Page 89 of Lines

When people see me striding their way, they part to make space for me to pass through. Anger and fury have been boiling inside of me for long enough, and this guy just crossed the damn line.

No one puts hands on my girl.

No one.

I come behind them. My hands land on cowboy’s shoulder and with one strong tug I have him facing me.

The guy, whoever he is, isn’t from Greyford, but that doesn’t give him any excuse.

I stare him down through narrowed eyes. “Move your dirty hands off my girl.” My voice is a low growl. I'm barely holding onto my control, the urge to punch something, preferably him, is so strong I can feel an itch in my clenched fists.

“What the hell…”

“Do as he said.” Sanders comes and moves in between us. “You don’t want his fist to connect with your pretty face, now do you, cowboy?”

Turning around, I forget about the two of them and concentrate on Amelia who’s looking at me with a mix of shock and fury. “What do you think you—”

“We are getting out of here,” I interrupt her. My fingers curl around her wrists and I pull her closer to me. “You don’t want everybody to stare at us when we have our talk, do you?”

“We don’t have anything to talk about.”

Her words are little slurred, but her brown eyes still have sharpness in them that awakens every time she’s really pissed.

Seeing her get all worked up makes one corner of my mouth lift in amusement. She’s so close to me that her chest is touching mine, and I bend down to whisper in her ear, “Try again, little one.”

My hushed words make her shiver, and I can feel every slow tremble.

Enjoying her discomfort and reaction to me, I continue talking to her ear. “So what will it be? Here, so that everybody can watch and hear what I have to say, or do you want to go someplace just with the two of us?”

“I hate you, Derek King.”

It should hurt me hearing those words, but it only makes me chuckle more. She can say whatever she wants to, but I can see the truth in her eyes.

“So you like to say.”

I hate you...Those words sound exactly the same as they did years ago when she uttered them for the first time.

“I really do.” Amelia looks me in the eyes. After a few fast blinks brown eyes focus on me. “I hate you.”

How messed up you’d think I am if I said those words excite me? Because they do. Every time she says those three words I feel my blood run just a tad faster. Excitement tingles in my bones, and I want to show her how wrong she is.

I touch her forehead with mine. Our noses are brushing against each other. With eyes wide open I let myself fall into those brown depths. “I hate you too.”

“Then why are you doing this?” Her hot breath is touching my lips, tickling me softly.

My hands cup her cheeks, holding her still. “Because the line between love and hate is thin,” I murmur softly. “So-fucking-thin. And I love you more then I hate you.”

Her sharp intake of breath rings in my ears.

I give her a second, maybe two, to process my words before I kiss her.

The kiss is slow and deep. I want to breathe her in. To fill every empty hole she left in me that day she saw me and Sophie and then left without giving me a chance to explain.

My tongue caresses hers while my hands get lost in her soft curls. The stupid witch hat falls off her head, but neither of us does anything to stop it.

Amelia moans softly in my mouth, the sweet sound at the back of her throat asking me to take more. Her hands come around me, delicate fingers curling around the hem of my shirt, crumpling it in her fists.

Changing the angle of our kiss, I get in deeper. Her mouth is hot and wet, and she’s as desperate as I am.

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