Page 54 of Absinthe Dreams
"Get the fuck off my property before the police come to pick up what's left of you, Donny," Colton tells him. "You won't ever see my daughter again. And if you do, she will be the last thing you see, I promise you that, you sorry son of a bitch."
"Just give me back my company," he pleads.
"No," Chloe says from somewhere behind me, her voice clear and firm. "You don't get to use it to do the same thing to some other girl, Donny. You don't deserve a company. You don't deserve Madeline. You deserve to be treated exactly like the predator you are. You think I would ever agree to be with someone like you? You disgust me."
He turns his head, trying to see her. But that shit isn't happening. Colton keeps her safely tucked behind him, where Donny can't even set eyes on her.
"It's your fault!" he shouts.
Hell no. Absolutely not.
I snap my fist back, hitting him squarely in the jaw. His head smacks against the house with a thud before he goes slack in my arms. I release his tie, letting him fall to the cement at my feet.
"That's for blaming her," I mutter, shaking out my hand as I step over him. My gaze goes to Colton. "Let the police haul him out of here. Surely there's enough evidence to press charges at this point."
"Oh, hell, yes," Colton growls, a look of disgust on his face as he glances down at his former friend. "And I'll make damn sure they stick."
"Good." I step around him, eager to get to Chloe, to make sure she's okay.
She's standing behind him with her head held high, her eyes dry. But I can tell by the look on her face that she's rattled that he showed up here within hours of us getting back to town. She's too goddamn smart not to know that means he's been watching for her to return.
"Come on, Coco," I murmur, slipping an arm around her waist. "Let's take a minute, alright?"
She bobs her head in a silent nod, allowing me to pull her away. We head straight for the stairs, not stopping until we're in her childhood bedroom. Even though she moved out years ago, there are still traces of her everywhere, from the stuffed animals lining a shelf to the trophies and books scattered across her bookcase. There are photos of us everywhere, a thousand memories frozen in time.
"Come here," I murmur, pulling her into my arms as soon as the door closes behind us. She burrows into me with a soft sigh, trembling slightly. "It's okay, princess."
"I know," she whispers. "I guess…I don't know. I guess I just thought it was over already. I didn't expect him to show up here."
"It won't happen again." I tip her head back, forcing her to look at me. "We're packing up your apartment tomorrow, and you're coming home with me, where you belong. By the time they let his sorry ass out of jail, you'll be out of here."
"I don't want to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder."
"You think I'd let you?" I question, brushing my lips across hers. "That'll never happen, baby. He came here tonight because he's desperate. Jail will snap him back into reality."
If it doesn't, her dad will. Or I will. Or some other motherfucker who knows what he's like will. At the end of the day, it doesn't really matter who gives him a reality check. What matters is the woman in my arms. And hell will freeze over before he gets anywhere near her or forces her to spend a lifetime looking over her shoulder.
His place in her life ended when he crossed the line. I just reinforced the boundary on the porch. When he comes to, it'll be in handcuffs. She'll be free, and he'll always be the prick who thought he could take what didn't belong to him.
And she has a whole army ready to stand in front of her if needed. I doubt it will be, though. Men like Donny don't fare well in jail. What lessons they couldn't learn outside get beaten into them inside.
"Kiss me," she whispers.
I groan softly, slanting my lips down on hers. It's meant to be a reassuring kiss, one to ground her in reality. But nothing is ever that simple with Chloe. As soon as my lips touch hers, we're burning up again, as desperate as ever.
"Please," she begs, slipping her hand between our bodies to fumble with my zipper. "Please, Trystan."
I know I should tell her no. We're in her childhood room in her parents' house. My parents are downstairs with them. The cops are on the way. Her prick of an ex-boss is knocked out on the porch. There are a thousand reasons I should tell her no.
But there's only one reason I say yes.
Because she needs me.
I walk her back toward the bed, my hand already under her skirt, already tugging her panties to the side. She falls backward with a moan, sprawled across the purple comforter like a pretty little sacrifice.
I fall to my knees at her feet, lifting one leg over my shoulder. Her wide eyes are locked on mine, her chest rising and falling with every rapid, eager breath.
I touch the tip of my tongue to her clit, earning a soft moan.
