Page 112 of The Twins

I backed up until my shoulders hit the wall.

“You belong at my side, woman, you’re mine, or had that little detail slipped from your mind?”

His dark gaze was intense and fiery and his movements stiff and deliberate. He loomed over me.

“You fucked up, Andrew,” I said, glaring up at him. “You fucked up big time by making out my mother was a criminal and…and…”

“I know.” His mouth twisted. “I’m sorry, I was only acting on the information available.”

“But this is about my mother!” I shouted. “My dead mother who I love with all my heart.’

“And I loveyouwith all heart.”

I shook my head. “Go. Go. I don’t want you here. The thought that you might have killed her, took her out as one of your hits, a target on your kill wall…” I paused as a sob caught in my throat. “Makes me sick to the stomach.”

“And it does me, too.” He came close; so close his body heat radiated onto my chest.

“No! Get away from me. I can’t be with you right now.” I put my hands on his shoulders and shoved.

But he went nowhere. Instead, he clasped my wrists and drew both of my arms upward, stretching my torso and clamping me to the wall.

I gasped and bucked against him, my traitorous body getting a thrill out of his closeness. “Get off me, Andrew, I mean it.”

“No you don’t.”

“I do.” I wriggled with all my strength but to no avail. He was bigger and stronger and had me in his grip. “Get off me, leave.”

And then his mouth hit down on mine; a hot, ravenous kiss that dominated and owned me to my core.

I groaned and took what he gave, my belly clenching and my skin prickling for more connection.

After a moment, I tore my mouth from his. This was not what I wanted. Was it? “What are you doing?” I was panting and shaking in his grip.

“Fixing this fucking problem.”

“You can’t, you can’t fix what you’ve done.”

“I haven’t actually done anything.” He raised his left eyebrow. “Other than follow leads.”

I pursed my lips, taking in his dark flavor that lingered there. I knew it so well. I knew him so well.

“And you know it.” He’d spoken onto my cheek. “So stop fighting this.”

“You’re an asshole,” I said, my voice shaky. “A self-righteous asshole who thinks he can fix the world. Well, you can’t, Andrew, you can’t.”

He stared me in the eyes. “You really shouldn’t have said that.”

“What, that you’re an asshole or you can’t fix the world?” I glared at him. I’d hit a nerve.

A strange growling sound erupted from his throat, then he dragged my arms down and turned, pulling me with him.

“What the…?” I battled his hold. “Get off me.”

“You’re being a brat,” he said. “And I won’t tolerate it.”

“I am not!” I half trotted and half staggered after him. “I am not being a brat. Let me go.”

“Not until you’ve gone over my knee, young lady, you need to learn that you cannot speak to me this way.”