Chapter 37 #2
When dessert arrives, Taylor excuses herself and steps out onto the balcony for some air. The restaurant has several of them, one at each window, lit with soft lights that create a very intimate atmosphere.
"Overwhelmed?" a silky, sharp voice asks behind her.
Taylor turns and finds Abigail coming closer until she stops at her side, resting her arms on the railing, keeping a small distance between them—but not enough to keep Taylor from catching her perfume.
"A little," Taylor admits. "I still struggle to believe it actually happened."
"Then do it already, because it happened." Abigail straightens, and when she speaks, her voice is a growl—powerful and authoritative.
Taylor straightens too, feeling the tension when Abigail looks her in the eye. In this soft light, she can barely make out their color, but she feels that intensity crackling inside Abigail, the rage she’s been holding back for days, simmering on her tongue.
"Say it," Taylor says.
Abigail takes a step toward her—so intimidating without meaning to that Taylor steps back and meets the glass wall along one side of the balcony.
"Say it already, Abby. Spit out what you’re thinking," Taylor demands.
"You bit her," Abigail spits in a contained whisper.
"What?"
"Of all the things you could’ve done with her, that’s what messes me up the most," Abigail confesses. "You bit her, and I want to know how it felt to do it."
Taylor’s heart is scaling up and down her chest like her ribs were a staircase.
"Nothing," Taylor snaps, closing in so much her lips are about to brush Abigail’s.
"I didn’t feel a damn thing. I bit her because I was looking for you—I wanted to feel something of what I felt with you.
I searched for you everywhere and found nothing," she spits, furious, while Abigail catches fire under her breath. "I felt empty, and that’s on you."
Abigail arches a brow and leans back a little so she can look at her without seeing double.
"I’m the reason you had a lousy lay?" she asks, skewering her with eyes turned to two burning stones.
"Yeah, you are," Taylor says, holding her gaze.
Taylor expects Abigail to explode, to tell her she has no right to blame her, that she could have chosen differently, that she was weak and jumped into someone else’s arms at the first chance.
But Abigail says none of that—she doesn’t say anything at all.
Taylor only feels the executive’s hand slide from her cheek to her nape, tangle in her half-undone bun, and suddenly yank her hair back, holding her tight while Abigail looks at her with hauteur.
"You’re not going to fuck her again," Abigail spits, planting her other hand on Taylor’s waist, claiming what’s hers.
A rush of tingles hits the singer and locks up her lungs. Abigail releases her hair, but Taylor keeps looking at her with that defiant tilt to her chin.
"You won’t fuck her or any other woman," Abigail goes on.
"Then who am I supposed to fuck?" Taylor challenges, feeling herself grow wet.
Both of Abigail’s hands slide up her neck before her lips brush the singer’s.
"You’ll fuck me."
Taylor floods—she’s literally sure her wetness is soaking through her pants.
"Say it. Say you’ll only fuck me," Abigail demands.
"No." Abigail frowns. "What do I get if I say it? What are you giving me in return?" Taylor asks.
"Everything." Abigail doesn’t have to think about it. "I’ll give you everything."
Taylor wants to shout as loudly as she did this afternoon, but she can’t here, so she only smiles.
"Now say it," Abigail insists, not letting her go.
"I love you," Taylor blurts.
Something flickers in Abigail’s eyes when she hears it, something that would’ve sent her running at another time.
But not now. Now she kisses her, plunging her tongue into the mouth she’s been missing for weeks.
Taylor grabs her waist and twists the fabric of her dress as she lets out a growl of pleasure against her lips.
"Sorry," Liam says as he opens the door, dropping his gaze with a little laugh when the two women spring apart. "I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just came to say goodbye. Vanessa and I are heading out."
He retreats as quickly as he came, not without winking at Taylor first, which makes her blush to the roots. Abigail uses the moment to take a long breath and try to steady herself, though she doesn’t stop looking at Taylor.
"I suppose we should talk," she says, running a hand over Taylor’s face to gather several strands of her messy hair—the ones that have been driving her wild all dinner.
"Yeah, and don’t tell me it can’t be tonight, Abby. I need to get this straight once and for all," the singer asks, almost pleading.
Abigail nods.
"Me too. Mind if I walk you to your apartment? Erin’s still at mine; apparently, I’m excellent company," she mutters, sarcastic.
"Did you just make a joke?" Taylor asks, gaping, before letting out a little laugh.
Abigail smiles too, and they head back inside, say goodbye to the others, and the executive orders a cab that takes them to Taylor’s building.
When they reach the apartment door, Abigail stops, and Taylor looks at her while she gets her keys. Her expression shows that fierce inner war she always seems to be fighting, as if she’s torn between running away and throwing herself at Taylor.
"Please don’t regret this," Taylor murmurs.
"Regret what?" Abigail asks, her expression softening.
"Me. This," she points to both of them, "being here to talk to me."
Abigail stares at her; her eyes are as black as a moonless night in the middle of the desert.
"I have no intention of going anywhere, Taylor, but talking isn’t my immediate priority. Now open the fucking door already or you’re going to have to fuck me in the hallway."
Taylor drops her keys, but she scoops them up fast, finds the right one, and opens the door roughly, dragging Abigail in with her.