Unworthy Of You (The Spring Rose Bay Series Book 2)

by K. L. Jessop

A desire burns in the pit of my stomach.

  I could have given her a reason to stay, but there’re a thousand reasons why she shouldn’t, and for that, I let her slip out from under my touch. Getting her to stay for me would be wrong when I have nothing to offer her. I’m nothing more than a worthless dickhead with a dark past and a fucked-up future, why the hell would she want me?

  I should have told her how beautiful she looked, that he is a lucky guy, but instead I spoke to her like shit as jealously rippled at my chest.

  I’ve had an afternoon with undesirable connections and wanted nothing more than to come back after my shitty day and see her. She was the one thing I was looking forward to seeing. And the one thing that got me through the ordeal I had to face. But when I pulled up and saw that prick in my driveway, it angered me. No one outside of work other than close friends has any recollection of where I live and she’s gone and brought him here, uninvited.

  Pouring myself a whiskey, I sit by the window; the darkness of the room eases the tension of my headache. I sit with Megan’s heart necklace entwined around my fingers. She left without it even though she hardly goes a day without wearing it, as it was a present from Amelia.

  My mother is the cause behind today. That one day of the year I hate where I give her flowers and wish her many happy returns whether I want to or not because it was Annie who taught me to have respect for others regardless whether they deserved it or not. That one day of the year where my mother still polishes her fucking silverware and drinks champagne whilst telling me yet again what a disappointment I am to the family name. And because of her, and the venom she creates in me, I came back here and disrespected Megan in the worst possible way.

  My mother’s daily drinking hasn’t subsided. After having years of practise, she’s now got a talent where she drinks so much, yet somehow still has the ability to function for the working week. I’m surprised her liver is still going. As a child, it used to be the occasional night during the week, but it soon developed to weekends once she left the office. One bottle led to two, and two soon became a crateful, hidden in the cellar because weekends meant Dad worked away and my child-minder was unavailable so it was only my mother and me.

  Drinking herself into oblivion was my fault. I existed. I was the reason her life had become full of such disappointment where children were concerned. I was the reason why she had to take loans from Dad’s company to go through endless treatment and try to get pregnant with the daughter that I was supposed to be.

  She drank so much she got nasty, drank so much she often lay in her own urine while her clothes were covered in vomit. I was eight years old the first night I found her, and I thought my world had broken because I was suddenly a lost little boy with no mummy… the one person at the time I loved more than anyone—the one person I was so scared of losing.

  I made sure she was breathing, cleaned her up as best I could, covered her with a blanket and cried so hard I fell asleep beside her. The next morning, I woke to have my father’s belt across my legs and had to go without food because I’d sat with her all night rather than staying in my room and out of the way like I was told. All I wanted was a mother to love me and all I’ve got is a fucking monster.

  My father was no better when he lived with us. I used to sit at the top of the stairs in the dark and listen to them arguing about me. She'd say what a stupid inconvenience I was and that I was worth shit, whilst Dad would defend me for a few minutes until she worked her sick way into his thoughts and he'd eventually agree. It soon led to not only Mum treating me like crap, but Dad too, and eventually I became a boy that lived in his own world and began to like the shadows that filled the darkness.

  That’s just one part of my life where I hurt people with my existence. Many years later, I managed to ruin more lives and those memories as well as the others continue to haunt me daily. That was until Megan. From the moment she walked across the room and straddled me all those months ago, and kissed me like I was fresh air, she blew my world apart and I’ve not even made her mine. She is beautiful and I am broken. These last few weeks, getting to know her more has brought me light, and it’s vastly becoming an addiction I can't ignore.

  Wanting to ease the tension and have her close, I take out my phone. I want to make sure she’s ok. I’m not likely to hear from her and I understand why because I was so hurtful, but I need her to know how sorry I am.

  Me: I’m so sorry, Megan. Please understand I never meant those things I said. Where are you?

  Jealousy still pools in the pit of my stomach with the thought of Jason’s hands on her. But a little relief quickly replaces that when she replies, even if it’s only a word.

  Megan: Out!

  Me: Where?

  Megan: Having fun. Where that is is none of your concern!

  Me: Please come home.

  I’m unsure if that’s a request or an order, but I become impatient and text her again.

  Me: Megan?

  Megan: What!

  Me: I said come home.

  Megan: And I said I'm out having fun. Go get some of your own and play with your dick.

  I grab myself another whiskey to try and block out the rejection of her text. All this time, this was what I intended to happen in order to protect her from myself, only now I’m fighting against my own feelings.

  For the first time in as long as I can remember, sitting here in silence deafens me. Being alone on a night after a day like today only makes the unwanted memories fester more than they already do.

  I need air.

  Grabbing my house keys, I head out in the direction of Rubies. The evening is warm. Billions of stars glitter up the night sky as the waves crash against the rocks, soothing the soul that’s still healing.

  Ordering a whiskey, I head for the far end booth—out the way of men on heat and woman in little clothing—trying to avoid eye contact with anyone I might recognise. The bar and dance floor area is low-lit like usual with a haze in the air that makes it look smoky.

  “Hey, man. It’s the wrong side of midnight to see you in here,” Jack says, collecting glasses.

  “I needed to get out.” Despite it being a club, I didn’t come here to socialise. I came to find a different kind of peace.

  “You here to meet Megan?”

  My eyebrows draw. “Why would I be here to meet her?”

  “I don’t know.” He shrugs. “Maybe because she’s staying with you and is coming in shortly with Felicity.”

  I shake my head. “I highly doubt it, she’s out on a date.”

  Jack laughs. “Dude, this is Megan, she never dates.”

  As if on cue, she walks in along with Felicity and a guy that isn’t Jason. My heart pounds at the sight of her. She looks fucking flawless in that dress. Frustrated at the sight of the new guy I don’t recognise, I immediately want to whip that smug look off his face and knock his teeth to the back of his throat as he flounces over her.

  She’s yet to notice me, and I don’t even think I want her to; that way I can watch her a little more. Her tanned, summer skin is flawless and her collarbones look more exposed without the decoration of her necklace. Ordering herself a margarita and tequila chaser, she leans in to the guy as he speaks in her ear. Whatever he says amuses her as her laughter bounces against the music.

  Neither of the girls are drunk, I can tell from the way they behave, but that doesn’t stop Megan kicking off her heels and climbing up onto the table that has her name carved in it and dancing to whatever girlish crap that’s just come through the speakers. It’s like music and dancing is her calling. When the beat hits, Megan’s there, fighting back with her moves. She sways to it, bending her knees so her ass sticks out to tease onlookers as her arms move above her head and fingers lace her hair.

  Fuck, she drives me crazy.

  When her eyes eventually find mine, she stills. That fire burns between us. I can’t stop this connection no matter how hard I try. I want her. I ache for her, and ending each night with my cock in m
y hand while I have the visions of her pretty mouth around it are getting old when I can have the real thing that’s right in front of me.

  A random guy on the table in front catches my attention when he comes back to greet his mate, talking about Megan and all the dirty things he wants to do to her as though she’s a piece of meat. My blood boils instantly as the two of them watch her move.

  She’s too precious for his hands to be on her. I clench my jaw and tighten my grip on my glass, trying to gain control as I watch him move across the floor towards her. My body is blazing with fury. I don’t like the way his hungry eyes are on her. He’s the type of man to fuck a girl in a park and leave her to pick up her own underwear while he phones his mate to score points.

  Throwing back my drink, I’m out of my seat heading towards him as his hand slips up her leg whilst she continues to dance on the table. The tightness in my chest turns my blood to pure venom as rage burns through my veins like an exploding volcano.

  She is mine.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Megan

  “Andrew! Andrew, stop!”

  I see it play out like an action movie as he thunders his way across the dance floor, grabbing the guy by the shoulder and swinging for his jaw, knocking him backwards into a group of people sat at a table. Anxiety floods my stomach but my pleading words are lost through the music and scuffles. I hate seeing people fight; you just have to ask Amelia. I know what damage it can cause. But right now, it’s Andrew I fear for, and I need him to stop.

  “Andrew, please… Jack, do something!” I yell as the guy takes a swing at Andrew.

  Within seconds, Jack and Nathan round the side of the bar, pulling the two men apart by the scruff of their shirts, heat and anger radiating between them as club dancers gather around us.

  “Nathan, get rid of him!” Jack orders as he holds Andrew back. His eyes are locked on me: hot and angry, full of guilt and unanswered questions and an emotion he’s yet to unveil. His jaw is clenched, and his fists are balled tight at his sides, shoulders rounded with tension. Every part of me wants to go to him, but my body is fastened to the ground. I’m speechless and embarrassed but most of all confused as to why he’s behaving so irrationally today.

  “What the fuck was that?” Jack asks, but his question is left in the air as Andrew pushes his way through the gathered crowd, causing me to stumble back into Felicity as he leaves the club via the side door. Movement from onlookers slowly begins to distribute across the dance floor, while myself, Jack and Felicity are left wondering what the hell just happened. My eyes are focused on the door where he’s just exited. My mind is racing.

  “Megan, you ok?” Jack takes hold of my arm as I start to feel the colour come back to my face.

  “Yeah. Where are my heels?” A sudden urge swells in my stomach. I need to be with Andrew. I don’t like the thought of him being alone. “I’m going to find Andrew.”

  Felicity grips my arm as I step to leave. “Don’t you think you should give him space?”

  “No. No, I don’t. The man has had too much fucking space.”

  As I leave Rubies and head for the house, scenarios run through my mind with the unpredictable behaviours I’ve witnessed from him in the last twenty-four hours. I’m riddled with so many feelings of my own yet I’m more concerned for the man that’s behind them. This isn’t like him, but nowadays, I don’t know which Andrew I’m likely to get. Everything he said earlier is forgotten. All the hurt I felt from his words has drained away. I curse my low resistance towards him. Any woman in their right frame of mind would have packed their bags and left. Only, I’m not that kind of woman. I’m strong and independent, yes, but my heart can’t help the direction it’s being pulled towards.

  The house is dark, but I sense he’s here. The soft lighting from the hallway brings me to a halt as it highlights the outline of his shirtless body. Arms outstretched against the fireplace wall, the solid muscles of his back and broad shoulders define strength as his head hangs low. My heart thunders at the sight of him and I hesitate for a moment, unsure whether or not to approach.

  “Andrew?” I murmur, my voice unsteady. I get no response; my heart is in my throat as I step closer. “I’m struggling to understand what’s going on with you?” The heat ricochets off his back, his breathing still fighting to gain control. “Please talk to me.”

  I want him to look at me. I want him to let me in. I want to share his suffering and take his pain away, even if only for a minute. I place my hand on his bare shoulder, but his rapid response to my touch takes my breath as he forces me against the wall, taking my jaw in his hands.

  “What are you doing to me?” he growls in a whisper. The edge of desperation in his voice is unbearable. For a moment, I don’t know how to respond. My body is numb, my heart pounding against my chest. There is so much anger in his eyes I should run, but I don’t. His anger is not my doing: it’s from something far greater, something that runs deep within him.

  “I’m not doing anything,” I murmur. “I’m just being me. I’m just being Megan.”

  Turmoil coats his features as my words sink in, evidence that his mind is running wild with questions and answers he finds hard to speak. I can’t help but wonder if I am at the root of them. He doesn’t have to tell me anything I don’t already know. I see the way he looks at me, the way he wants me close, but for some reason he is too afraid to break the barrier.

  “What’s going on in that head of yours, Andrew?” I murmur.

  My core craves him as nerve ending within me to come to life. His stare should be unnerving with the intensity of it, but it’s one I want more of. He looks lost, tangled with his emotions and wearing an expression that tells me he is hurting. I want to protect him from that hurt; I want to protect him from everything.

  Like before, his eyes close and his chest expands under my touch when I place my palms on his hot torso. Our lips are a fraction apart as his arousal creates the fire that fuels my burning desires.

  “You don’t have to fight this, Andrew,” I whisper. “It’s ok to want this. I know you want this.”

  The pressure of his hands on my jaw becomes a little stronger, and his heart pounds a mile a minute through his clammy skin.

  “Touch me, Andrew… please,” I whisper. The need for him in my plea is immense. “I need you to touch me.”

  His eyes are still closed, his jaw locked. He’s still fighting. “I can’t.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if I do… I won’t be able to stop.”

  I shiver with his words. I don’t want him to. I want to lose myself in him forever. “I don’t want you to stop,” I whisper.

  If he wants this as much as I know he does, he has to be the one that takes the lead. I can’t do any more than I already have, and even though it’ll kill me, I’m prepared to walk away if I have to.

  When his eyes finally find mine through the shadowy room, I’m hit all over again with just how beautiful he is. Thick with desperation as they burn heavily into mine. I know I wanted him to make the next move, but my urge is too great to control, and before I realise I’m doing it, I crash my mouth to his with a kiss that’s fierce and smouldering as he holds my body tight to his. A growl escapes the back of his throat as our tongues collide, working each other’s mouth in desperate need. It’s as though he needs this kiss to make him breathe, stripping every breath from me and filling his lungs with new air.

  I feel him everywhere.

  I’ve longed for this.

  Resting his forehead on mine, he pushes my back harder against the wall and holds my face, my hands grasp the muscles of his shoulders as our breaths ricochet with one another.

  “I've tried so hard to resist you,” he whispers. “But I can’t fight anymore. I need you, Megan… just for tonight.”

  I can’t decide if I feel insulted or more turned on. I don't want just one night, I know I need more even before we lose control right here and now, because I know how good he’ll make me feel even be
fore he sinks deep between my thighs. I know he’ll ruin me in every way, and I’d let him.

  Even though I don’t want to I find myself granting his request. “Just for tonight,” I whisper, taking my lips to his.

  He turns me, unzipping my dress for it to fall from my body. My front is against the cool brick wall and I shiver as his finger trails down my spine. He pulls my hips so my ass sticks out and slides down the sodden lace of my underwear for it to fall to my ankles. Everything seems in slow motion. I’m delirious and wet, yet he’s not even touched me. I moan when he pushes a finger inside me, then another.

  “You feel so good against my fingers,” His breath tickles my ear. “So hot. Just like I knew you would be.”

  The feel of the rough wall and the soft fabric of my bra send shocks against my nipples. Weeks of sexual tension begin to build against his fingers as they thrust deep. I place my hands flat on the bricks and push my ass further into him. He growls as I rock my hips into his arousal.

  “Oh. God, Andrew!” I cry. Electricity surges from my toes when his thumb circles against my clit. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

  Fuck, this feels amazing.

  I’m so close. My head tips back from the pull at my hair before kisses are planted on my neck. When his teeth nip the skin of my shoulder blade, I cry out in pain and pleasure.

  He turns me, taking my mouth in another reckless kiss. If he can make me feel this way with his fingers, I’m desperate to know what he can do with his dick.

  “I want to taste you.” It comes out as though it’s a question, him watching me for a response as he slowly falls to his knees.

  “Then taste me,” I whisper, grinning. He’s beautiful, all muscle and hard lines, I’m not letting him finish until I’m unsteady and sore.

  The scruff of his beard scratches the skin of my stomach with his wet kisses. He hooks my leg over his shoulder, his eyes come back to mine hooded and starving.

  Fuck, he’s going to kill me.