Page 90 of Arranged Addiction
I lean forward and brush my lips to his.
“You did right,” I whisper, running my fingers into his hair. “You did so right.” And I kiss him hard, tongue mashing into his mouth. He returns the kiss with enthusiasm, and we stay like that on the bathroom floor making out, the tension in my body flowing out like water, right up until I bang my head on the sink.
“Ow, fuck,” I groan, rubbing my skull and laughing. “Shit, that hurts.”
He helps me up. “How about we get some ice?”
“No, I’m fine. How about you just take me home instead?”
“I can do that.” He kisses me gently again. “Does this mean you’ve forgiven me?”
“No, not yet. I’m getting there though.”
“The thing with me is when I’m yours, I’m all yours. I can wait as long as you need until you come around.”
“If you keep it up, you won’t have to wait long.”
“Then I’m doing something right.”
“For once.” I squeeze his hand. “Come on, let’s get out of here.” I tug him to the hall, but he pauses and checks his phone. The screen’s lit up, and he’s frowning at it.
“Seamus?” His whole body goes tense. His grip on my hand is borderline painful. “Where is she? How bad? How many? We’re on the way.”
He hangs up. I’m on high alert. Alarm bells scream in my head. He looks at me with pure concern and worry, and I already know it before he says anything.
“Your aunt,” he whispers, pulling me toward the doors. “There’s been a fire.”
Chapter 30
Casey
Declan tries to drop me off back at the house first, but I tell him that if he so much as tries it, I’ll cut his fucking balls off. “I have to make sure Sheila’s okay.”
He’s not happy about it, but he drives fast and doesn’t argue.
I’m a knot of worry. This can’t be happening. Declan tells me what he knows, which isn’t much. His brother got word from Sheila’s guards that a fire broke out, but nobody knows if she’s alive or dead. Apparently, the blaze is pretty bad.
We hear the fire sirens and see the smoke from a few blocks off. Traffic tightens, and Declan has to slow down. He curses and swerves, hopping the curb at one point to get around a double-parked SUV before swinging into an open spot.
“Time to run,” he says, killing the engine.
We sprint down the sidewalk. It’s not easy in my work clothes, but I keep up the best I can. My heart’s hammering, and god, I wish I worked out more, but I can’t stop. Sheila might need me. I have to get there for her, even if I’m just going to be useless, dead weight. We turn the corner onto my block, and Declan slows toa trot as the number of pedestrians and onlookers clogs all the available space.
“There’s already a fire engine here,” I say, pointing at where the red truck’s parked across from my old house.
Black smoke rolls into the air. Flames scream from the upper windows. The heat is terrible, even at a distance, and I can barely understand what I’m seeing.
It makes no sense.
This was my home. This place was my entire life up until recently. Sheila took me in here… she raised me here… all my important milestones happened under that roof.
Now it’s turning to ash.
Tears streak down my face. I stop dead in the middle of the street and stare, sobbing, chest heaving with pain. Someone’s yelling at me, but I can barely hear. Eventually, I feel Declan wrap his arms around me and pull me away from the fire cordon and onto the opposite sidewalk. Men in heavy flameproof suits blast all the nearby buildings with water in a desperate attempt to keep the blaze from spreading.
“Baby, listen to me. It’s going to be okay. My people are here.”
I force myself to focus on Declan’s face. He’s all blurry from the tears. I wipe my eyes, but that barely helps. “Where’s Sheila?”
