When her arms slipped around his shoulders and she pressed into him, a dangerous jolt rocked him, warning him to let go, not to take this any further. But her mouth moved against his with a passion and fervor that rivaled his. And it only tied the knot more firmly, wedging them together so that he couldn’t let go of her.

As his mouth tangled with hers, he knew this was where he’d wanted to be for a long time. Maybe even before he’d come back to South Park. The Lord knew he’d tried for years to deny his feelings for her. He’d done everything within his strength and power to resist the pull. But somehow, inevitably, he’d ended up here.

Did she feel the same way? Had she been waiting for this moment forever? Or was she toying with him like she did the other men in her life?

At the opening of a door and sunlight spilling over them, Ivy broke the kiss with a startled gasp, and her eyes rounded on someone behind them.

The haze of desire clouded Jericho’s mind, and he couldn’t tear his attention from those lips that had been meshed with his. As she released him and tried to step away, he couldn’t let go, didn’t want to lose the pressure of her exquisite body against his.

But the thudding of heavy footsteps pounded a warning.

“Stop, Flynn.” Ivy’s voice wavered.

Before Jericho could make sense of what was happening, a hand clamped on his shoulder, ripped him away from Ivy, and spun him around. Then a fist smashed against his nose, and blinding pain filled his head.

Ivy screamed.

Warmth gushed from Jericho’s nose and over his lips. The metallic taste of blood touched his tongue at the same instant a second fist pummeled into his stomach and doubled him over.

“Flynn, you old goat. You stop it right now, do y’hear?” Ivy jumped onto Flynn’s back, causing him to stumble backward, giving Jericho a glimpse of the cold fury in his expression and the murder in his eyes.

Flynn was going to kill him. Even with Ivy hanging on, her arms tightening around his neck, he lunged after Jericho again.

A part of Jericho hardened with the need to defend himself. He’d learned to fight long ago and could hold his own. But another part of him knew he deserved every blow Flynn gave him.

“C’mon, Flynn!” Ivy’s shout was laced with desperation as Flynn pried her loose and then turned and barreled toward Jericho, his fist raised.

Jericho braced his shoulders for another punch.

“Hold on now, Flynn!” Wyatt’s call came as Flynn threw a fist against Jericho’s cheek.

“Stop! Please! Stop!” Ivy rounded Flynn.

Jericho could hardly see, the pain in his face making the room spin.