Текст книги "Resisting the Bad Boy"

Автор книги: Violet Duke

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CHAPTER NINE

IT WAS WORSE THAN BAD.

It was impossible. Six days of pure, unmitigated, using-up-all-the-cold-water agony. And there were still eight days ahead to face.

Survival was looking highly unlikely.

He had to admit though that the last six days had been pretty great in their own right.

Fun.

Given the constraints of her busy writing schedule, Connor made sure to limit himself to only one short, concentrated flirt session with Abby a day, either by phone or a flurry of text message bantering.

And every night, she’d greet him at home with a radiant smile, and depending on how steamy their flirting had been that day, a damn cute blush, too.

It was addictive.

After seeing her warming his home her first night there, he’d found it impossible to stay away each following night as well. Sure, he still had his occasional evening meetings and late office work but he always made sure to be ‘home by dinner.’

What a concept.

Growing up, his father had never felt a need to do it more than once, maybe twice a week. Even though he’d had a wife and two sons waiting at home for him. As a kid, Connor had missed him, from middle school on, not so much. Now as an adult with someone to actually come home to for once—regardless how temporary it was—he felt renewed disappointment in his father. Again.

Or rather, still.

“I cooked us up some Greek food tonight,” called out a cheerful voice from the kitchen, breaking into his thoughts, luring him over to where all the sumptuous smells were originating.

The sight of Abby bent over pulling something out from the oven was the best thing he’d set his eyes on all day...at least until she plopped the baking tin on the stove and gifted him with her most dazzling, room-brightening smile yet.

Then that officially became the greatest thing he’d seen all day.

Perhaps all year.

Yeah, it took a real bastard not to want to come home to this every night.

“Hi honey, I’m home.” He just wanted to try it on for size. Strangely, it felt good. Like a vintage suit tailored just for him. Tomorrow, maybe he’d even go pre-technicolor and trip over an ottoman on his way in. Milk the novelty of this all while it lasted.

“Everything looks great.” He kissed her cheek—the only body part she was letting him kiss. For now. “But you should’ve told me you were making such specific dishes; I would’ve ordered the groceries you needed online and had them delivered.”

“Don’t be silly. You’ve been paying for groceries more than I have as it is, which makes zero sense,” she retorted. “Plus, this whole culinary traveling around the world adventure is my thing. You shouldn’t have to pay for it.”

“I’m eating it,” he argued back.

“Just like I’ve eaten on the nights you’ve cooked.” She gave him a look that said, ‘so there.’

See now if the lawyers he faced in court looked half that cute during their rebuttals, he was sure he’d lose a whole lot more.

Grinning, he conceded, “Okay then. Since tomorrow’s my turn to cook, what say I jump on this tour of yours and whip up something really exotic. Like mac & cheese with weenies.”

Abby giggled. “What is it with you and all these comfort Americana dishes? Looking at you, I’d never picture it. Were you one of those that cooked with your mom growing up?”

He snorted. “Hardly. We had a cook, which freed up mother to drink her three square meals more often than not.”

“Oh.” A regretful frown dimmed her face. “I’m sorry I brought it up.”

“Hey.” He tipped her chin up. “No feeling bad over the poor little rich kid with the present-but-still-absent parents. Did I mention I had my own pony growing up? Well, it was on lease at the polo club but still, how many kids can say that?”

The stubborn glaze of tears in her eyes unnerved him.

No one ever cried for him. Because of him, yes—more than he cared to think about—but never for him.

He bent down and fit his mouth to hers, telling himself it was just a comfort kiss. To take away some of her sadness. Inside, he knew he was really just capturing the memory for himself so he could open it like a Christmas gift one day when she was long gone.

God, when was the last time he’d actually gotten a gift? Wrapped personally just for him?

Years, maybe.

Suddenly, the parched thirst for every desire he’d been denied this past week, every variety of warmth and affection he hadn’t really ever noticed not having until now had him pouring his soul into their kiss like a lost man aching to be found.

Soon, comfort was the last thing on his mind.

“You’re killing me here,” he drew back, but not far. Brushing his lips against her soft lips back and forth, he was amazed at how alive the simple contact felt, how every last little experience was more vibrant with Abby. “I don’t think I can last another week of this. Wanting you this bad without having you.”

Her breathless, “Me neither,” did nothing to cool him down. Without another thought, he lifted her onto the granite and slid between her legs, feeling her heat even through the cotton barrier of her shorts.

“Good lord, you’re huge,” she gasped.

He’d have smiled if he weren’t gritting his teeth hard enough to crack a molar. “And you’re wet. For me.” He traced his tongue over the racing pulse at her throat, the beat a near match to the pounding he felt all through his veins. “If you really want to stop, tell me now.”

It’d be pure torture, but he’d back off if she said the word.

Before she could say anything at all, however, he thrust his hips against hers again in reminder—and promise—of what a ‘yes’ would entail.

A rush of male satisfaction assailed him when she moaned and locked her legs around his waist. He knew he wasn’t playing fair, but right now, it was hard to police himself. Not with her teeth raking across his neck every time he rocked against her. Not when every gorgeous sound coming out of her just made him even harder.

Want her even more.

His name fell from her lips then and he almost lost it. Raw and needy, the sound was pure sex-on-tape. And the look on her face as she said it cast a thick, lust-filled spell on him. Had him growling in hunger by the time she finally pulled him in for a kiss—the first one he hadn’t had to instigate between them since she’d moved in.

Christ, it was sweet.

With hands unsteady with lust, his fingers sank into her lush curves, sealing her tight against him as he pushed harder against her core. Every quick, broken cry she couldn’t hold in was like a blazing hot homing beacon, steering him as he nudged his erection higher, slipping over the one spot that effectively scattered her voice, hijacked her breathing, and compelled her to all but ride him as he did his best to simply hold on and take stock of what little control he had left.

“Touch me,” she whispered.

His restraint snapped.

He slid a hand under the hem of her t-shirt, undid her bra and pushed the offensive thing out of his way. Skimming her shirt up slowly, his lips soon broke away from hers on a groan.

Plump and ripe, she filled his hand and then some. She was perfection. Softly rounded and feminine, just like the rest of her. Delicate. Sexy.

He had to taste her.

“No, wait.” It came out as a raw, almost inaudible whimper.

For one horrifying moment, he truly thought he wouldn’t be able to.

Jaw clenched, eyes shut tight, he forced in an unsteady breath and somehow managed to inch back at the very last second with a ragged curse that blew hot and harsh across her pale pink skin.

She cried out. The sensation making her arch and send her taut nipple grazing against lips.

He wasn’t strong enough.

A better man could’ve fought the temptation but not him. Not now. Not when it came to Abby. Groaning, he lashed his tongue out and dragged it over the sensitive peak awaiting him. Once. Twice.

She wanted you to slow down.

He yanked himself back at the reminder of her soft whisper moments prior. Panting, appalled at his lack of restraint, appalled that even amidst his self-flogging, his mind was still a tornado of images all locked on him taking her right there on the counter, over and over until stopping was the last thing either of them would be capable of. Until they burned through whatever this was building between them.

And then instantly started all over again.

Holy shit. He curled his hands into fists and kept his eyes off her naked breasts, away from everything he couldn’t have, so goddamn close he could taste it.

Did taste it…for three mind-bending seconds.

“I…” she began, crossing an arm over her chest.

“No need to explain,” he cut in, voice strained. “I told you to tell me if you wanted to stop.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, trying like hell to punch out some space for his raging hard-on. “I better go up and get changed for dinner.”

A tiny, trembling hand on his arm prevented his escape. “I’m so sorry, Connor. I’m not trying to be a tease or anything, I swear. I just need to stick to something when I say I will. Especially this something.”

“Forget about it,” his voice gentled. “Don’t apologize for saying no, Abby. You can always, always say no.”

Her hand fell away. And something in her silence made him study her face closely. “Honey? Are you okay?”

“That’s just it. Just because I can doesn’t mean I always did. Which is why I need to stick to these two weeks.” She shook her head sadly. “You wouldn’t understand.”

No, he was starting to get that he didn’t understand anything fully when it came to Abby, when it came to what was clearly more than just the game of wits and stamina he’d thought it to be.

“Then why don’t you explain it to me, sweetheart.”

CHAPTER TEN

“IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT, you know,” she teased with a rueful shrug, trying to make light of the situation, knowing that she now had Connor’s undivided attention. “I’ve never had a problem sticking to my guns until now. That’s why I made that stupid wager with you. Because I got cocky with an undefeated record that’s spanned over thirteen years.”

Abby gazed at him, at the concern she saw etched in his beautiful features. For years now, she’d watched him from afar, always knowing whenever he was really concerned about something because his eyes would go from its normally intense pale blue to the softest gray, usually when he was looking at Beth and Brian.

She’d never, ever wanted those sympathetic gray eyes aimed her way.

Too late now.

“You joke about my being a nice girl. But I wasn’t always. In high school, I was the furthest thing from it.”

At his disbelieving expression, she scoffed. “Believe me, it’s true. ‘Til my sophomore year, I was just me. Just Abby. A nothing, really...until one guy told me he saw me as something.” She exhaled softly. “It was the prototypical teen dream—an older, popular, incredibly hot guy looking at me in ways no one ever had before. And he was exciting. Not because he was some rebel without a clue, either. In fact, he was actually top of the senior class and an all-star athlete to boot. Your basic high school stud, really…who had it bad for corrupting good little girls.”

Feeling Connor tense, she looked away, afraid of what she’d see in his expression. “Seemed everyone but me knew how much he got off on finding the most pristine girls and turning them into playthings that would do anything he asked.”

“That was me my junior year. At first, it was only a little dominant play here and there. Nothing major. Kind of fun, in fact. But then a month or so in, he started pushing me past my comfort zone more and more, but just a little at a time.”

She fiddled with her pan of spanakopita. “I remember, actually, exactly when it was that he’d started pushing. We were hanging out with his friends one night and he asked me to flash everyone, just once, to ‘show them how hot his girl was.’ I didn’t want to. And I’d felt so young and silly for saying no. Mostly because he’d seemed so matter-of-fact about it, so shocked when I didn’t do it right away.”

She shook her head at the memory. “When I looked over and saw him looking so completely disappointed by my refusal, I just...shut out that voice in my head yelling no and simply yanked up my top and bra without thinking. After his friends finished hooting and hollering, he spent the entire rest of the night treating me like a princess. And I remember distinctly feeling like what I’d done had been totally worth it.”

“From then, his requests started to get more intense. In the beginning, I swear, I said no. A lot. But he’d changed his tactic from the flashing incident, going with a more sweet and cajoling approach that somehow had me starting to say no less and less each time.”

Blinking slowly, she met Connor’s gaze head-on, “I’m not saying this was all his fault, because it wasn’t. Yes, I felt pressured by the thought of losing him but part of me felt okay going with it as long as it was under the pretense of ‘him making me do it.’ That became the easy button for me to push to do every depraved thing he wanted me to do.”

“The first time he had me do something for a bigger crowd was at his friend’s house with a bunch of his teammates after they’d just won a big game. All the other guys’ girlfriends were there too. And after a few beers, most of the couples had started making out and stuff. No big deal. I was doing the same with my boyfriend. But somewhere along the line, it was like I blinked and a full-blown game of musical chairs with sex partners was suddenly happening all around me. Then out of the blue, I was picked up off the couch and led down on to my knees by these two massive linebackers.”

“That’s when he came to my rescue. My boyfriend. He pulled me off to the side and told me how he didn’t want to share me with any of his friends. I was so damn thankful for that, for him. So when he went on to explain that I could I just give him a blowjob in front of everyone to get them off my back, I did it. Without any hesitation.”

She swallowed the acrid taste in her mouth at the vivid memory. “Can you believe I’d felt special that night? To be the one girl whose guy wouldn’t share her.” She laughed bitterly at herself. “Of course, it was just all part of his long con.”

“After that night, for a while, everything was great. Fairytale-like. I was so smitten with him that a part of me did this whole ‘told-you-it-wasn’t-a-big-deal’ thing. Which is probably why I was so blindsided by the party at his friend’s house a few weeks later—basically a huge orgy.”

Abby watched the muscle tick in Connor’s cheek and did her best to tamp down her mortification. “He said the same thing as last time, that all I’d have to do was ‘perform,’ no big deal. But then before I knew what was happening, all my clothes were dragged off by what felt like a hundred hands and he’d kissed me up onto the center of the dining table with everyone surrounding it, guys and girls. And video cameras.”

She didn’t realize she was shaking until she felt Connor squeeze her hand. “I still remember the big crystal chandelier above that dining table. Weird, huh? There I was naked in front of dozens of kids, half of whom didn’t even go to my school, and all I could do was stare at that chandelier. Half hoping it would fall from the ceiling so I could stop. Get up and go home. But it didn’t fall. It kept right on hanging there, twinkling at me…”

“...While I masturbated for them all.”

Something dark and vicious crossed Connor’s face.

Along with pity.

Stifling, drowning shame almost prevented her from going on. But she continued, wanting, needing him to understand. “I can still hear them yelling, egging me on. But I just couldn’t...finish. So they started demanding I do other things instead with the other girls and guys there. I was drunk, and a little high off pot, but I still knew for certain that I didn’t want to. I’d had more than enough.”

Though she’d replayed that night hundreds of times in her head, the next part still slammed her like a wrecking ball each time. “When I started crying and grabbing my clothes to leave, my boyfriend just wrapped his arms around me and began ‘comforting’ me. Telling me how he’d never been more turned on in his life watching me up there. He laid it on thick, telling me how unbelievably sexy I was, how special I was to him. And then he busted out the big guns. He looked me square in the eye and told me he loved me. Loved me. That’s all it took. Three little words and I was crawling back on that table, holding his proud gaze while I headed over to the small group of kids who’d taken my place in the spotlight. All the while, the cheering from around the table got so loud…”

She shut her eyes. “It was so loud I didn’t hear my parents come barging into the room.”

Knife-sharp humiliation and remorse sliced through her fresh like it did every time she saw their devastated faces in her mind.

Connor’s face right now was just as cutting.

“Apparently, some girl from the party had called my house, told my parents where I was and that I was in trouble. I never found out who though. I never got to thank her for putting a halt to something I would’ve regretted more than having my folks see me like that—as the free entertainment at a high school sex party.”

She trudged through the rest, didn’t bother glossing over how stupid she’d really been back then. “My parents didn’t say a word. They just threw a jacket on me and rushed me out to their car so fast, I almost didn’t see my boyfriend in all the chaos. But he made sure I did. He planted himself next to the entrance and blew me a kiss goodbye...before turning to a drunk girl beside him and pulling off her top. Her skirt came off next. And then he started feeling her up right there in front of me. Showing me how quickly he could replace me. Watching and smirking at me the whole time. And I actually cried over that, over him the entire ride home.”

“I would’ve killed him,” Connor snarled then, enraged. “Still could if you give me his name. That guy was a sick, twisted psycho who took advantage of you, Abby. He broke you, practically brainwashed you. For chrissakes, you were what, only seventeen?”

“Sixteen. And yeah, that’s what my folks kept telling me.” Hot tears welled in her eyes. “To this day, I still can’t believe I put them through all that.” Her voice broke. “After how hard they worked to give me a great childhood, that’s how I repaid them. I didn’t have a sad home life or tragic backstory; my own selfish idiocy was the sole reason I’d turned into a teenage slut.”

“Don’t ever call yourself that!”

She jumped, never having heard such a hard edge to his voice before. “But I was. For him, at least. It’s okay. I don’t blame myself or anything self-destructive like that. I certainly don’t absolve him or think of him as anything less than a sociopathic piece of scum who deserves every karmic torture coming his way in hell. But I don’t ignore or make excuses for my part in it either. I’m not proud of who I was then and my not sweeping it under a rug is what has made me who I am today. Like you said, I could’ve said no at any point. It was on me that I didn’t.”

When he started to object, she shook her head firmly. “No. Don’t try to convince me otherwise. I was a victim, yes, but a participant as well. My body, my decisions. And as you can see,” she waved her hands over herself. “I turned out just fine. From porn star to professor.”

“That’s not funny,” he bit out.

“Yeah, my mom doesn’t like that joke either. Whenever I make a crack like that she always scolds me and tells me I should let go of the past. Let go more, period. She seems to think I overcorrected a bit with my life, but I don’t. I like who I am now. If guys call me a goodie-goodie stuck-up tease, so be it. I know who I am.”

“And who is that, Abby?” asked Connor softly.

“I’m the nice girl by choice—my wish, my reality.”

His eyes hardened. “So now I’m the new asshole corrupting that reality.”

Her brows shot up in alarm. “What?! No!”

“Is that what the sexual inquisition was about the other day?” Now he sounded downright livid. “All that threesome talk? Is that what you think of me? You think I’m like that monster who tortured you in high school?!”

“Of course not!” she gasped. “I asked you all that because I was genuinely curious. Honestly, what happened when I was sixteen had less to do with the sex and more to do with the control. The control I gave up over my own life.”

When he looked unconvinced, she grabbed his wrist. “I’m telling you the truth.”

“Are you?” He pulled away. “You tell me guys basically call you frigid but here you were the other day asking me about every raunchy thing I’ve ever done. I know you weren’t just teasing me, either; you’re just not built like that. So what the hell, Abby? Do you see me the way you saw that guy? Do you feel like you have to turn into a slutty plaything for me? Because it’s not true; not at all. I’d hate to have any woman be like that for me.”

“I know that, Connor, I swear. I wasn’t planning on losing myself with you, or for you. All that talk wasn’t specific to you. I’d have had the same questions for any guy whose sexual history differed from mine. In fact, I make sure of it so we both know what we’re getting into. I’m not repeating the mistakes I made back then; I know the difference between identity and fantasy now. Whether or not I like your fantasies, I’m not changing my identity. Not for you or for any man.”

“Stop talking about being with another man!” he exploded.

She eyed him warily.

“What if I’d wanted the threesomes, Abby? What then?”

“I-I would’ve considered it seriously...and decided if it was something I really wanted.”

“So consider it now. Humor me.” His scowl was fierce.

She shoved a ruthless lid on her embarrassment, trying desperately to show she really did want a logical discussion about this. Heck, she’d had it with each of the three other guys she’d dated seriously in the past. Just…in a far more hypothetical manner, since their fantasy sexcapades didn’t come close to Connor’s real life history. “I’d be too jealous to share you with another woman,” she confessed. “So I’d have said no to that right off the bat.”

A low grunt was his only response.

“As for you and another guy.” She bit her lip. “I admit the thought of it is a little hot. But…” How was she supposed to explain it? How was she supposed to tell him that she wouldn’t, couldn’t even remotely consider a threesome if true emotions were involved…something that was fast becoming the case with Connor. “I feel like I’d lose the connection of being with you, just the two of us. So no, I wouldn’t want that either.”

He gave her a measured look before replying gruffly, “I feel the same way.”

She smiled at his clipped, audibly relieved response. There, that wasn’t so bad. “Then it’s settled—no threesomes. See? Mature and rational. I know when I brought it up the other day we were goofing around but this was what I wanted. This control right here? I gave him this when I was sixteen. That’s what I hated the most about it all. So now I keep that control secured tight. Live by it, rise and fall by it.”

His expression softened. “That’s what you meant when you said you need the two weeks you asked for? For control?”

“Yes. Back then, I felt like I didn’t know my own mind, and that the few times I did, I didn’t stand up for what I wanted, good or bad. If I’d wanted to be a slut, I wouldn’t have hated myself so much. But that wasn’t the case. I was weak, every bit the mindless plaything he’d turned me into. Too scared to admit to him what I did and didn’t want, and foolish enough to convince myself that his wants were mine.”

She unloaded a long, emotional breath as she reflected on all these tenets of her life that she hadn’t thought about in awhile. “I’m never going back to that. Not in any shape or form. Now, every decision in my life is mine. I take a good look at my wishes, whatever they may be, and work hard to make them my reality. That’s how I came back from all of it, by taking 100% ownership of my life.”

She slid a hand along his cheek. “And that’s what I’m realizing I should’ve been doing here all along. With us. This past week, I haven’t been totally honest with myself on what I truly want. I hid from it. From you. The truth is, you are most definitely a wish I want to become my reality. Even if it’s only going to be a short reality.”

That last part made him flinch.

“I’m entering this with my eyes wide open,” she reassured him. “Telling you my sordid past simply reminded me how being scared to admit to and hold true to what I really want never got me anywhere good. You’re what I want, Connor. What I’ve wanted for a while if I’m being perfectly honest.”

She felt his heart rate pick up under her palm.

“Dammit, Abby. You can’t offer yourself up to me on a silver platter after telling me everything you just did.”

“I know. So that’s why we should just do what we had planned. Eat, talk, and watch a movie. For tonight.”

“And tomorrow?”

“I’ll be just like your other one-month women.” She smothered her body’s immediate objection to that statement and held his gaze. “I’m not resisting what I want anymore.”

The latter half, her body didn’t have any complaints over, seeing as how it was the absolute truth.

Resisting Connor Sullivan was no longer an option.