Page 134 of Lethal Abduction

Pulling back, I stare down at her swollen mouth, the peaks of her breasts, her dark eyes locked onto mine.

“I love you, Abby,” I say roughly. “Fuck, I love you.”

I gather her close and surge into her, feeling it come from the base of my fucking spine like a runaway train, the sensationtoo intense to think of stopping. Abby clenches around me fiercely as her climax hits, her hands clutching at my back, the intense richness erasing everything but this moment of sheer sensation.

I thrust home deep, roaring at the mind-bending torrent of release, holding on to that sublime, ecstatic escape until the very last of the tremors fade from us both.

“I need to get moving.”I rub a hand across my face and pull Abby closer, closing my eyes as I inhale the soft scent of her shampoo, feel the delicious length of her against me. “This is night three since we took you from that hotel. Everyone knows you’re missing by now. If we’re going in, it needs to be tonight or tomorrow—and even then, we might be too late.”

Abby shifts against me, her lips pressed to my neck. “You need to eat something first.”

I quirk my eyebrows down at her, and she rolls her eyes, though she’s smiling.

“You already did that.” She punches my shoulder lightly. “For someone who’s supposedly exhausted, you put on a pretty good show, muscle boy.”

“Oh, believe me, Skip, I’m just getting started.” I take a pretend bite out of her breast, and she giggles, pushing me away.

I’m not joking. Despite a very long and satisfying afternoon siesta, of which the shower was just the prelude, I’m still half hard and more than a little tempted to get food sent to the room and then eat it off Abby’s body, piece by piece.

I’m also extremely conscious of the fuckers I need to kill, and the fact that time is already running short.

Despite the overwhelming odds, I feel remarkably relaxed. Exhilarated, even. Roman’s absence might feel like I’m missinga fucking limb, but it’s not going to stop me from getting this done.

Having Abby back at my side, and underneath my body, has set me more alight than a drug ever could. I feel like I could storm a fucking castle single-handed.

Which is good, because that’s pretty much what I’m planning to do.

“Dimitry.” Abby traces a finger over my chest. Her eyes are turned away from me, but the wary tone in her voice is enough to set off alarm bells.

“Hm?” I stroke her hair, hoping to hell it’s not more bad news.

“I spoke to Darya.”

My hand stills.

Night has fallen. Through the open glass doors floats the whirr of cicadas and the scent of incense from a nearby prayer offering. It’s so peaceful it’s hard to believe that death is stalking us—or that Abby might have done something that could bring that darkness to the people we both care about the most.

Equally, I don’t want to fuck this up.

I clear my throat. “Why?” My voice is remarkably calm, given how pissed off I am.

“She called me. Or rather, Zinaida did.” Briefly she explains the background to the call, and I slowly relax, then become increasingly curious.

What did she say about Roman?

I’m desperate to ask, but I also don’t want to know. I walked away, and I have to live with that choice.

And besides, the fucker isn’t here, is he? It’s not like he’s picked up a phone, even though Darya’s no doubt told him by now that she spoke to Abby.

Of course he hasn’t.

That’s not Roman Stevanovsky’s style. Apologies are likegetting blood out of a stone on a good day. But after I’ve basically told him we’re done?

Yeah—the only way that gets fixed is by me crawling back.

And there’s no fucking way that’s happening. Definitely not to ask for his help.

“Darya said he misses you,” Abby says softly. Her head is still lying on my chest. I realize that my hand twined in her hair is gripping just a little too hard, my heartbeat thudding just a little too fast, for the lazy situation we’re in.

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