"... You're a strange man Mister Wexler," Abigail said.
"You have no idea," he purred.
Lawrence moved off his chair so fast, Abigail had no time to react. He pinned her hands to her chair, nearly crawling into her lap to keep her from tearing away. He leaned in closer still, smelling of brandy, cigar smoke and something musky... intimate.
"What the hell are you doing?" Abigail snarled, turning her strength against his broad hands.
His mouth caught hers mid-protest, pushing her head against the high, ornate back of the chair. Lawrence groaned, then leaned in harder, forcing her lips wider as his tongue plunged in deep
Abigail turned her head aside, gasping, "Get off me Wesker!"
"Did anyone ever kiss you like that?" Lawrence demanded, nipping at her throat. "Anyone at all? Answer quick!"
"No!" Abigail cried out as his teeth latched onto her ear. "I will kill you if you do it again!"