“You make no sense.”
“I don’t want to meet your parents or the rest of the family because then I’ll hope for more. Hope for what I can never have.”
“Which is.”
“A life with you.”
“Fight for us. Fight for me,” he begged.
She nodded. “Please.”
“Please what.”
“Please don’t love me.” She wouldn’t meet his eyes.
“Why?”
“Because I’m not who you think I am.” She stepped back. Oh, how she wanted to be this person. How she wanted to turn back time and erase the only impulsive thing she had ever done.
“Then, introduce me to this side.” He closed the distance she tried to create. “Show me this person you think you are who I can’t see.”
She hated seeing the pain in his eyes but knew the disgust and contempt he would feel would be worse. She also knew it would come out someday, but she selfishly wanted a few more hours or days with him. “I can’t.”
“I can see you want to.”
“But will the truth set me free?” She gave a self-disgusted laugh. “Please just hold off on the family meeting. I need to…”
With his thumb, he forced her chin up so she could meet his gaze. “What do you need?”
“I need to talk to my sister first. I need to get some things absolutely clear.”
“What does your sister have to do with me? With us?”
“Everything.”
“You’re making absolutely no sense.”
“I know, I’m sorry.” She picked up her coat which had fallen to the floor at some point, and turned to the door. “I’m so very sorry for everything.”
“Stay. If not meeting my parents will make you stay, then never meet them,” he bit out angrily. “I haven’t brought a woman home to meet my parents since high school. Not one, because I wasn’t serious enough about them. And now that I am.” He threw his arms up in the air. “She’s telling me there is some deep dark secret she can’t share waiting to tear us apart. But she doesn’t trust me enough to deal with it.”
Breanne opened her mouth to say something then closed it again, tears welling.
“You love me,” he insisted. “I can see it. I feel it. Don’t you dare deny it.”
She nodded and let the tears flow. She had grown to love him. Grown to love the man she spoke to for hours on the phone at night. She loved that he paid attention to details. The little things like that she took her tea with five half-and-halfs. And never once did he comment about it. He simply made sure she had what she wanted. But the big variable in the room, the elephant only she could see, remained her sister.
How could she betray her only family? She needed to talk to Sarah, needed to hear her side of the story before she could possibly explain it to him. She suspected Sarah needed counseling. And what would it do to her mental health to have a sister now dating the man she’d told everyone was marrying her. And would he forgive her for trying to set a trap for him?
He kissed her then, kissed her hard and long. Pushing her back against the wall and forcing her into contact with his hard, aroused body. He was angry, hurt, too, and perhaps the kiss meant to punish, but soon it was soft again. Encouraging her to join in. If nothing else, in this, they could be together as one.
“Tell me you want me to stop.”
“I won’t lie.”
“Then so be it.” He swung her up into his arms with not so much as a grunt. His lips claimed hers again. He walked her through the apartment down to the end of the hall to the room she had never entered. They had agreed that showing her his bedroom would lead to them making love, and neither wanted to rush this. They, until tonight, had been content to take their time, but time seems like a cruel bitch. And the only thing that really mattered was the two of them together.
“Turn off the light,” she asked as he lowered her onto his king-sized bed.
“Why?” he asked, pulling at his tie.
“I don’t want to see. I just want to feel.”
He nodded and did as she asked, bathing them both in peaceful darkness. “I’ll look with my hands and my lips, tonight, but in the morning, I want to see you. All of you.”
They were on equal ground in the dark. She couldn’t see his face and would not have to pretend if he found anything about her unattractive, and he didn’t have to worry about her reading his every facial expression. Her eyes adjusted, not enough to see him clearly, but to make out shapes and silhouettes in the room. She took his lead and removed first her blouse then her skirt. But she left her bra, thong, thigh highs, and heels on. They gave her confidence, even in the dark.
“Condom?” she asked though on the pill, and he had told her he was clean, she wasn’t ready for a baby and certainly didn’t want to trap him into a marriage because of one. She had been the product of one such marriage and never heard the end of it.
“Nightstand drawer. And before you wonder. I got them just in case one night we were ready.” She heard a drawer open.
“Stop worrying. I’ve some in my purse as well, for the same reason.”
The mattress dipped under his weight as he crawled over her. “Does your bra match your panties?”
“Yes.”
He groaned, nibbling on her neck just below her left ear. “What color?”
“Red.”
“Promise me you will wear this very ensemble again. Not that it would remain on you long.” He wrapped an arm around her torso, and with apt fingers, released the hooks from their bars. Her breasts eased free of the constraints. “Since you won’t let me see you, I want you to describe what I’m not seeing.”
“What do you mean?”
“For instance, these.” He cupped one breast and licked her nipple. “What size are your areolas. Dime, nickel, quarter…”
“Quarter.”
“How dark are they?”
“I don’t know. Pink.”
“You see them every day. Yet you are denying me the chance to see them tonight. You need to do better than that.” He took the nipple between his teeth and gave a gentle tug.
She hissed with pleasure. “Dusty pink.”
“So that would be pinkish brown in manspeak?” He chuckled against the underside of her breast.” I adore the freckles scattered across your nose. Do you have them anywhere else?”
“Shoulders.” The words left her as a whisper as she arched into him, his breath warming the side of her breast.
Warm lips caressed her shoulder. “Here?”
“Mmm.” He smelled divine, of citrus and cedar. She gripped his biceps, loving how his muscles clenched under her touch.
“Last question,” he whispered in her ear as his right hand eased her panties over her thighs. Getting up on his knees, he removed the lace. Warm, soft hands ran up her thighs and under her ass cheeks to position his body between her parted thighs. “What color is the patch of hair between your thighs?”
Lifting her hips, she mumbled, “A few shades darker blonde than my head.”
A strong hand gripped the lace of her stockings and lifted her knee over his hip. “Thank you.”
“For?”
“Filling in the gaps. I now have a beautiful image of you in my head.” He kissed her, soft at first. Tasting and testing. Finally building them both up to a fevered frenzy, he entered her with a slow, gentle push forward. Together they gasped, as if the connection was far from only physical and for her it was. This, them together, was a completeness she had never experienced before. He took his time, creating a rhythm for her to follow. Not a hold-on-tight-and-enjoy-the-ride, but a dance with him. Meet him halfway in the waltz.
She gripped his back, moving down to squeeze his tight ass and spur him on. Harder and deeper until they both crashed over the edge of sanity and ecstasy.
As the sun peaked through the bedroom windows, Connor continued to stare up at the ceiling. Brea was cuddled into his side, her leg resting on his thigh. He had what he wanted. Her a
t his side and in his bed, yet all they had shared was all built on quicksand. But then she threw him today by saying it had something to do with her sister. He tried not to talk about Sarah since he had struck a raw nerve within hours of meeting Brea.
Yet, the sister floated above them like a bad cloud.
So he wondered if the issue had less to do with Brea and more to do with the sister. He already suspected she was a liar, and that she refused to meet with Brea cemented that belief. The woman beside him had an uncanny way of reading people. She told him she believed it was because she’d walked a tightrope in her early years and figured out how to avoid negative situations by reading what was written on her parents’ faces. She’d admitted to using it later to ask questions in high school and college about what would and wouldn’t be on her exams. She would be an asset in the negotiation room, for sure.
His phone pinged. He reached for it, careful not to wake Brea. The message notification glowed One New Message: Lance
Lance~ Did you ask her?
Connor~ Yes and no.
Lance~?
Connor took a deep breath. And swiped his answer. Connor~ I asked her to come meet the family. She declined. I decided popping the question needed to wait.
Lance~ Damn. Sorry, man.
Connor~ Me, too.
Lance~ I got the tickets, so make those plans to come down. I need your eyes, too.
Connor~ I doubt I would be any help.
Lance~ Don’t back out on me, now.
Connor smiled. Lance and his search for his mystery woman. Connor~ I will be there. Now, I am going back to sleep.
He shut off his phone and placed it back on the nightstand then turned his head to find her staring up at him. “Everything okay?”
“Fine, Lance bought tickets to the Buffett concert in hopes his Cinderella will be there this year and he’ll find her.”
“Is that likely?”
“Have you never been to one?”
“No,” she admitted, drawing patterns on his chest with her fingers.
“It’s actually very likely. Also possible that she has gone to more this year. But the only thing he remembered was that her phone number had a South Carolina area code.”
“And you are going to help find her?”
“Which will be of no help because I can’t remember what she looks like.”
“So, why go?”
“Because I promised, and he’ll feed me.”
“You and your stomach will get you into trouble one day.”
“Probably, and we didn’t make it to dinner last night.” He rolled over so they were face-to-face.
“But I fed your other appetites.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever stop hungering for you.”
“You believe that, now.” She backed away, pulling the blanket with her.
Groaning, he sat up and ran his fingers through his hair. It was like walking a minefield. If he mentioned any sort of future, even in the sublime, she backed away. But how did someone live in the present when all they could think about was a future? Climbing out of bed, he went for the door. “You can use my shower. I’ll grab one in the guest suite.”
“I don’t want to kick you out of your room.”
“Just your future,” he bit out then wished he hadn’t.
“This was a mistake,” she mumbled, collecting her clothing scattered around the bedroom.
He stood, impotent to do anything. He couldn’t force her to stay. And the harder he gripped onto this relationship, the faster she slipped away. “Take a shower. When you’re done, I’ll have tea ready for you before you go.”
“You’re naked.”
“And that bothers you?”
She nodded and refused to look his way. He stormed across the room, pulled out a pair of athletic pants, and tugged them on. And yet, as frustrated as he was, he closed the bedroom door with extreme care. She’d grown up in a home full of slammed doors and broken dishes. He wouldn’t subject her to that here. No matter that he wanted to slam the door repeatedly.
Twenty minutes later, dressed in what she came in the night before, minus the stockings, she entered the kitchen area. He kept the buffet island between them. “Your tea.”
“Thank you.” She gripped the cup with two hands, not coming any closer. “I thought you were hungry.”
“I lost my appetite.” He didn’t believe that statement had ever crossed his lips before.
“Connor—”
“I need you to deal with your sister,” he interrupted her before she could say more. “You’ve made it clear we have no future until you do so. And my feelings for you are only going to strengthen if we keep seeing one another.”
“Don’t—”
“Don’t talk about feelings?” he demanded, coming around the island. “What did you think was going to happen, Brea? Did you think that we would talk every night for a month, for hours on end, and this wouldn’t happen? That I wouldn’t grow to care for you?”
“I hoped that if we slept together it would—”
“What? Be like giving a dog a bone. Appease me because if I got you in bed then I wouldn’t push for anything else? What kind of an ass do you think I am?”
“I hoped it would be enough.”
“Well, it’s not.”
“I know.” She fought back tears. Not in the I’m-crying-have-sympathy-for-me way, but the god-please-don’t-let-him-see-me-cry way. And it broke him. Wrapping her up in his arms, he let her cry.
Whatever this was, whatever the secret breaking his heart was breaking hers, too, and he couldn’t for the life of him make it worse. “I’ll wait for you to work this out.”
She nodded and then shook her head. Brea stepped out of his embrace and touched his cheeks. “I don’t deserve you.”
“I disagree, but either way, you deserve happiness and this, us, isn’t making you happy.”
“No, this is everything I could ever wish for. But like so many things in life, it’s not always fair.” She picked up her purse from the table. “Perhaps some time apart would be best.”
He nodded because he couldn’t speak over the lump in his throat. He wanted to reach out and shake her, tell her if she wanted him all she had to do was hold on with both hands and he would protect her. Hell, he would protect her sister if that’s what it meant. But, in the end, he walked her to the door and made her escape that much easier. One last glance and she was gone.
Chapter Four
Brea pounded on the door. “Sarah, I know you’re in there, Open up.”
Silence.
This had gone on long enough. For everyone’s sake, she had to deal with the issue, and Sarah needed to as well. “Damn it, Sarah, I’ve been in the parking lot for two hours, I saw you in the window. Now, open the door.”
The door cracked, but only enough for Brea to see half of her sister’s face. “Now really isn’t a good time.”
“I don’t care if it’s a good time or not. Let me in.”
Sarah looked ready to argue but finally opened the door. The room was in complete disarray. “Don’t judge.”
“Don’t judge? Sarah?” The smell was enough to make her gag. She didn’t care that it was thirty-seven degrees out. She threw the curtains back and opened the window. “When was the last time you cleaned or did the dishes?”
Sarah’s bottom lip trembled. “I haven’t been able to function. Not since…”
“Not since?”
“Since he left me,” she finished.
Carefully she asked, “Who?”
“Connor, of course.”
“Can you show me a picture of Connor?” She kept her voice calm and sympathetic. Because she saw no signs of lying on her sister’s face.
Sarah lifted a framed picture that had been placed facedown on the table and handed it over. “I can’t stand to even look at him right now.”
“Are you still working for him?” She already knew the answer, but sometimes she had to get a baseline to know what lies were bei
ng told.
“No. I can’t bear to face him,” she wailed and started to pace, biting her nails.
Her sister was in genuine distress, and she had to figure out how two people could both be telling the truth. Granted, she hadn’t come right out and asked Connor, but if he had left her sister at the altar, he was a better actor than anyone in Hollywood. She looked at the photo. Connor wore a tuxedo and held a champagne glass in his hand. Her sister wearing a red velvet low-cut gown and Christmas earrings smiled up at him. Her body language, the way she turned into him spoke of her feelings. He, on the other hand, was very professional. “Was this your Christmas party?”
“Yeah, the company party. It was where I knew he loved me.”
“He told you here at the party?”
“No. He doesn’t say things like that. It’s all secret between us so no one knows. We didn’t grow up in the kind of world he did. I met his sister once, and she was a total bitch.”
The first part was true, but when she talked about his sister, her mouth formed a sneer, and one side lifted in contempt. “You don’t like the sister much.”
“She wants to keep us apart.” Her sister sounded like a child who didn’t get to play with someone else’s toy. But the shape of things here worried Breanne.
She crossed to the sink and tried to push down her gag reflex at the food molding on plates. She removed the overflowing trash bag from the kitchen can. “How about I spend the day with you helping you clean up, and you agree to see Dr. Etch about your depression. How long has it been since you’ve seen her?”
“She wants me to take pills. I don’t like the pills.” Her sister’s agitation increased. “They make it so I don’t feel anything. And I need to feel the anger.”
“Why?”
“Because he is screwing someone behind my back. He has a whore on the side.”
Breanne paused mid-step, taking the trash to the door. “How do you know?”
“I saw him kissing her a couple of days ago. He thought he was being stealthy, but I caught them, and then last night, I saw them in bed.”
“How could you see them?”
“If you go to the roof of the building across the street, you can see into his bedroom. He turned out the light, but not before I saw him carrying her into his room. Into our bed.” Her sister picked up the photo and threw it across the room.
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