Dirty Love (Dirty Girl Duet #2)(19)

“You’re coming with me,” I order.

“Yes,” she says on a moan. “Now.”

I f*ck my hips upward harder into her and pull her down at the same time, unleashing both our climaxes.

Greer’s head falls forward, and our hearts hammer in time for long, unmoving moments.

“You okay, baby?”

She nods, dropping her head backward onto my shoulder.

“We need to get you cleaned up.”

She nods again, and I wish I’d had the forethought to grab something to clean up with. Spying cocktail napkins on the table next to the couch, I lean us both over and snag them before handing them to Greer. I help her stand and clean up before unbuckling the restraints on her ankles and arms, and knead her muscles and joints.

“Bathroom is in the back. Your other bag is under the seat. I grabbed it from the bedroom so you’d have clothes.”

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say. Greer’s head snaps around and her gaze lands on me, fury and hurt dominating once again.

“I still can’t believe you freaking kidnapped me.”

“I did what I had to do. I needed you out of there, and I wasn’t going to ask your brother’s babysitter for permission.”

She shakes her head. “You could’ve knocked on the door like a normal person, and after I’d cried a little, I might have let you in. But no, you had to be the badass mobster’s kid and break into the house, tie me up, gag me, and stuff me into a f*cking bag. Who does that?” Hysteria invades her tone, and I infuse mine with authority.

“Go clean up. We’ll talk about this when you’re done.”

Greer’s expression hardens into a cool mask. “I don’t know why you think I’m taking orders from you. You don’t own me. You might have said that you love me, but I’ve never felt rage like I did the moment after I realized I wasn’t being sold into white slavery and instead was being terrorized by someone I thought I could trust once upon a time. You lied to me, and I can see it in your face—you’ve got no remorse.”

“You’re right. I lied. I don’t regret it. I wouldn’t change a thing because it meant I got to have this time with you. You can expect me to play by your rules all you want, Greer, but it’s never gonna happen.”

Her hands ball into fists, and she drops her gaze to the carpet. When she looks me in the eye again, it’s with a straight spine and the posture of a queen.

“And the phone and Wi-Fi? Cannon said you messed with it to keep me cut off. Like some kind of crazy person.”

She may expect me to lie again, but I won’t. “I had to keep the outside world away. We needed that time to figure out what could be possible for us.”

Greer studies my face, dissecting my answer. “And you’d do it again, wouldn’t you?”

“I’ll do whatever it takes. When you’re the prize, there’s no lines I won’t cross.”

Her eyes narrow. “I’m no one’s prize. Go f*ck yourself, Cav.”

I’m not expecting the slap, so when it lands on my cheek, my head snaps sideways.

She walks with dignity toward the bathroom at the back of the plane, and I wonder if I’m going to be able to dig my way out of this.

Her words echo in my head. I’ve never felt rage like I did . . .

Moments later, the sound of quiet sobs escape from the bathroom, gutting me. Fuck.

After making quick work of the lock on the door, I pull it open and Greer is hunched over the vanity, her shoulders shaking as she cries out all the emotions of the last few days. I pull her into my arms but she struggles, beating against my chest.

“I hate you. I hate how you make me feel. Why do you do this to me? It wasn’t enough to crush me three years ago? You had to come back and do it again? What kind of sick bastard are you?”

Her fists connect with my chest over and over, and her tears soak my T-shirt. But I say nothing and hold her tighter.

I’m not letting her go.





I’m not this girl, the one who breaks down and cries in bathrooms. I’m not prone to outrageous emotional displays, crying jags, or pounding against a man’s chest as I tell him I hate him. But somehow, I’ve become this girl with Cav.

Is it because I’ve never felt anything so strongly before him? That means something. Doesn’t it? Have I been floating through life on this boring plateau where my emotions were always on the level, barely veering up or down? Do I want to go back to that? The colorless world where everything is fine and acceptable rather than amazing, but sometimes gut-wrenching?

You can’t have the sweet without the bitter, and as much as I want to tell Cav to stop screwing with my heart and my head, I already know what my life is like without him.

Gray. Bleak. Acceptable.

I want more than that. And dammit, I want him, even if he’s crazy enough to think kidnapping me is a good plan.

With that realization, my pounding fists become grasping fingers that curl into his shirt and draw him closer. His arms tighten around me, one hand cupping the back of my head and pulling it to his shoulder.

Can I accept this? Him? Even with the lies he has told me?

I know myself well enough to realize I can’t move forward with him until I let go of the anger and betrayal.

Tears continue to fall, but instead of tears of anger, there’s a cathartic force behind them. When they subside, Cav’s grip on my hair loosens and I lift my head to meet his gaze.