Page 65 of Erik's Salvation
He shoved Marco against the wall, hard, then left the room. He had to fight his internal animal the entire drive home, convincing himself to not turn around and finish what he’d started.
He’d only known about Andi’s little coffee date because of Chandler’s guy. It hadn’t been hard for Chandler to get Marco’s room number at the hotel, but he’d only given it up after Erik had promised not to kill the guy.
A promise he’d almost broken.
Andi had received a fucking earful from him on the way to the hotel. He hadn’t answered her questions about how he’d known where she was, who she was with, or why she should do as he said, but he knew she’d heard the danger in his voice. How serious he was.
He was almost home when a text came through on his phone.
Hannah: Hey! You almost ready to go?
It took three seconds for realization to hit him. Shit. The drinks at her office—that was tonight. With everything that had happened with Marco, he’d almost forgotten.
Erik: Sorry. Running late. Will be home in a couple minutes, then we can go.
He wasn’t going to admit that he’d forgotten. It was bad enough he’d spent the week trying to digest what was going on between them while barely seeing her.
He was just pulling up in front of her house when Hannah stepped outside the door. She wore tight jeans that hugged every damn inch of her, from ass to ankles. And the red heels she’d paired them with…
His dick twitched as he climbed out of the car. She held a large bowl in her arms and had just turned when he stopped in front of her.
Her lips curved up into a smile. “Hey.”
He slid a hand around her waist. “Hey, Angel.”
Unable to stop himself, he leaned down and kissed her. It was everything he hadn’t realized he needed. The peace that had eluded him for hours. The quiet to the loud fucking shouts in his head.
When he came up for air, her eyes were half-hooded, and it took every ounce of self-restraint to not pull her back into the house and take her.
He forced his voice to work. “You ready to go?”
“I am. You?”
No. He needed more of those damn kisses. “Yes.”
“Great. Your car or mine?”
He didn’t even look at her beat-up Honda. “Mine.” He slipped his hand into hers and led her toward his Corvette.
She laughed. “Hey, your mechanic fixed Hondi up well. She’s good to go. Something I still haven’t paid for, by the way.”
And she wouldn’t. Just like he didn’t expect anything in return for fixing her pipes. He wanted to take care of this woman.
He opened the passenger-side door. “Hondi?”
“Has a good ring to it, doesn’t it?”
He shook his head as he moved around the car and slid behind the wheel. As he pulled out of her drive, he eyed the salad. “Did you make that?”
“Well, I certainly didn’t let Brigid anywhere near it. That woman can massacre a fried egg.”
His brows flickered. “So you knew the muffins tasted like shit?”
“Oh my gosh, they were terrible. I can’t believe you swallowed that mouthful.”
He laughed. A full laugh right from his gut. It felt good. Foreign, but good.
Hannah kept him entertained the entire drive to the office, including telling him a story about Henry forcing her and Brigid to sit in a bar out of town for three hours just so he could get a glimpse of a guy he liked. Her stories almost made him forget about Marco…almost.
