Resisting the Bad Boy

by Violet Duke

She didn’t even hesitate. “Before or after dinner?” The way she rubbed her sweet backside against him was a pretty good indication of which she’d prefer.

  He grew hard in an instant. “Before.” Wow, he sounded almost primitive just then.

  “Okay.” She pushed him down into one of the dining chairs. “We’ll do my celebration first and then we can have yours.” Tugging on his button fly, she teased, “I hope you’re not too hungry…because what I want isn’t going to be all that quick.”

  That’s what she thinks. With her curious hands all over him, he was ready to go off like a rocket ship at T-minus counting.

  But then she moved those hands off his jeans, and placed it on top of his. At his questioning look, she smiled. “Keep your hands on the sides of the chair.”

  She couldn’t be serious.

  “I’m serious.”

  Damn.

  “No touching.” She slid up his shirt and trailed tiny tortuous kisses across his chest…down his stomach… Jesus.

  Eyes half-lidded with lust, she murmured softly, “What I want for my celebration is to have full reign on your body…starting here.”

  Holy hell. Her hot little mouth was going to have him ‘celebrating’ in about thirty seconds if he didn’t get some control, fast. He steeled himself, gripped the edges of the cushion until his knuckles were strained white, almost painful. Any progress he’d made by that move was undone, however, when she kneaded her hands up his thighs and then along the base of his shaft, gripping him tight as she slid him deep into her mouth.

  His hips lifted sharply off the chair. Just once. He couldn’t help it. She was driving him crazy. Crazier still when she purred in pleasure at the hard, quick thrust.

  He let out a tortured groan, a wordless warning to her that he’d come soon if she didn’t slow down or—heaven forbid—stop. Another thrust, another purr and she was locking her eyes on his, holding his gaze as she took him all the way to the back of her throat.

  Fireworks exploded behind his eyelids.

  He forgot all about her rule then and reached out to spear his hands through her hair, gently pulling her to her feet, so he could pick her up, push her up against the wall. His mouth crashed onto hers as he yanked a condom out of the pocket of his jeans and got it on in record time. Pulling aside her panties, he poised himself at her entrance.

  “Open your eyes, sweetheart. Let me see you.”

  When she did, he plunged into her heat.

  Nothing, absolutely nothing had ever felt so good, so perfect. So his.

  For eighteen more days.

  “WHY DON’T YOU STAY? The construction guys are still going to be coming in and out of your cottage finishing up. It’ll be hell on your concentration.” Connor held onto her last suitcase, and she almost gave in.

  But she didn’t. Because the truth of it was that she wouldn’t be able to bear it when he carried her bags into the guest room instead of his own.

  He didn’t give up so easily. “You have way more room here to spread out your research, not to mention a very efficient dishwasher that’ll work for kisses and heavy petting.”

  Abby chuckled and pasted an overbright smile on her face. “Tempting, but it’ll be better for me to be back home.” The word ‘home’ tasted weird and chalky in her mouth, probably because she and Connor wouldn’t be using the word to refer to the same place anymore. Maybe she’d stick to using the word ‘house’ from now on… She hugged him tightly. “I had such a great time, Connor. Thank you so much for letting me stay here.”

  Why did that feel like goodbye?

  He held onto her hand. “Have dinner with me tonight?”

  She couldn’t. She couldn’t keep playing house with him. Couldn’t keep finding new and better reasons to fall for him, to lose her heart to him. She had to be strong. Protect herself.

  “Can we do it tomorrow night instead?”

  Oh yeah, real strong, Abby.

  His hand tightened around hers for a bit, and then let go. “Of course. Tomorrow night it is.”

  Remember, you can’t keep him. You have to give him up in two weeks. At least that reminder had the desired effect. “Did you want to go out for a change?” she asked, willing the tears not to show.

  He stared at her silently for a moment before nodding. “Why don’t we go to T. Cook’s?”

  One of the most expensive restaurants in the area.

  Her heart couldn’t take much more. “Sounds great. I’ll call you so we can plan a time.” She quickly took her last suitcase from him then and shoved it in her ‘SUV’—even she was using the quotation marks now. She slammed the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  Abby felt her breathing go haywire when she heard the doorbell ring.

  Aside from the one brief phone call they’d had to confirm what time he’d be picking her up tonight, they hadn’t spoken at all. She’d spent the day at the library reading, writing, arranging her books by cover color instead of topic—anything in her power not to think about Connor.

  Now here he was, and she knew all the work she’d put into building that wall around her heart was soon going to be tested.

  “Hi, Connor.”

  Talk about failing with flying colors.

  She was right back where she started a few days ago, losing herself in his intense blue gaze.

  “You look gorgeous, Abby.”

  “Thanks. So do you.” It occurred to her that in all their time together, they hadn’t once gone out on a date.

  Now she saw why.

  They stood there awkwardly for a moment. Before he reached out and dragged her into his arms. “God, I’ve missed you.”

  Her wall came crumbling down. “I’m sorry I moved our dinner to tonight,” she blurted out.

  He leaned back and brushed a thumb against her cheekbone. “Feeling bad about that are we?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” His lips came crashing down on hers. The kiss was frantic, hungry, just this side of angry. She was dizzy by the time he pulled back. “Don’t ever shut me out like that again, Abby. Not unless you mean it.”

  No. She wouldn’t push him away anymore. Couldn’t. “Do you want to cancel our dinner reservations and eat here instead?”

  He slid his hand through her hair. “Actually, I’m kind of looking forward to having a night out with you. To prove to you that we can do this.”

  How was it that he knew exactly what she was worried about? “You sound so sure.”

  “I am.” He put his arm around her and led her to his car.

  The Charger.

  She smiled. “Is your Lexus in the shop?”

  He grinned back. “Nope. I told you, I’m going to prove to you that we can do this. You and I can be together and be ourselves out there in the world.”

  “So you’re going to a fancy establishment where you’ll likely run into clients and colleagues?” With me. “In an old muscle car. Just to prove a point?”

  “Abby, I’d pull up riding on the handlebars of Skylar’s pink bicycle, hell, I’d let them see me drive up in your car to prove this particular point.”

  She burst out laughing.

  “You don’t believe me?” He reached for her purse. “Hand over the keys.”

  “No!” She giggled and ran over to his car. “We can’t go to a five-star restaurant in my car!”

  Connor pinned her against the car, capturing her lips in a deep, soul-searing kiss.

  It wasn’t until about five seconds after the kiss ended that she realized he’d big digging in her purse the entire time for her keys.

  A half hour later, Abby was still whacking him on the arm. “That valet kid thought we were punking him.” Another whack. “I swear, he kept looking around like a bunch of TV cameras were going to come rushing out.”

  “I know.” He chuckled. “Did you see his expression when I slipped him a twenty and told him to make sure to park it somewhere safe?”

  “Stop.” Whack. “Making f
un of.” Whack. “My car!”

  “Yes, this is far less embarrassing. Quick, sucker punch me in the gut. I think I see a lawyer from a competing law firm.”

  She instantly dropped her hands back to her sides. “This isn’t over,” she hissed.

  “Oh, I know. And I’m counting the minutes till we get home to see what you’ll do next.”

  Home.

  She had no idea whose home he was referring to, but at least they’d be there together…

  Holding out his arm, he asked, “Shall we?”

  Okay, so this was kind of nice. The restaurant really was very romantic. And since it wasn’t crowded at all, they were seated immediately at a table by the window. Gazing out at the stunning view for a moment, she looked quietly over at Connor. “Thank you.”

  Connor smiled back. “I think I’d much prefer a ‘you were right.’”

  She flicked open her menu. “I’ll keep that in mind if one day you ever are.”

  His soft, tickled laughter was cut off by a slick as silk voice from the next table over. “Why look Lynn, it’s Connor.”

  They both turned to watch a tall, distinguished looking man stand up and came over with his date—Abby would’ve guessed daughter at first but seeing his hand on the woman/girl’s ass quickly dispelled that theory.

  “Connor, did you get that paperwork I left on your desk today?”

  So, a colleague, then. One that, from the looks of it, Connor didn’t like very much.

  “Yes, I did. I’ll look over it in the morning.”

  The man didn’t leave. “Well? Aren’t you going to introduce me to your beautiful date?”

  Abby watched a muscle tick in Connor’s cheek as his entire posture turned rigid with anger. Alarmed, and thoroughly lost, she stuck her hand out to the man to try and diffuse the situation. “I’m Abby. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “I’m delighted to meet you, Abby. I’m Marcus, and this is Lynn my personal assistant.”

  Riiight.

  “So, are you two here on a date?” inquired Marcus.

  Abby could see why Connor didn’t like him.

  Connor’s glare went from angry to furious.

  “What? Can’t I be just a little curious about my son’s love life?”

  Son. The rude man was Connor’s father.

  “Lynn,” Connor shot a withering glance at the woman fidgeting beside Marcus, “I hope you remembered to order my mother’s anniversary flowers already. You know how hard it is to get those lilies that she loves so much.”

  Lynn blanched and mumbled, “No, I forgot.”

  Marcus raised an eyebrow in a silent touché, before conceding, “Fine, keep your secrets, Connor. I guess I’ll just have to get to know Abby better on my own.” He turned to face her. “Perhaps this weekend at the charity ball?”

  Abby froze, and did her best to keep her smile plastered to her face.

  “That’s enough!” barked Connor.

  “People are starting to stare, Marcus,” whispered Lynn.

  Marcus gave Connor a triumphant look and then took a step back. “Well, I see the two lovebirds just want to be alone. Have a good evening. Sorry to have interrupted your date.”

  Abby kept her eyes glued to the menu until he was gone. Really? Did he have to put such a scornful emphasis on the word ‘date?’

  “I’m sorry you got sucked into that.” Connor’s voice was literally vibrating with rage.

  She dropped her menu. Connor shouldn’t be apologizing for his socially corrupt father. “You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for.”

  He covered her hands with his. “That charity ball he mentioned—”

  Oh. Well, there was that. “You don’t need to explain.”

  “It’s just an annual gala we all go to because the firm is one of the main sponsors. I forgot about it completely. Usually, I just take Victoria to these sort of things but if you want to go, I’d love to take you.” He turned a shade uncomfortable. “It’s a black tie affair… I, uh, could take you shopping for a gown. And I’d buy it for you, of course, since you’re doing me the honor of accompanying me.”

  A little part of her died on the inside…then rose from the dead out of sheer annoyance when she saw Marcus watching them with that same aggravating smile.

  This was a vicious, vicious world Connor lived in. Surviving here took a whole skillset she lacked entirely.

  “What night is this ball?”

  “Saturday.”

  “I actually have plans for that night,” she lied, giving him a wan smile. “So I guess I won’t get to have my Pretty Woman shopping moment with you.”

  His hand closed tighter around hers. “I’ll stay home if you want.”

  She shook her head vigorously. “No, don’t do that. You should go have a good time.” Wanting desperately to get some air, she stood up and looked around for a restroom.

  He put his hands on her shoulders. “Talk to me.”

  “There’s nothing to say. I just can’t go. But I really, truly want you to have fun. Charities are important. And despite her kissing you and offering you a member massage, Victoria does seem kind of nice.”

  “You’re not upset?”

  “No, just uncomfortable,” she replied honestly. “Give me a few minutes to collect myself and I’ll be fine.”

  “I’ll give you five.” He gazed at her worriedly. “If you’re not back by then, I’m coming after you and we’ll leave. We can go to that little Chinese restaurant you said you love so much.” A genuine smile lit his face as he said it.

  Alright, now she was upset. But not at him. At his world. At his father. At everything that kept Connor tethered to the toxic things that were poisoning his life.

  She rushed off to the bathroom, knowing Connor would make good on his offer to whisk her out of there. But she didn’t want to give his father the satisfaction. Even now the evil man looked ready to laugh at her as she peered over at him on her way to the bathroom. How a man like that managed to father two of the best men she’d ever known was beyond her.

  Running cold water on her wrists, Abby felt some of the tension wash down the drain. She could do this. She wasn’t going to let him win. She was going to go out there with her head high and have a great night.

  And if she accidentally keyed his car enroute to her own, oh well.

  She smiled wryly at her reflection, knowing she’d never actually do anything like that.

  “You’re way too nice,” she accused her reflection.

  The sound of a small commotion outside interrupted her conversation with herself.

  Had her five minutes lapsed already?

  “HEY!” she yelled, when she opened the door and saw that the scuffle going on out in the hall wasn’t Connor at all, but rather, a very large man shoving around a very small woman.

  The second she saw the man start to rear back his arm, Abby set off on a dead sprint.

  “Leave her alone!” She rammed herself right into the man’s side, effectively budging him about two inches. He was a big man.

  “What the hell?” The man swayed on his feet and glared at Abby. “Who the hell are you?”

  She ignored him but kept one eye trained his way as she checked on the woman—good lord, she was tiny. The man could’ve snapped her like a twig. “Are you okay?”

  The woman spewed out a long hysterical sentence. In a foreign language.

  Okay, that helped Abby not at all.

  Sausage like fingers clamped onto her arm. “Hey, nosy bitch.” He spun her around like a top and Abby went flying against the wall. “Mind your own f—”

  The loud crack of a fist connecting with his face stopped that f-bomb from landing.

  Connor.

  The man went down. But Connor wasn’t done. He laid in two more punches before Abby realized he was planning on beating the man to a pulp.

  “Connor! Stop!”

  He didn’t. And that’s when all hell broke loose.

  Two managerial types came charging
past to yank Connor off the man. Marcus swept in soon after spouting some legal jargon to a horrified restaurant employee while his ‘personal assistant’ started anxiously talking on two phones at the same time. Nearby, the tiny woman was still screeching something in her own language and throwing her stiletto heels at the sausage-finger asshole, who’d begun puking up all over his designer suit. And throughout it all, Abby saw that half the patrons in the dining area were still eating and carrying on like it was beneath them to even bother to look their way.

  Abby shook her head. She so did not belong in this world.

  CHAPTER NINE

  CONNOR HAD NEVER BEEN more terrified in his life.

  When he saw that man throw Abby like a ragdoll, Connor had just plain lost it. Even now, he barely remembered what happened; thank god for the half-dozen or so witnesses who’d filled in his rage-filled blanks for the police report. He’d been too hazy to answer most of the police questions definitively save one: Abby had bum-rushed a man easily twice her size to protect a woman she didn’t even know.

  Who does that? Who is that good of a person?

  Abby.

  After he’d taken her home, he’d simply held her the entire night, not sleeping a wink, replaying the scene over and over in his head, imagining what could’ve happened had he not gotten there in time. As it was, Abby was sporting a bruise covering half her arm, outlined in the shape of each of the sonofabitch’s fingers.

  Connor fisted his hands in reflex and winced—his right fist was scabbed ragged all across the knuckles, while the left was the one that was still swollen and bruised. A charming look with his tuxedo.

  Flexing his fingers to ease the ache, he looked around the ballroom, still in disbelief that Abby had convinced him to attend. He hadn’t wanted to leave her side all week, let alone tonight. But she’d reminded him about her prior commitments for the evening and urged him to go.

  So far, he was having a lousy time.

  And reason number one was sitting right beside him.

  “Poor baby, do you want me to ask the waiters to bring some ice for your hands?”

  He rolled his eyes. Had Gabriella’s voice always been this annoying?

  “No thanks, I’m fine.”

  He couldn’t for the life of him remember why he’d slept with her, let alone dated her for an entire month. She was fake, vapid, and dull as dirt.