Reflection (The Chrysalis Series)

by Sallinger, Elene

  She’d pulled out all the stops to show him exactly how good sex could be without any true kink. And, had it actually been sincere and not an obvious manipulation, he would have been over the moon. But it hadn’t been sincere. She’d been detached and calculating throughout the entire experience.

  It would have hurt less for her to just stick him with a knife straight through the chest.

  ‘Connor?’

  ‘Hmmm?’ He pulled his thoughts back to the present and focused on Mona.

  ‘Did you hear what I said?’

  ‘No, sorry. My mind wandered.’ He smiled.

  ‘I asked if you’d ever thought about showing your work?’

  ‘Oh.’ He shook his head. ‘No. It’s not something I’m really interested in.’

  She smiled and nodded. ‘OK, but if you change your mind, I’d love to see some of your work. I feature a lot of local artists at the café.’

  ‘Yeah, I’ve noticed. That mixed media artist you’re showing now is really talented.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Irving, Mona’s date grinned.

  ‘Is it yours?’ Connor hadn’t taken note of the artist’s name.

  He nodded. Connor had to admit, the last thing he would have expected this man to be was an artist. He was built like a linebacker, all broad shoulders and muscle. Connor had figured him for an athlete, not an artist.

  ‘Didn’t expect that, did you?’ Irving laughed a deep, gruff rumble. ‘Most people don’t. I get a lot of that look.’ He gestured at Connor’s face.

  ‘My apologies, man.’ Connor laughed with him. ‘You look like you should be scoring touchdowns.’

  ‘Well, that part helps with the ladies.’ He put his big paw of a hand on Mona’s shoulder and squeezed. Mona flushed a pretty shade of pink.

  ‘Don’t go getting full of yourself.’ She poked him in the ribs, causing him to flinch.

  ‘But it’s so fun,’ he good-naturedly returned the ribbing.

  Thankfully, the conversation turned to Irving’s work and Connor’s was forgotten, which was just fine with him.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  ‘Why are you talking with me about this?’ Connor gritted his teeth and bit back the curses that wanted to spill from his mouth. They wouldn’t be productive.

  ‘Sugar, I told you I was going to talk with Mona,’ Bridget said as she reached across the breakfast table and squeezed his hand. Where normally that smoky Southern drawl would have melted his tension, her tone was an obvious attempt at placation and it only served to aggravate him more.

  ‘Yes, I remember.’ He pulled his hand away. She’d brought the subject up after they’d left Claire and Evan’s house the previous weekend. Picking up his coffee, he took a long gulp and winced as he burned the roof of his mouth. Setting the cup down, he gritted out, ‘I also remember telling you not to do it.’

  ‘You’re being silly about this.’ Bridget sipped her own coffee and gave a dismissive wave of her hand. ‘You have an amazing talent and you should be doing something with it.’

  ‘Says who?’ He was being belligerent and childish, but in that moment he didn’t care.

  She just stared at him with a scowl. He wasn’t usually so argumentative. Hell, he prided himself on being an easy-going guy, but she had crossed a line. Worse, she didn’t even realise it.

  ‘Look, there is a very good reason why I don’t share my work. I thought you understood that.’

  He stood and gathered his breakfast dishes up, placing them in the sink. He’d deal with them later. Right now, he had to get moving or he’d be late for work.

  ‘What reason is that, Connor?’ She wasn’t letting up. ‘You’ve certainly never told me.’

  Gripping the edge of the sink, he did his best to rein in his temper. Why was she being so fucking pushy? This wasn’t like her.

  ‘Yes, I did.’ He turned to face her. Her brow was crinkled in confusion and her eyes were dark with worry.

  It only served to fuel his temper more.

  ‘That first day at the café.’ He saw her brows squeeze even tighter. ‘Fuck, Bridget! Over coffee! My parents!’

  He was yelling now and he didn’t like the wary look on her face one bit, but he couldn’t seem to find his self-control. He’d expended so much of it on their relationship that in this moment the well was dry.

  ‘Connor, I don’t understand,’ she entreated. ‘Talk to me. Please.’

  ‘I killed them, Bridget!’

  Before he even realised what he was doing, Connor snatched the mug he’d set on the counter and threw it. It shattered against the cabinet, raining down in small, green ceramic shards on his kitchen floor. Lotus and Daisy came running, but a sharp “stay” from him kept them from treading through his mess.

  His chest was heaving and there was a rushing sound in his ears. Leaning heavily on the counter, Connor counted backward from 20. When the sound of the ocean receded, he looked at Bridget. She was rooted in place, her knuckles white around the mug she held.

  He felt like an ass, but his control was lost.

  ‘They died the night I got the award for my art. I was obsessed with art when I was a child. I was also spoiled and threw tantrums when I didn’t get my way.

  ‘That night, we were running late. Dad had run into some traffic on his way home from work. I kicked up such a fucking stink about it he didn’t even change his clothes.’

  His voice broke and his eyes burned. He could still see the irritation on his father’s face. Connor had been relentless, nagging him to hurry so they wouldn’t miss a single moment of his big night. His adolescent ego had been so overblown.

  ‘If I hadn’t been so damned focused on impressing the world with my talent, they’d still be alive. If I’d just let my dad be, we wouldn’t have been in that intersection when that drunk ran the light.’

  Swiping at his cheeks, he said, ‘That is why I don’t share my work.’

  Bridget moved to his side, but he held her off with a hand.

  ‘No.’ His voice was thick with grief; he felt as if he was choking. ‘I don’t want comfort.’ He reached for the broom and dustpan. ‘Tell Mona thanks, but no thanks.’

  ‘You’re wrong, baby.’ She picked up the trash bin and uncovered it for him so he could dump in the remains of the mug.

  ‘Bridget,’ he warned. ‘This topic is not open for negotiation.’

  ‘Well, I’m not done talking about it,’ she snapped, catching him off guard. ‘The only person responsible for killing your parents is the woman who got behind the wheel drunk. You were a child doing what a child does and you have nothing to be ashamed of.’

  Rage, white and hot, built in Connor’s gut as she spoke. Wasn’t this the pot calling the kettle black! Oblivious to his change in mood, she continued without looking at him as she put the trash bin back in its place.

  ‘You’ve associated something painful and tragic to something perfectly natural for a child and you are letting it keep you from exploring your full potential.’

  ‘Are you even listening to yourself?’ His words were more sneer than anything else. ‘How dare you come at me this way when you won’t even admit the truth to yourself about what you want in bed?’

  She reeled back as if he’d slapped her, bumping into the counter and rattling the silverware drawer.

  Drawing herself up, she retorted, ‘Those things are hardly the same.’

  ‘Don’t kid yourself, Bridget.’ He ran his hands through his hair, searching for calm and failing to find it. ‘What? Hypocrisy only applies when it’s me. Is that it?’

  The colour drained from her face and he felt slightly sick. Still, the words poured out.

  ‘You hide behind this bullshit you spew about penance and punishment for some “imagined” crime, but the truth is what you want to do in bed is not some deviant sin you need to be punished for enjoying. It is nothing more than sensual exploration that is perfectly fine so long as both parties consent. Your rape was a perversion of that because you didn’t fucking co
nsent!’

  He slammed his fist on the counter. She flinched.

  ‘You want me to tie you up, Bridg. You want me to cause you pain and then make you come. Yet you deny it and hide behind an artificial wall you created and you don’t even see how you’re limiting what we have by doing it. You think we can grow like this, but we can’t.’

  He struggled to calm down but there was no calm to be found. Feeling like the ground was opening up underneath him, he ploughed on.

  ‘You may think it’s OK to have walls and barriers between two people. But I don’t believe there should be any when two people care about each other. And I damn sure don’t believe in artificial boundaries in bed. I believe that as long as both parties consent, and no harm is being done, anything goes.’

  He dragged in a deep breath and did his best to calm himself down. He’d been trying to be so patient. This wasn’t how he’d wanted to tackle this with her, but his patience had netted him very little so far. They’d plateaued. He wanted so much more with her and she wasn’t willing to consider it. He was tired of being shut down.

  It was time for her to fish or cut bait.

  ‘Bridget.’ He walked over to her and took her hand. Tears welled in her eyes and he felt awful, but damn it if he was going to apologise for the truth. ‘Look, I apologise for shouting, but I meant what I said. I think we need to talk about this, but right now is not the time. I don’t feel in control of my temper and I don’t want to say anything more I might regret.’

  He kissed her forehead and rubbed away a tear that streaked down her cheek.

  ‘Let’s talk tonight, after work, OK? I’ll make dinner.’

  She didn’t speak, but nodded.

  Taking her in his arms, he hugged her tight before releasing her and going to shower.

  Bridget squeezed the bridge of her nose, trying to will away the headache that threatened with no success. Her head felt as if it was in a vice. Her temples ached and her eyes burned. It had been a constant thing since her argument with Connor that morning.

  Tears welled but she fought them. Crying in front of her class would never do. She glanced around to ensure that none of her students was paying any attention to her. Fortunately, they were all busy with their final exam. Pencils were flying and calculator keys were tapping.

  Surreptitiously, she wiped her eyes. Her emotions had been on a tilt-a-whirl all day. It was bad enough they were arguing more and more over small things, but that had been gut-wrenching.

  She’d never seen him so furious, especially with her.

  Each word had been like a tiny knife in her heart. She’d thought the subject was dropped. He hadn’t said a word since their talk, and she’d been happy to let it go.

  He apparently had not. This morning had proven that they were far from beyond it, though. She could only hope that dinner would go better. Her stomach clenched at the thought of having to talk about it again.

  Maybe, she was wrong. Maybe she should trust him –

  ‘Problem, Ross?’ Dean Whittier’s voice crawled across her skin, jarring her from her thoughts. She hadn’t seen him come in.

  ‘No.’ Taking a deep breath, she began to straighten up the papers on her desk.

  Things had been different with him as well. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but it was almost as if she could feel the malevolence he had toward her. Her skin prickled every time he was near her.

  He’d finally stopped all his suggestive comments, but he was popping up in her classroom more often. Something she couldn’t do anything about since it was his prerogative to audit her classes, especially with her tenure review coming up.

  She’d find him looking at her with a look so hateful, she felt physically attacked.

  Today was no different; he appeared to be assessing her the way a lion might a gazelle in the Serengeti. She was definitely the prey here.

  ‘I wanted to inform you that your tenure review has been arranged for two weeks from tomorrow. The panel has been selected and you’ll receive a formal notification of all the procedures. Charlene’s putting together a packet for you.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She refused to be cowed, but looking into those dead, blue eyes make her stomach twist viciously.

  His eyes narrowed, his lips twitched mirthlessly, but all he said was, ‘I’d think carefully about what it will take to get that tenure, Ross.’

  Her heart sank, but she just stared into his eyes despite the desperate urge to look away.

  After several moments, he gave a soft chuckle and turned to leave, murmuring, ‘Yes, indeed. Think on that, Ross.’

  Dale closed the door to Bridget’s classroom behind him and made his way to the men’s room. His dick was rock hard and he didn’t want to walk down the hall advertising his hard-on.

  He couldn’t wait to remove that defiant look from her face. She thought he couldn’t see her fear, but it was written all over her.

  Good . The bitch. Everywhere he turned, there she was with that janitor. She had no right to turn him down and then bed down with dogs.

  Whore.

  He was going to enjoy putting her in her place.

  He leaned one hand against the stall as he took his cock in hand. All he could think about these days was her. It didn’t even matter who he was with, in his mind they all had red hair and green eyes.

  He stroked his rigid flesh as the image of Bridget formed in his mind. Those ruby lips would wrap nicely around his shaft. She’d suck hard, pulling on him as if to suck the come right out of him.

  Lately, he hadn’t even been satisfied with his usual conquests. He’d continued to fuck the waitress from Luna Bella. She was up for anything and it suited him to use her. Especially now Skyler had disappeared.

  She didn’t answer his calls and she wasn’t even in class. A check of her records had shown that all of her work was turned in and she’d even taken her finals early.

  The little bitch had just disappeared off the face of the planet.

  Whatever. She was inconsequential in the end. It hadn’t been the same since she’d let herself get knocked up, anyway.

  No, the one he wanted was down the hall, but soon enough she’d be exactly where he wanted her.

  That tight little ass would be his to plunder and those tits would bounce as he fucked hard into her. She’d whimper and moan and beg for him to stop and he wouldn’t. He keep fucking her harder and harder and –

  His release caught him off guard, slamming into him. Every muscle went rigid as he pumped into his fist, only the barest edge of his fury draining out with his semen.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Connor slammed the door on his locker and grabbed up his backpack. He hoped to catch Bridget in her office. The hurt on her face had haunted him all day long. He owed her an apology and he didn’t want to wait until they met for dinner.

  She had office hours every day after her last class and they’d be finishing up in about an hour. He figured he’d pick up a coffee from Mona’s for her and make it just in time for hours to end. After that, he’d just have to work harder at accepting her position on kink.

  When he’d finally managed to put his own desires aside, he’d come to the conclusion that, despite his beliefs, it was Bridget’s decision to make.

  When he’d asked himself the question of whether he wanted her in his life without kink or not in his life at all, the answer had been simple. He wanted her in his life. Hell, more than that, he never wanted to lose her. She was it for him. He knew it down deep in his gut.

  He was going to tell her too. As soon as he saw her.

  A glance at his watch had him picking up the pace. He was going to miss her if he didn’t get a move on.

  Bridget glanced at the clock on her wall and did her best to find patience with her student. Her hours were officially over and Clay was determined to press his point. He was a solid student, but he was a whiner and he wasn’t pleased with his lab assignment grades.

  She’d already explained to him twice that un
less he wanted to repeat the experiment and do an entirely new work-up the grade would stand, but he kept trying to cajole her into giving him a higher mark on the existing lab.

  ‘Morris.’ The dean’s voice had them both jumping. ‘Professor Ross has made herself clear. Either repeat the lab or take the grade. Your choice.’

  Clay turned almost purple with embarrassment at being caught out by the dean. Mumbling an apology, he agreed to keep the grade and hustled out of Bridget’s office.

  Grudgingly, she murmured, ‘Thank you, Dean.’

  Whittier didn’t bother responding as he walked into her office and dropped an envelope on her desk.

  ‘What’s this?’ Bridget took up the envelope and unpinned the flap, sliding out a single sheet of paper.

  ‘Your tenure review information.’ The door lock snicked into place. Bridget’s heart raced as realisation dawned on her. He’d just locked them in together.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Her voice was shrill as fear flooded her.

  She stood up and rounded her desk, going for the lock, only to be stopped by Whittier catching her around the waist with an iron-hard arm. He pulled her against him so that her back was pressed fully against his body. She could feel his erection.

  Not that he was hiding it. He pushed her against her desk and rubbed his dick against her ass.

  ‘I told you to think very hard about what you were going to do to get your tenure, didn’t I?’

  Despite the fact that she was trembling from head to toe, she managed to grit out, ‘Let go of me, Dale. This is assault and if you don’t let me go, you’re going to regret it.’

  ‘What are you going to do to me? Huh? You’re nothing but a hypocritical little slut.’

  He grabbed her hair and pulled her head back. It felt as if all the individual strands of hair were about to rip right out of her skull. Cold ropes of adrenaline raced through her veins even as fear paralysed her.

  The room spun; the rushing in her ears drowned out his words. But nothing could erase the feel of his hands on her body. She heard buttons pop as he ripped open her blouse. The sheer cream silk of the bra she was wearing ripped as he jerked it down, spilling her breasts out into the cold air conditioning.