Summer Heat

by Carly Phillips

  Abby couldn’t imagine anyone being so callous to their own family.

  Connor shrugged. “After the fourth grade, I kept on getting good grades, but for myself, not for him anymore. Then by the time I was in high school, my motivation to do well academically shifted to one goal: going away to a school on the east coast without having to ask my father for a penny.”

  “Hence, Columbia.”

  “Yep. And since I wasn’t the athlete Brian was, I had to rely solely on academics to get me a scholarship. Ironically, that was the one and only time I ever remember my father sounding even remotely proud of me. The day I found out that I’d gotten my full ride there.”

  “That must’ve felt good.”

  “You’d think.” His jaw muscle ticked. “But then he ruined it by immediately mapping out my whole life for me—law school at Stanford and eventually a partnership in his firm so I could be the second Sullivan listed on the door. As always, it was still all about him. I know it sounds petty but I remember practically gloating when I stopped him and told him there was no chance in hell I was majoring in pre-law or going to law school. Hell, I almost fell over in shock when I saw him actually display an emotion then. A little one of annoyance. Of course, ten seconds later, he just dismissed me completely once again, shoved me back to the completely invisible status I shared with my mother and brother.”

  Abby listened to Connor practically spit the words out, utter them with such hostile contempt that she was momentarily too thrown to ask how in the world his life ended up taking the very road he’d swore it never would—Stanford Law and the youngest senior partner at Caldwell, Sullivan & Phillips.

  Then she did the math.

  He was three years older than Brian; he’d been a senior at Columbia when Brian found out Beth was pregnant. Of course. “You went to law school for Brian,” she said quietly.

  He stiffened.

  She pulled back and looked at his shuttered eyes. “Does Brian know?”

  “No, and you can’t tell him. He thinks I always wanted to go to law school.”

  She remained silent, giving him the chance to get it all out. Undoubtedly for the first time ever.

  “Brian was planning on quitting college to go work full-time and build up some savings before the baby came. I couldn’t let him do that. Unlike me, he’d always known what he wanted to do. My major was basically ‘anything but law’ while his had always been business. Honestly, Brian has a natural knack for business that in many ways surpasses mine. If he’d been the one to get a dual JD/MBA from Stanford, he’d probably be a major CEO by now.”

  Very true.

  “But that wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted to be a dad, deemed nothing more important than that from the very second that stick turned blue. So we sat together and discussed his future, weighed his options. Since teaching was another thing he’d always been interested in, he decided to apply for the teaching program at ASU and major in business and economics. A perfect life choice for him, really.”

  So how did Connor’s going to law school fit in all this?

  “The biggest obstacle Brian faced was money,” he explained as if reading her mind. “When he told my parents about the pregnancy, my mother simply drank herself into oblivion as she always did, and took her usual pretend-it-wasn’t-happening method of handling it to save face at the club. My father, however, was much more direct. He offered to pay for a one-way trip for Brian and Beth to go live in a different state. As if his son becoming a father as a freshman in college was the most shameful thing for him, the great Marcus Sullivan. After that, Brian refused not just my father’s insulting offer but his tuition money as well.”

  Abby didn’t blame him.

  “So, I made a decision. I cashed out my entire savings, along with the trust fund from my grandfather that I’d just gotten control over after turning twenty-one, and bought Brian a house. I told him it was a property investment that I wanted him to live in and take care of for me while I was away. Simple enough and pretty much true. But that still left the issue of Brian’s tuition. I was tapped out at that point and Brian didn’t have much of a savings to speak of to cover schooling on top of day to day living. And with a baby on the way, I didn’t want them to be buried in student loans when he had a perfectly good trust fund just like mine to cover his tuition and incidentals. So, I went to my father and asked him to invoke his power as trustee to release the funds to my brother even though it was three years premature.”

  He glowered. “My father, of course, refused. Held it hostage.”

  “Until you made a deal with him,” Abby guessed. God, their father was a bastard.

  “Yep. The agreement was that I’d follow through with all the plans he set forth for my future in exchange for that one piece of paper.”

  She couldn’t believe it. Connor basically bargained away his entire life for his brother. For her best friend.

  Voice thick with emotion, she whispered, “You’re incredible, you know that right?”

  A wary cloud passed over his expression. “Abby, I told you not to do that. Don’t build me up to be someone I’m not.”

  Tears prickled in her eyes. Why couldn’t he see how wonderful he was?

  Frowning, he stroked her cheek. “Stop, honey. Don’t cry over—”

  Not wanting to hear him dismiss his actions or himself yet again, she stubbornly fused her mouth over his and just let go, allowed herself to sink into a kiss that held everything she was feeling but wouldn’t dare say, everything she knew to be true about him that he simply wouldn’t accept.

  Emotions tangled, soul ripped bare, she started taking as much as she gave until eventually, he was kissing her back just as desperately. Threading his hands through her hair, and transforming this all into so much more than just a kiss.

  Gasping, she sat back.

  When had she ended up on his lap?

  No matter. It was one less step for her to take. She flung off her shirt and reached for the hem of his. Skin and heat, and muscles that were tensing just from the touch of her fingers—she needed to feel it all. Now.

  Two large hands trapped hers and held her tight against his stomach, stopped her from dragging his shirt open, from sliding her hands any higher over the rock-hard muscles of his abs.

  So she moved lower instead.

  “Christ, Abby. Not like this.”

  The sexy gravel of his voice was so much grittier than usual. Hotter. So sexually charged she felt she’d go insane if he didn’t do something, anything to quench this fire building inside her.

  She could hardly make out what he was saying.

  All she knew was that the mere sound of her name had never brought her this far this fast before.

  It would take just one touch, just one, for her to go up in flames.

  That’s when it occurred to her that she couldn’t open her hands. Couldn’t budge them at all. Eyes closed, mind half gone, mouth still being devoured by his, she finally realized he was restraining her, preventing her from undoing his belt buckle.

  And she lost it.

  She tore her mouth from his and struggled to pull her hands free. Right now, nothing mattered more than feeling him against her. In her.

  He held firm.

  Frantic now, she twisted, tugged, jerked her body up against his arms, effectively bringing his knuckles right over her sensitized core. Once by accident, the second with a vengeance.

  She bucked against his closed fist and fastened her lips back on his, tasted the possessed groan rumbling up his throat and nearly screamed when his hand finally, finally opened and turned to cup her heat.

  The pace was no longer hers.

  He was relentless, touching her in every way her own fingers could never measure up, taking her higher and harder.

  Until his rough, “Come for me, Abby,” sent her shattering into a thousand jagged pieces.

  * * * * *

  CONNOR WAS DROWNING in a pool of lust.

  He didn’t have much practice at bei
ng the good man but for Abby, he really wanted to try.

  So he kept his hands chastely at her hips, his now painfully tattooed zipper fly firmly left closed, and his mind on anything but how she’d looked coming apart just for him.

  He found he was really bad at being good.

  When she eventually stirred from the mini-slumber she’d fallen into, she rubbed her cheek against his chest and said softly, “You know, I’ve never had sex in a car before.” Her voice, which was always ultra-sexy, was now a full-blown sex kitten purr.

  Not. Helping.

  He managed an unintelligible, hoarse sound in his throat. Pretty damn good effort on his part, considering.

  “Is that Neanderthal for you haven’t either, or you have loads of times?” She kissed her way up his neck and whispered in his ear, “Because if you haven’t, I really want to show you why my red panties aren’t as conservative as my white ones.”

  “I haven’t,” he rasped, so hard now he was in serious danger of passing out from lack of blood in his brain.

  She smiled against his skin and tucked a little square packet in his hand before rolling over to the middle of the seat. “Have I mentioned how much I love these seats?”

  He was back to speaking Neanderthal again.

  Because while he’d always loved this car, especially the interior he’d had custom restored, the sight of Abby in nothing but her red lace underwear on the creamy leather seats made his appreciation of the car reach new more reverent heights.

  Wow.

  “You are so beautiful.”

  “So are you. I’ve always thought so.”

  The way she looked at him, hell, he’d imagined nothing could get him to calm down at that point, but that look did. Because it reminded him he wanted to do this right, take it slow, cherish her.

  Then she showed him the nifty ‘all access’ feature of her underwear…

  Aaand, he was back.

  In two seconds flat, condom in place, he was trying out that red lacy feature, inch by slow inch.

  Holy hell. He had to shut his eyes to keep from coming on the spot.

  Abby whimpered and arched and basically did everything possible to make that first gliding stroke completely mind-altering. Hot, wet, and so tight he had to stop for a second to get his bearings; she was all that he’d imagined and more.

  The more being when she took control and slid him to the hilt on her own.

  He’d expected nothing less.

  And he would’ve smiled over it if he weren’t so busy trying not to come.

  Teeth clenched, body fighting his brain something fierce, he started a steady rhythm, a torturous rhythm. He dragged her hands above her, pinned them against the leather seats, and her tight, slick walls began pulsing around him in response.

  Pumping into her harder, faster he buried himself as deep as he could go. Again and again. His breathing rasped against her neck, “Let me feel it again. Drive me crazy, Abby. Come for me.”

  She did.

  His mouth came down on hers hard as she gripped him in a hot, liquid explosion that sent him hurtling over the edge right after her.

  * * * * *

  LATER, MUCH LATER, he realized he must have blacked out there for a minute. Or ten.

  When he somehow managed to regain enough brain ability to shift his weight off of her, she grumbled a sleepy protest and followed him as he rolled onto his back.

  Smiling, he tucked her in against his chest and did his best to ignore the fact that her sweet weight on him was making him hard again.

  Around Abby, his constant arousal was a state of being.

  As was this feeling of never wanting to let her go.

  It had been the same way last night when she’d fallen asleep on him during the movie. Rather than carry her back to her room right away, he’d just held her and dozed off with her for a bit.

  Now here he was again, ready to fall asleep with her in his arms, liking it far more than was sensible.

  The realization didn’t stop him from dropping a kiss onto her hair and closing his eyes.

  He’d worry about letting her go later.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “SO WHAT NORMALLY HAPPENS at the end of the month?”

  Connor sighed. These were not normal questions he usually entertained.

  “I mean, it’s got to be an awkward last day,” pressed Abby. “What do you do? Shake hands and provide a severance package with references?”

  Damn it, looks like it was cold-hearted bastard time again. “Most times, I just leave before they wake up.”

  Abby’s jaw dropped and he could see she was officially offended on behalf of all womankind. “You don’t even leave a note? An email or text message, maybe? A grocery store flower arrangement with a ‘to whom it may concern’ card? Anything?”

  Well, when she put it like that.

  Her brows went up a notch. “Wow, you’re kind of an asshat.”

  He jerked back defensively. “Why? Because I refuse to draw things out and string these women along? I’ve had enough of the post-one-month drama to know how each one of those gestures you just listed could play out. A call or text is always way too awkward because it puts it back on her to reply. And if she does, we’re right back at the start of a vicious loop. Email isn’t all that much better, and actually rather insulting if you ask me. Meanwhile, leaving a note is much, much worse. If I leave a note, then it’s like leaving the hope that this isn’t really goodbye for good, that I want each word I’ve written to be analyzed with the magic relationship decoder ring for the secret hidden message.”

  Oh yeah, he was officially worked up. “And a gift? Are you serious? If I send a gift, hell, that’s the same as saying I’ll be back someday so don’t ever forget me.” He looked her square in the eye. “Why do that to them? At least if I leave without a word, they know that’s it. Door closed. The end.”

  She was expressionless in her silence.

  “Say something,” he grumbled.

  “You’ve obviously given this a lot of thought.”

  “I have!”

  “Everything you said is probably, twistedly more true than not.”

  He’d yet to realign his jaw. She wasn’t getting off that easily.

  “I’m sorry for calling you an asshat.”

  Finally.

  “It’s clear that your logic, though warped and jaded, comes from someplace honest and kind.”

  Aaand, of course. “Do you have any idea how infuriating you can be?”

  She beamed. “Oh c’mon, just because you win an argument doesn’t mean I can’t get in some good blows. What kind of fight would that be?”

  Choosing to hear only the most important part of that, he puffed up his chest in satisfaction. “So you’re admitting I’m right?”

  Her pert little nose went up in the air. “Most certainly not. I’m saying I get why you think you’re right.”

  Laughing, he kissed the tip of her nose and began arming up to go another round when the doorbell rang.

  He ran over and pulled the door open to a less than welcome swirl of Chanel and platinum blonde hair.

  “Hey, babe.” Victoria took off her suit jacket and popped a kiss on his lips. “If I beg really prettily will you give me one of your magic foot rubs tonight? I had a killer day today.”

  She pulled off her designer stilettos one at a time as if they were singlehandedly responsible for all modern torture techniques. “In return, I’ll massage any part of your body you want.”

  Connor jerked back and took a giant step away as he silently guided Victoria’s attention over to Abby on the couch.

  “Oops! I’m sorry, I didn’t know you had company.” Victoria shrugged and grabbed his shoulder to slip her stilettos back on her feet, groaning in her usual, unintentionally triple-X way.

  He threw a worried glance over at Abby, knowing how bad this looked. There was no way she could possibly know that flirting was basically Victoria’s first language, and that between them, proposi
tions involving body parts never actually meant anything.

  It took him a fair amount of restraint not to forcibly shove Victoria’s hand off his shoulder while she was teetering on one ridiculously high heel. Partly, because he didn’t want her tripping over and showing Abby why she didn’t have any panty lines under that skintight suit skirt.

  Not missing a thing, Victoria soon caught wind of his panic and slid a curious smile over at Abby.

  Uh-oh.

  “I’m Victoria, by the way,” she called out, vying for the crown of world’s slowest suit jacket wearer.

  He should’ve let her fall on her ass.

  “I’m Abby,” came the quiet, flat reply from the living room. He shot a quick look back her way, tried to get her to meet his eyes. She wouldn’t.

  Victoria tilted her head to the side. “You look so familiar. Have we met?”

  Connor jumped in on that one. “I highly doubt that. This is my little brother’s friend. She goes to ASU; you two don’t exactly run in the same circles.”

  Abby went stiff.

  Shit, now what’d he do? He’d only been trying to help by cutting off Victoria’s interrogation. But it seemed he somehow made things worse.

  One perfectly arched eyebrow directly at his eye level harassed him without saying a word, told him she wasn’t leaving without at least a little more of an explanation.

  “Abby’s staying here for a bit while the place she’s renting is being renovated.” He followed that up with a pointed glare that shouted, Now LEAVE.

  But that’s when Abby chose to speak up. “Yeah, thank God for good old Connor here. He took pity on a starving college kid and offered to let me crash here.”

  Ooh, this was so not good. There was no way Abby ever used ‘crash’ in that context before. He’d have no choice but to forgive the ‘old’ crack. She was clearly pissed.

  Victoria, on the other hand, looked like she was ready to split a seam laughing. “I see. Well, like I said, I didn’t know Connor had company so I’m sorry for barging in.”