling of her climax squeezing my cock pushes me over the brink and I empty myself inside of the sexiest woman I have ever known.
…And the only woman I’ve ever fucked twice.
My promise to fuck Abby into a coma sort of came to fruition as she passed out shortly after we fucked.
However, between the two of us, the outfit she wore to work is completely destroyed. And given that the fall temperatures in New York were getting colder every day, I texted Cal, and asked him to pick up a new outfit for Abby.
Something with pants.
But as I lay here, with her naked and asleep next to me, I can do nothing but admire how beautiful she is. Her long brown hair lays messily around her face, her eyelids twitching as she subconsciously snuggles closer to me.
Who is she? And why does she have this hold on me?
Abigail Wayne makes no sense to me.
The woman I’d seen all those years ago, on the arm of her fuckhead of a husband, had seemed so quiet, so demure and almost shy. She almost looked as if she wanted to disappear into thin air.
And yet, the woman who lays in bed next to me now is far from the shadows of that creature. She is feisty, and sassy, and witty…and possessive. Scarily possessive.
Why does that part turn me on so much?
Ana found nothing out of the ordinary about Abby.
According to her, Abby was as pure as the driven snow, at least as far as a criminal rap sheet was concerned, and she had no affiliations to the Irish, or even the Feds. She was just an ordinary girl, living an ordinary life in Forest Hills, in a house she was gifted after husband’s untimely death.
But Abby isn’t ordinary.
When she walks into a room, she eclipses all other women, without question. I’ve never wanted someone like this before, as if deep down some fragmented part of my soul is convinced that only she can calm the rage within me.
…Or make it worse.
And for some reason, that only makes me want her more.
Cal arrived with fresh clothes for Abby a few hours later.
However, any high I felt from the blissful few hours we’d spent together naked, evaporated the moment he called Trevor to take Abby home, ominously requesting to speak with me…in private.
“This can’t be good,” I sigh heavily, my chest suddenly feeling tighter than it was just a few minutes prior.
“It’s not,” he says quietly, setting the laptop down on my marble kitchen island. “And I didn’t want to bring it to your attention until I had something to back it up. But I think I’ve finally got a lead on who killed Igor, Jacques and Boris.”
“Really?” I say, blinking. “That sounds like good news to me!”
But my stomach twists the moment I see the look on Cal’s face, and I know that I really am not going to like whatever he says next.
However, instead of saying anything, he turns the laptop to face me, and presses play.
“This is Jacques at Roast,” he says quietly, as I watch him walking in and out of the coffee shop.
“Am I supposed to give a shit that he’s getting coffee?” I say sarcastically.
Cal presses fast forward, and that’s when I see her.
Abby walks into frame next to him, but because another patron of the cafe walks in behind them, I can’t see exactly what interaction happens at the counter.
“So, he was there the same time she was,” I snap irritably. “Why does that make her a suspect exactly?”
“It doesn’t,” Cal replies matter-of-factly. “But this does.”