Page 88 of The Love Destroyers

“Don’t say things you don’t mean,” he tells me in a rough undertone. “You’ll give meideas.”

The problem is: I like his ideas. I’m still thinking about what he said in the garage. About what it would feel like to lie in the backseat while he stood in front of me, watching, and then hitched my legs up around his waist so he could—

Swallowing, I unlock the door and open it—and gasp.

Because the place has been trashed.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

SEAMUS

My first thought is,oh fuck, someone cased the place.There are bits of stuffing and torn paper all over the floor. I move Emma behind me, straining my bruised bone and sapping someideasfrom my partial hard-on. “Stay put,” I say, my voice a harsh undertone.

I’ve never known her not to talk back, but she doesn’t argue with me, thank God. I take a step inside the apartment…and then I see the ball of fluff chewing dents into the coffee table, plus the path of rabbit pellets all over the floor, among the chewed-up paper and stuffing.

Relieved laughter, followed by amused laughter, and then very quickly thereafter, pained laughter—rips out of me, and I grip the edge of the doorframe to keep upright. “Holy shit that hurts,” I say through the laughter.

“Why are youlaughing?” Emma asks in disbelief, ducking in around me.

“Look who finally decided to wake up,” I manage.

Carrot thumps his back leg against the floor and then barrels toward us with his oversized teeth bared.

“Oh shit,” I wheeze out. I’m not afraid of rabbits, but I don’t want to get bitten by one, especially if it means a third hospitalvisit. And I certainly won’t let anyone attack Emma—human or otherwise. So I back out of the apartment, pulling her with me, and slam the door on the fluffball. Half a second later, there’s an audible bang that tells me his momentum carried him against the wood.

She turns to me in disbelief. “Was thatCarrot?”

“He seemed to have the personality of one this morning. Ellie must keep him drugged to the gills so she can parade him around and dress him up in those stupid outfits from her photos.”

She swears, then rubs her forehead. “We’ll throw a towel over him so we can get him inside of his cage without getting bitten. But we can’t give him back to her if she’s keeping him drugged senseless. Could you imagine? We’ll have to bring him to a rescue group or something.”

There it is again—a touch of softness she can’t hide. Of caring for other people, even rabbits with shitty attitudes. It makes it harder to resist the pull I feel, which goes so much deeper than I’m comfortable with.

Her bottom lip is pushed out a little farther than the top, and I find myself reaching up to run my thumb over it. Her lips open in shock, and I draw back.

“Rock, paper, scissors for which of us has to throw the towel.”

Her lips open farther. “Honestly, this isn’t fun—”

“Just kidding. I'm doing it,” I say, already pulling off my jacket—the action making it feel like someone’s stabbing me through the ribs.

“Seamus,” she says, reaching for me. “You’re injured.” Worry twines around the words like a vine trying to hold me back. I’m enough of an asshole to be pleased that she’s worried about me, but not enough of one to let her have anything to do with this takedown.

“Let me take care of it, Emma,” I insist. “Let me pretend I’m a hero for once.”

Her grip slackens, freeing me, and I burst into the apartment. The rabbit is still by the door, chewing on something that will hopefully neither kill him nor destroy one of Chuck’s prize possessions. But he instantly gets onto his hind legs and starts boxing his front feet at me. It’s honestly kind of adorable—or would be if he didn’t obviously intend to claw me bloody. I throw the coat over him, catching him, and carry the squirming bundle into his cage. I crouch down and push him inside quickly enough that I’m able to close the latch. The whole time my ribs scream at me, and another headache has set in. A headache that suggests maybe it’s time for me to sleep for twelve hours.

The rabbit makes an aggrieved sound I wasn’t aware a rabbit could make—and then hisses at me.

“No shit,” I murmur as I hear the door close and then Emma’s feet softly padding toward me. When she leans over my shoulder to look at him, her hair brushes my cheek, a soft tickle of sensation.

I glance at her, finding our faces inches apart, and my body seems to forget how to breathe. I didn’t really know how lucky I was, when I casually kissed her on the first minute of the New Year. I knew I wanted to do it, sure. As far as I’m concerned, it would be impossible for a person to spend five minutes with this alluring, confusing, difficult woman without wanting to put their mouth on her. But I didn’t realize how special the moment was until it was already in the past—until she was shutting a door on me and telling me what I already knew. That to do anything else would be a horrible mistake.

I want to make a horrible mistake.

Emma moves, more’s the pity, and retrieves some vegetables from the refrigerator, which she takes over to Chuck’s chicken-shaped chopping board.

Why is it shaped like a chicken?

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