the memory of how he'd taken Liz sickened Carolina.
The blood-flare in her cheeks showed Dylan her level of emotion and he gauged the intensity to be murderously livid. Earlier he'd seen similar patches of crushed-strawberry-red tinting her cheekbones, had heard the raw, vulgar language flying from her usually sweet mouth and he'd wanted to take her fast and hard, had told her to be quiet because he couldn't trust himself not to drag her to the floor and mount her in front of the room's occupants. Clearing his head he asked, “You wish you'd what?”
“Never mind.” Carolina gave him a hard look, “Did you take my keys?”
Dylan ignored her question. “What can I say that will make you stay?”
“Zip.” She didn't need the keys. Patrick had taught her how to hot-wire a car.
“What if I say I'm sorry?” And he was, bone-deep remorseful, for all he'd done.
In frustration, Carolina forcefully threw her purse at him because the keys to her house were also missing and he'd the nerve to be sitting there as if he hadn't done anything. “Save your breath. Better yet, call Liz. Maybe she wants to hear whatever you have to say or perhaps she'll come over so you can screw her again. Weren't you pining for her last night? “For The Good Times”, wasn't that the song?”
He'd caught the purse she'd flung at him and set it aside, feeling the heat of shame coloring his neck, “What happened with Liz was a stupid mistake. It's you I love.”
Then God deliver me from love and you.” Taking her cell phone from her pocket, she dialed Callum's phone number and getting no answer, she dialed Calder's. When there was also no answer she cutoff the call and shoved the phone back in her pocket. “I want my keys Dylan and you know what, if those twins give me a hard time about leaving I'm going to drag them out of here kicking and screaming.”
His mind raced, if only his brain hadn't been so booze addled earlier he would
The blood-flare in her cheeks showed Dylan her level of emotion and he gauged the intensity to be murderously livid. Earlier he'd seen similar patches of crushed-strawberry-red tinting her cheekbones, had heard the raw, vulgar language flying from her usually sweet mouth and he'd wanted to take her fast and hard, had told her to be quiet because he couldn't trust himself not to drag her to the floor and mount her in front of the room's occupants. Clearing his head he asked, “You wish you'd what?”
“Never mind.” Carolina gave him a hard look, “Did you take my keys?”
Dylan ignored her question. “What can I say that will make you stay?”
“Zip.” She didn't need the keys. Patrick had taught her how to hot-wire a car.
“What if I say I'm sorry?” And he was, bone-deep remorseful, for all he'd done.
In frustration, Carolina forcefully threw her purse at him because the keys to her house were also missing and he'd the nerve to be sitting there as if he hadn't done anything. “Save your breath. Better yet, call Liz. Maybe she wants to hear whatever you have to say or perhaps she'll come over so you can screw her again. Weren't you pining for her last night? “For The Good Times”, wasn't that the song?”
He'd caught the purse she'd flung at him and set it aside, feeling the heat of shame coloring his neck, “What happened with Liz was a stupid mistake. It's you I love.”
Then God deliver me from love and you.” Taking her cell phone from her pocket, she dialed Callum's phone number and getting no answer, she dialed Calder's. When there was also no answer she cutoff the call and shoved the phone back in her pocket. “I want my keys Dylan and you know what, if those twins give me a hard time about leaving I'm going to drag them out of here kicking and screaming.”
His mind raced, if only his brain hadn't been so booze addled earlier he would