Caught Up In You: Edgeplay: The complete serial

by McCormick, Jenna

  Rochelle raises an eyebrow. “Is that what you want? The truth?”

  “It’s a start.” After an hour long Swedish massage, my muscles were plenty relaxed, my thinking a little clearer. “If I go back to Connor, it’ll be for good. I’ll be accepting him as my family and my future. I can’t do that if I don’t trust him.”

  Rochelle nods. Her reddish-gold curls are piled high on her head, and a few tendrils slip with the fervent motion. “I think you need to tell him what you’re afraid of, that there’s another side to him that could be trying to hurt you.”

  She’s right, I know she is. “Okay. I’ll do it.” I struggle out of the marble tub and head for the locker room. I shower off the clay remnants and swathe myself in the spa robe. Though I feel pampered and pretty, the weight of the decision weighs on me.

  I dial Connor and suck in a sharp breath when a woman picks up. “Mr. Edge’s line.”

  Who the hell is that tart answering his cell phone? Snarkarella forms the thought an instant before I do.

  “Hi. Um, I’m calling to speak with Connor.”

  “Mr. Edge is in a meeting. May I take a message?” Her tone is cool and brooks no nonsense.

  “Just tell him Baily Sinclair called,” I mutter and hang up. Well that was dumb. Did I really expect him to be sitting around all day thinking about me?

  Yes, Snarkarella answers. As you should after that video.

  Opening my locker, I yank out the jeans and sweater I wore here, all the while telling myself that he has a company to run, portfolios to diversify, or whatever else obscenely rich men do with their days. They don’t pine away like lovesick teenage girls eating gallons of chocolate ice cream, watching sappy movies and clutching their cell phones in hopes that love will conquer all.

  Is it wrong that part of me wants him to do exactly that?

  My cell buzzes at the same time Rochelle emerges from the shower. The display reads Connor. “Hello?”

  “You called me?” There’s a note of hope in his voice. Not everyone would pick up on it.

  “Yeah. Just to say thank you for the nice day. You shouldn’t have.”

  Rochelle makes a face at me as she shimmies into her yoga pants. I turn my back to give us both some privacy.

  “I wanted to. I left my assistant with important orders to contact me if you called, but you hung up before she could.”

  Heat scalds my face. Of course he would do that. “How’s your meeting going?”

  “Presently it’s going on without me.” His tone indicates he doesn’t give a damn. “So that’s the only reason you called? To thank me?” A twinge of disappointment carries across the line.

  “No. I thought maybe we could meet. Somewhere public,” I hastily specify.

  He knows the reason too. “You don’t want to be alone with me.”

  “We have a lot to discuss and we always seem to get distracted when we’re alone.”

  “Okay. I have to get back to this meeting, but I’ll send a car to pick you up at Rochelle’s at eight. My meeting should be over by then and I’ll meet you at the restaurant.”

  “Any news on the stalker?” I blurt, hoping that some crazed lunatic confessed to setting the car bomb and sending me sex toys. Because if someone else is behind those events, it wasn’t Connor.

  “No, so stay vigilant. I’ll put Justin on security detail if you’re nervous.”

  Justin almost died in the car bombing. I can’t stomach the thought of someone else possibly getting hurt because of me. “I’ll be fine.”

  Voices sound behind him. “Who’s that?”

  “Representatives from the Department of Defense. Apparently no one ever told them patience is a virtue.”

  I lean against the locker. I’ve interrupted his negotiations with the DOD, about his kill bot contract. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pull you away from something so important.”

  “Nothing is more important to me than getting you back.” His words are full of vehemence.

  “See you soon.” I hang up, my heart heavy. Part of me wants to celebrate with him tonight. His company created an incredible product with those kill bots. I’ve seen them in action. And scoring a DOD contract is a major coup. Connor deserves to celebrate his victory, not to be bogged down rehashing the past with me.

  Rochelle places a hand on my shoulder. “You look like you need a drink.”

  I’m about to decline. I never drink. But damn it to hell, I want to forget about all this craziness for a few hours. “Okay.”

  We’re about to leave the spa when one of the attendants intercepts me. “Ms. Sinclair?”

  “Yes?”

  “For you.” He hands me a stack of boxes.

  Rochelle waves me on in classic enabler style. “What are you waiting for? Open them.”

  We’re attracting attention in the lobby. I’m so not used to being the center of attention. “In the car.”

  The car service is parked at the curb. We climb into the back of an SUV, me holding the tower of boxes.

  Rochelle bounces as far as her fastened seat belt allows. “You’re killing me here!”

  “We can’t have that.” I open the boxes one at a time.

  The smallest contains rose colored open toed pumps. The name on the box is unfamiliar to me. I pass them to Rochelle, who whistles low. “Damn, that is a fabulous designer, brand new to the scene, but I see the next Louis Vuitton in the works.”

  The next package holds a matching handbag, followed by the most complicated lingerie set I’ve ever seen, garters, sheer hose and a one piece bodysuit beaded with seed pearls.

  Then comes the dress. A sleeveless form fitting raw silk top with an asymmetrical hem in the same shimmering rose color as the accessories. I hold it up, stunned.

  “Holy mackerel, it matches your nails!” Rochelle points.

  I look to my freshly manicured hands and lick my suddenly dry lips. “What do you think the odds are of this being a coincidence?”

  “What, you think Connor is having you followed?”

  I think back on our conversation, at how easily he dropped the matter of Justin acting as my security. So unlike the hyper vigilant yet paranoid billionaire I’ve given my heart to.

  Craning my neck to look behind us, I watch the city traffic, but can’t spot a tail. “I’m no Perry Mason, but I’m pretty damn sure of it.” Connor is a stalker, whether he’ll admit it or not.

  “So what are you going to do?”

  I stare at the dress once more. “Nothing until after we get that drink.”

  33

  “My dear, you are shitfaced.”

  I grin at Rochelle and hold up my chocolatini. “Why didn’t anyone ever tell me about these suckers?”

  “So you’re making up for lost time, is that it?”

  I’ve lost track of how long it’s been since we came into this bar. It’s a trendy little place not far from Rochelle’s. Twinkle lights surround the rectangular bar, suspended from exposed beams lining the high ceiling. The two male bartenders bicker in what Rochelle says is an ongoing lover’s quarrel.

  “Explain it to me again.” I wave the taller bartender over and indicate my empty glass. I can’t be sure, but I think he shakes his head before turning away. His name is Gerry and he’s got a nice smile.

  Rochelle rolls her eyes. “Okay. Gerry lives with Jesse, but he’s dating Thad.”

  “Thad’s the other bartender.” I wave to him and almost fall of the stool.

  Rochelle grabs my hand. “Not so obvious. They won’t let me come back. But yes, that’s Thad.”

  “And Thad used to date Jesse.” This is better than prime time television.

  “Bang. Thad used to bang Jesse. Back when he worked here, before he got his big break on Broadway. Anyhow, Thad’s convinced that Gerry and Jesse have something going on, on the side, because they’re living together. Lots of opportunity.”

  “But without the motive.” Gerry winks and sets a fresh chocolatini down before me. “It’s purely financial.”


  “But Thad’s irrationally insecure, wanting to keep track of your every move. I so feel your pain.” Do my words slur slightly?

  Gerry raises a brow. “Oh yeah?”

  “Tell him.” I wave Rochelle on.

  “Her billionaire boyfriend is stalking her, showering her with designer gifts and trying to win her back.”

  “Sucks to be you.” Gerry winks again.

  “Doesn’t it just?”

  He shakes his head. “You better not be driving tonight.”

  “Actually, I have a date with my stalker.”

  “Well, then, you better drink up.” Gerry walks away.

  “I like gay people,” I announce to Rochelle and the room at large. “I wish there were more of you.”

  Several claps follow us out into the night. “That was interesting.” Rochelle says as she guides me across the street. “You’re a happy drunk.”

  “I’m a happy person.” I hiccup.

  “Just not with Connor.”

  That seems so unfair. I tug away from her. “I can be.”

  “Not when I’ve seen you. You’re always stressed or anxious or moping.”

  “He makes me happy,” I insist. “Not as happy as chocolatinis, but happy.”

  “I’m not arguing with you, Baily. Just telling you what I see.”

  We continue on in silence, walking past the famous Dakota building. It looks stark against the leafless trees, and my fanciful imagination makes me jumpy. Though I try to hide it from Rochelle, I keep glancing over my shoulder.

  “He’s on the other side of the street,” Rochelle murmurs.

  “Who?”

  “Connor’s guy.”

  “You’re sure he’s Connor’s?” I’m not sure how she would know him from any other random stalker.

  “I’ve seen him before. Don’t know his name, but he’s definitely on your boy’s payroll.”

  “I trust your judgment,” I tell her.

  “Wish I could say the same, Baily Boozehound.”

  “How’s Lola?” I ask in classic drunken non-sequitur.

  Rochelle glances away. Suddenly I feel like a jerk for not asking sooner. When did I become so self-centered? “Is everything all right with you two?”

  “I haven’t talked to her in a while. Not since Dubai. I get the feeling she’s brushing me off.”

  “No, I bet she’s just busy. Have you called her?”

  “No.” Rochelle doesn’t look at all convinced.

  “You know how it goes.” I nudge her. “You get back from a long trip and then your needy despondent friend shows up on your doorstep and you get sucked into her drama. Time goes by and before you know it you’re half carrying her drunk ass home.”

  “And here I thought it was just me.” She shakes her head. “For a boozehound you make sense.”

  I grin at her, then lurch to a stop when I see Connor standing on her front steps. Hell. If only a simple phone call could fix my damage so easily.

  “Do you want to deal with him now?” Rochelle whispers.

  “I said I would.” I could have called him to cancel but instead I drowned my sorrows in a vat of liquor. Like mother, like daughter.

  Rochelle looks like she wants to argue. “Don’t make any life altering decisions until you sober up, okay?”

  Connor’s posture stiffens when he sees us. When he sees me. I stand a little straighter, the cold night air and his presence acting like several cups of coffee, banishing my lethargy.

  “Are you all right?”

  “She’s drunk as a skunk.” Rochelle lets go of me and heads to her apartment. “Don’t let anything happen to her, Connor. And I mean anything.”

  He scowls. “I wouldn’t take advantage of her—”

  His words are cut off when I seal my mouth over his. He responds instantly, wrapping his arms around me, hands splaying across my back. His tongue traces the seam of my lips and I open my mouth, letting him inside, eager for his taste. Circling my arms around his neck, I press my body closer to his heat, needing to feel him.

  “Don’t make me get the hose,” Rochelle says.

  Connor breaks the kiss, panting hard. Irritation fills me. That felt too good to stop, and I scowl at Rochelle. “Go call your girlfriend.”

  Casting us another disapproving look, she mutters, “Play nice you two. No fucking or fighting in public. I’m not bailing either one of you out.”

  Connor seems to be having trouble catching his breath.

  I grin up at him and try to step away but the world tilts. “Whoa.”

  Connor scoops me up into his arms. “Exactly how many drinks did you have?” He carries me into the waiting limo. The privacy glass is up and he settles me on his lap.

  “Didn’t count.” I rest my head against the curve of his neck. He smells delectable, a heady combination of dark masculine spices, and I want to lick the skin over his pounding pulse.

  “Were you trying to get drunk?” Condemnation fills his tone.

  “My fiancé is stalking me. It seemed like the thing to do.”

  His shoulders tense. “I’m not stalking you, Baily.”

  As comfortable as his body is, his attitude rankles. “Oh really? What would you call it then, having someone follow me around, gather information about what I’m doing, what freaking nail polish I’m wearing, and report back to you?”

  “Gathering intel. It’s what I do with all my investments.” He’s so arrogant, so sure of himself, and completely unapologetic.

  I whack his shoulder. “I am not an investment, damn it! You’re not going to see any returns from spending time with me.”

  Gripping my both my wrists in one of his, he holds me still. “You don’t think so?” He shifts, rubbing his erection against my backside. “I think I get plenty from you and plan to get even more.”

  His kiss is like a brand, searing my lips. I try to bite him, still irate over the stalking and his easy handling of me, but he stretches me out on the seat of the limo, trapping me beneath his massive frame, his tongue plundering my mouth ruthlessly. He tastes me deeper, rocking between my spread legs with his impressive length. There’s not enough friction, and I turn my head away, gasping for air.

  “Is that why you didn’t wear the dress? Because I knew what color to buy?” Another wicked shift of his hips. “Did you intend to stand me up all along? Is this your way of punishing me? Or are you trying to tempt me beyond reason until I take what I want by force? Is this a game, Baily?”

  We’re pressed together in the tight space. My breasts are flattened against his chest. Lust and alcohol have muddied my thoughts and I can’t seem to stop myself from rocking up against him, trying to increase the friction.

  “Is your pussy wet for me?” His free hand unbuttons my jeans and tugs the zipper down. His actions are tinted with violence, his normally tightly controlled motions jerky. Shoving my pants and underwear out of his way, he cups me between my legs. Two fingers slide easily through the slickness, pressing against my throbbing clit. “I knew it would be.”

  “Connor.” I arch into his touch, greedy for more.

  “Damn you,” he hisses. “I tried to be gentle for you, to be considerate, but that’s not what you want, is it? Not a drop of lube when I was tender, and now this? You put me through hell, drove me out of my mind, but all along you craved the same thing I did.”

  Two digits shove into my tunnel, driving ruthlessly. The look in his eyes is almost feral as he fingerfucks me hard and fast, his calloused thumb grazing my tightened clit.

  I shatter beneath him, my mind splintering into fragments of sensation as my pussy clamps down on his marauding fingers, drawing the pleasure out.

  He groans in my ear and attacks his pants. “Now. Now I’m going to punish you.”

  I barely hear him, dazed from the intense orgasm. Clothes rustle and then his face looms over me, eyes blazing with anger. It’s the look that gets me, one promising punishment.

  “Connor?”

  “Spread your l
egs,” he rasps, shifting his weight to align his cock with my opening. “Take it.”

  Something isn’t right here. “Wait a second—”

  Shoving my legs apart, he stares down at my exposed pussy with grim determination.

  “Connor, I don’t want this.” If I could just have a minute to think.

  But he’s impatient. “Yes you do. You’re eager for it, needing me to pound into your body, to show you who’s in control. To take it from you.” The crown of his cock prods me again.

  “I said no.” Fuck, what’s going on here and how do I make it stop?

  Safe-word, Snarkarella whispers.

  “Rosasharin,” I scream, pounding my clenched fists against his massive, immovable shoulders. He’s a hulking brute and he could do anything he wants to me. I haven’t been playing with fire, but with explosives. Destruction is imminent.

  For an endless moment I’m terrified that he’s not going to stop, that whatever demons are dogging him have taken over completely. Then understanding. Blue eyes come into focus and horror dawns as he stares down at me.

  He lurches away so violently, his elbow cracks the car window. I scramble to the other side of the seat, curling into the smallest ball possible.

  He almost did it. Almost got his revenge on my grandfather and abused my trust, my faith that he is more than a broken little boy with something to prove. My eyes water until my vision blurs, but I refuse to let the tears fall.

  Get dressed. Go inside. Snarkarella barks orders like a drill sergeant. Seeing as how she just saved me, I’m willing to take her advice.

  Connor remains frozen in the same position against the window. He doesn’t blink, doesn’t move. Slowly, so as not to startle him, I reach for my jeans. My underwear is shredded. Like my heart.

  I get dressed and it’s only when I reach for the handle that he speaks. “Baily—”

  “Save it.” My tone is sharp. I’m done playing this game with him. It’s too dangerous.

  “I need you.” His voice is barely above a whisper.

  I turn, pinning him with my gaze. “Why? Tell me why you need me so badly. So you can break me too?”

  He sucks in a sharp breath, his eyes wide. “It was supposed to be a game.”