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Chapter forty-four

The only light in the penthouse came from the television.  Abbey sat on the sofa in a tank top and a pair of print boxer shorts, her arms wrapped around her knees pulling them against her chest.  She already took her shower and went to bed after telling Robert she didn’t want dinner.  But she couldn’t sleep.  Abbey hoped a little TV would make her drowsy so she turned on The Weather Channel.  It didn’t work.

Robert’s words pounded in her brain.  Abbey fought against the idea that Sloan O’ Riley could possibly be in love with her even though he said so with his own lips.  How could the powerful, rich, sexy Sloan have feelings for someone as plain and poor as her?  They didn’t even come from the same world.

But Robert was right.  What did Robert have to gain from lying to her>

Abbey’s head turned as she heard the latch of the foyer door click open.  Her heart slammed in her chest as Sloan stepped in, his laptop bag and duffle slung over his shoulder.  She could tell by his deliberate actions he was trying to be quiet so not to wake her.  He smiled when he saw her still awake.

“Hello, Luv,” he greeted.

“Hi,” Abbey breathed.

Exhaustion was evident in his perfect face.  Subtle circles formed under his ice blue eyes.  His large frame slumped just a bit.  Sloan set his bags on the bottom stair of the staircase.

“I didn’t expect you,” Abbey stated quietly.

“My meetings concluded early,” Sloan answered as he collapsed into his armchair.  “I was to fly out tomorrow.  I just wanted to get home so I had the pilot make arrangements to fly out tonight.”

“Pilot?”

Sloan laughed.  “I have my own jet, Abigail.”

Of course he did.  Abbey felt herself fall further from Sloan’s social circle.

“Unfortunately,” Sloan continued, “that means I didn’t grab supper.  I skipped lunch so we could finish early.  I’m starving.”

Abbey shot up from the couch.  “Do you want me to make you a sandwich?”

Sloan nodded appreciatively.  “That would be wonderful.  Thank you.”

Abbey scuttled into the kitchen.  She dug a butcher-wrapped package of thick cut slices of ham, a block of cheddar cheese, a head of lettuce and a tomato from the refrigerator.  She absentmindedly began to prepare Sloan’s sandwich, Robert’s voice distracting her from concentrating on her task.

“Everything Sloan loved was taken from him.  He won’t have it happen again.  There is very little Sloan truly loves now and he protects it with his life.”

It was a miracle Abbey didn’t chop her finger off.

Abbey placed the pieces she prepared on a piece of whole wheat bread sitting on a plate.  She squirted some mustard on the second piece of bread and capped the sandwich with it.  She took a bottle of Guinness from the, popping the cap off with the bottle opener that seemed to live on the marble island.  She carried the plate and the bottle of beer into the living room.

Sloan sat in the darkness, his exhausted eyes focused on the glow from the television.  He had found the remote control and switched the TV to SportsCenter.  Abbey laughed a little.  It was good to see the god-like Sloan O’Riley behaving like a normal guy.

Abbey handed the plate to Sloan.  She set the bottle of beer next to the armchair.  He murmured another word of thanks before attacking the sandwich like a ravenous wolf.

Abbey left him alone to eat, returning to the kitchen to clean up the mess she made.  She shook her head violently to get Robert’s voice out of her head.

“Be grateful for his generosity, his protection and his love.  He doesn’t give them often.  Or easily.  He can’t afford to.”

Abbey exhaled slowly.  She looked out the kitchen door to the living room.  She needed him.  She needed to be in him arms.  She knew what she wanted.  Abbey tossed the dishcloth into the sink then trotted up the stairs to the loft.

When she came back downstairs she found Sloan unmoved, his eyes glued to the TV.  The plate the sandwich was delivered on sat empty on the table beside him.  He cradled the neck of the bottle of beer in his fingers, occasionally taking sips. 

Abbey sashayed across the floor to his side.  He looked up at her.

“Yes, Abigail?” he asked.

Abbey gently took the bottle from his hand and set in on the table next to the plate.  She lowered herself to straddle his lap, digging her knees into the cushion on either side of his hips.  Abbey pulled her tank top over her head then buried her lips against his.  She felt Sloan’s large, powerful hands grip her thighs to lift her as he broke their kiss.

“Let’s go upstairs,” he purred.

Abbey leaned into him to keep him in the armchair.  Her fingers slid against her bare skin along the waistband of her boxer shorts.  She pulled free the condom she had tucked in there and pressed it against the arm of the chair with her fingertips.

“No,” Abbey whispered breathlessly.  “Here.  Now.”

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About triciaandersen

I am the author and illustrator of the children's book "The Peculiar Princess". I am also the author of two adult fantasy romance novels, "The Sorceress of Savon" and "The Woodcutter King of Muladin". Along with being an author I am married to a wonderful guy and have three beautiful children. I coach youth track and field, sew and chase my children around to their various activities.

Posted on June 23, 2012, in author, books, fiction, novel, romance, story, Uncategorized, writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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