Caught Up In You 4: The Point of No Return (Edgeplay)

by Jenna McCormick

  Caught Up In You

  Edgeplay: Part 4

  Jenna McCormick

  Published by Captiva Heart

  A Sanibel Moon Imprint

  Copyright 2012 Jenna McCormick

  Cover image purchased from romancenovelcovers.com

  All rights reserved.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. To obtain permission to excerpt portions of the text, please contact the author at jenna@authorjennamac.com.

  All characters in this book are fiction and figments of the author’s imagination.

  http://www.sanibelmoon.com/

  Caught Up In You 4

  Edgeplay: Part 4

  Jenna McCormick

  The Point of No Return

  Chapter One

  I am in love with two men. Lucky for me they are both willing to share a bed at once. Unfortunately, I never know which of them I’ll wake up with. Will it be Connor Edge, the savvy billionaire or Connor Edge, the dark and tortured protector?

  As I lay on my side with Connor’s arm draped across my waist, I mull over the revelations of last night. It’s not every day a girl gets both a heartbreaking confession and a marriage proposal in the same conversation. Connor had been kidnaped as a child, held against his will for three years. Normal type-A business tycoon Connor had no clue as to who was behind it or where he’d been. That honor went to Connor the Dom. He’s come to the rescue, a vigilant protector, essentially a byproduct of C-PTSD. According to Connor, he’s rarely shown up unless he felt Connor 1.0 is in distress. Until he met me and then Connor 2.0—the paranoid edition—stages a comeback. And as of yesterday, he’s been unwilling to share any of his insight with either of us.

  Discovering all of this wasn’t even the most incredible moment of the night.

  Closing my eyes, I could see him as he’d knelt on the floor, his gorgeous sea blue eyes full of hope, and worry. The firelight cast shadows across his chiseled features, ominous and compelling, just like the man who took my hand in his.

  “I know I’m broken, and I probably have no right to ask. But Bailey, I need you more than my next breath. Marry me, please.”

  The temptation to scream yes at the top of my lungs and drag him to the nearest justice of the peace to do the deed was great. After all, me, the groundskeeper’s granddaughter marrying one of the wealthiest men alive, it’s like Cinderella come to life. Less the fairy godmother and the snazzy shoes.

  I couldn’t just give in, however tempting. Falling in love with Connor, both Connors, wasn’t exactly a choice but this is the rest of my life and ignoring unpleasant realities wouldn’t make it any easier. Both versions of Connor were overly protective, to the point he’d cut me off from the outside world. I’d watched enough Lifetime originals to know that never ended well for the heroine.

  But leaving him hanging wasn’t an option either.

  “Connor, I do love you, don’t doubt that.”

  He’d swallowed visibly and when he spoke his voice sounded thick with emotion. “Is that a no?”

  “That’s an, I need some time. It’s been a long and emotionally exhausting day and you’ve given me a lot to think over. Let’s go to bed.”

  His face lit up like a little boy on Christmas morning. “You’ll stay the night?”

  I couldn’t help but grin back, his enthusiasm for my body bordered on ridiculous and I wouldn’t change it for anything. “Only of you promise to let me get some sleep.”

  He’d risen to his feet and tossed the covers back before holding out a hand. “I promise. I just want to hold you.”

  His hard cock nestled against my backside, belying his claim, but he hadn’t acted on it, instead wrapping his arms around me and burying his face in my hair. I slept soundly for about three hours. By that time the fire had burnt to glowing embers in the grate and eerie shadows coated the room. Or maybe it’s my own unease over what would happen come morning.

  “Baily,” Connor sighs my name, his deep voice filling me with need. Or maybe that’s the erection pressing against my backside. The arms around me tighten, holding me deeper into his warmth.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.” I murmur. Truthfully, I welcome the distraction from my own thoughts. My heart and my head have never been so at odds.

  “You didn’t.” He rolls his hips, pressing that thick length against my bare backside. “Well, not intentionally anyway.”

  Arching into him is pure instinct. I don’t think, just respond to the desire radiating from him like heat from the sun. Savoring his reaction to me is intrinsic. A primal growl rumbles in his chest, masculine, possessive and my sex creams for him.

  The automatic response confuses me. Here I’m worried about having Connor taking away my choices, making decisions for me, yet the more forceful he is in bed, the hotter I burn for him. Maybe I need therapy.

  One hand creeps over my hip, aiming for the juncture of my thighs and I forget everything outside the feel of him touching me so intimately. The first stroke of his rough fingertip over my wet sex lips makes me shiver and grind my ass against him.

  “I like waking up with you next to me like this. Naked, wet and ready.” His hand works inward, expertly fondling my wet flesh.

  I’m losing myself in his touch, responding on a primal level I never knew about until Connor first touched me. His cock slips into my crease, the fullness of my backside surrounding his hot length. He bucks, and I can feel him sliding there, not pressing for more than I’m willing to give, but taking every bit of pleasure he can from my body.

  Two fingers plunge inside me, filling my greedy channel. I clench around them, so close to release I can practically taste it. “Connor,” I exhale on a shuddering breath when his thumb circles my engorged clit.

  In a swift move, Connor withdraws his fingers and clamps my hips in his hands and rolls me so I am lying on top of him. My legs fall open, draping across his parted thighs. His cock pushes up, filling me from below even as his hands find my breasts, cupping the sensitive mounds.

  “Slowly,” he breathes, raising his hips to drive his stiff length into me. The angle is decadent and perfect, with the ridge of his crown bumping against my g-spot. “I want to savor this.”

  I whimper. I am so close and he knows it too, if his husky chuckle is any indication.

  Another slow, deliberate thrust makes my eyes roll back in my head. The sensations are overwhelming, cool air on my wet flesh, his hot staff stirring me. Sheer decadence, a Connor Edge specialty. “You’re killing me.”

  “No, love. I’m pleasuring you. Milking every last bit of ecstasy from this luscious body.” The pads of his thumbs graze my nipples, sending a jolt straight to my clit. My hand slides down my body, halfway to working the bundle of nerves before I think better of it.

  “Why did you stop?” Of course he picks up on my intentions.

  Despite my current position, with him wedged deeply inside me, I blush. It’s the middle of the night and he can’t see my face yet the thought of him knowing what I intended to do embarrasses me. The last thing I want is for Connor to think he’s not getting the job done. “Sorry.”

  His hand leaves my breast and finds mine, brings it to his mouth. “What for? I want you to take your pleasure. Do you know how hot that makes me?” He spreads me wider,
drives deeper even as he sucks my index and middle finger between his lips.

  “Rub that sweet little clit.” Guiding my hand between my legs, he waits for me to start.

  I feel obscene, like I’m being filmed for some low budget porno flick. It’s just the two of us here though and Connor genuinely wants this. Could I really deny him when I want it too?

  “Yesss.” The word comes out as a hiss when my fingers accidently bump the root of his thrusting shaft.

  Connor’s dirty talk knows no shame, his pursuit of pleasure endless. “I can feel you tensing up around me. Your hot little cunt is gripping me tighter, like you want to make sure I stay in you. I can barely move. How does that feel?”

  “Incredible.” With his hardness filling me, his rough hands working my breasts and mine on my hot button all my bases are covered. I could never achieve this on my own, and would be too embarrassed to ask him for it. He knows me so well, understands my needs, my limits and just how to push me to the brink.

  His lips press against my ear, tongue flicking out to toy with the lobe. “Come on me now. Hug my cock with your wet little pussy, bring me with you.”

  All the different lines of sensation—his words, the feel of him thrusting inside me, kneading my breasts and my own busy fingers—all points of contact angle upward forming a pyramid, the pinnacle of which sends me flying.

  Distantly, I feel him groan, his satisfaction apparent in the hot fluid bathing my still clenching channel. Satisfaction radiates from my every pore. I’d done it and he’d loved it.

  He rolls me off him gently, then pulls me to him. Laying my head on his chest, I fall asleep with the steady thrum of his heartbeat in my ear, the feel of his hand caressing my naked back.

  My last thought before I knock out completely is a question.

  Would it really be so bad to start every day like this?

  ****

  The next time I wake up, daylight peeps around heavy blue curtains. The fire died out a while ago and the bed next to me is empty.

  I’m so used to mornings in my cottage, where the kitchen with the glory of the coffeepot is only a few steps away. But here at Connor’s there are stairs obstructing my progress to the elixir of life. Or at least intelligent life. Stairs could mean big injuries. No one should be forced to deal with something so dangerous without an ounce of java in hand.

  Perhaps a shower is in order. Something else to help me pry both eyes open and at the same time wash away the telltale evidence of my late night activities. Hopping out of bed I head to the bathroom when the alarm on my phone goes off.

  Shoot, my pill. They were back at my cottage, where I normally was this time of day.

  My OB/Gyn instructed I take my pill at the same time every day. I don’t want to just walk of shame it across the lawn without a word to Connor, but the longer I dawdle here looking for him, the more likely I will forget about the pill. My being on birth control is a major issue for him.

  Forgoing the shower for a quick sponge bath, I yank my clothes from yesterday out of the hamper, redressed and dashed out into the hall where I ran smack dab into Rochelle.

  “Just the girl I was coming to see. I have something for you”

  Puzzled, I look down at the flat, rectangular box in her hands, about the size of a shirt box. An eyebrow goes up in surprise that she’d got me something. We’d only met yesterday. “For me?”

  She grinns at me. “I didn’t say it’s from me. Connor left it for you.”

  “That makes much more sense.” I laugh and take the wrapped box from her. “I have to run home, but I’ll be back in a few.”

  “Want some company? It’s too quiet here with Connor gone.”

  I trip, just catching the railing to prevent myself from falling down those blasted stairs. “Connor left?” Hurt wells that he hadn’t said goodbye.

  “Your face is like an open book and not a mystery either. Doll, you can’t show your entire hand of cards like that, the world will chew you up and spit you out. I’m surprised Connor hasn’t eaten you alive.” Rochelle shakes her head as a wicked grin steals over her features. “Then again—”

  I blush at her lewd implication, more because she’s right and I’m embarrassed and she laughs again. We descend the stairs and she shuts the front door behind us.

  The grounds are deserted and I can’t help scanning the landscaping checking to see if the flowerbeds have been winterized yet. I’m halfway through and tabulating a mental list of what needs to be done when I remember it is no longer my job.

  “How serious is it between you two, anyway?” Rochelle asks.

  “He asked me to marry him.” As soon as the words are out I want to call them back. If I wasn’t holding the box I’d clap a hand over my mouth. I don’t want to tell anyone until I make up my mind about how to answer Connor.

  Rochelle makes a high pitch squealing sound and literally clicks her heels together. “That’s incredible! Oh Baily, I’m so happy for the two of you!” She spins in a circle on the open lawn.

  “Wow. Um, not to rain on your parade, Rochelle, but I haven’t said yes yet.”

  I expect her movie poster beautiful face to fall but the grin stays firmly in place. “That’s almost incidental. Just the fact that he’d ask, that he’s so smitten with you that he’d break his bachelor vow is an enormous deal.”

  “He took a vow to stay single?” The air is cool and the grass laced with frost. I shiver but it has nothing to do with the cold. “When was that?”

  “Not sure really. Before we met, definitely. But it doesn’t matter now because he’s seen the light and he wants to be with you. If there’s hope for Connor Edge, there’s hope for all of us.”

  Her enthusiasm is infectious and I find myself grinning. “Oh there’s definitely hope.”

  We walk in silence down the knoll toward my cottage, both lost in our own thoughts.

  “How charming,” Rochelle breathes, genuinely taken by my little stone abode. Coming from someone with her financial resources the words could sound condescending, but the way she reaches out to touch the house in completely sincere.

  “It’s my favorite spot in the entire world. Would you like to come in?”

  Setting the box down on the table, I make a beeline for my purse. “Want some coffee?”

  “Is the Pope Catholic?” She’s asks, moving closer to the fireplace. “God, Baily, I love the feel of this place. There’s so much history here.”

  I fill a glass with water and swallow the pill before moving to the coffee pot. “Are you a history buff?”

  “Yes and no. I’m no historian, but I like the look and feel of old things, imaging different ways of life. My role I just finished was a period piece. Think Lawrence of Arabia meets Romancing the Stone.”

  My phone beeps again, probably another reminder notice. I scoop the grounds into a filter and fill the pot. “Sounds exciting. Where were you filming?”

  “The UAE.” At my blank look she grins. “The United Arab Emirates. Dubai is one of my favorite cities. You should get Connor to bring you.”

  Considering Connor wouldn’t even let me leave the Rosemont without an armed escort, I highly doubt a trip to Dubai is feasible. “I’ll mention it to him.”

  “Seriously. It would be fab. I’m going back for a spell, just to enjoy after postproduction wraps. You could meet Lola. Have him bring you when he comes next week. We could double date and the tabloids would eat it up, him, out with three women, like his own harem.”

  This time I hide my hurt that Connor’s planning another trip Rochelle knows about and I don’t. We need to spend less time shagging and more time talking. “Your girlfriend’s name is Lola?”

  “She was a showgirl, with yellow feathers in her hair and a dress cut down to there…,” Rochelle sings. “Seriously, she used to be a showgirl. In Vegas though, not the Copacabana. Don’t even mention Barry Manilow in front of her. I learned that the hard way.”

  She’s too much. “I’ll try to restrain myself.”
>
  The coffee finishes and I pour us each a mug and set it down on the kitchen table before deciding to go on a little fishing expedition. “So what is Connor doing in Dubai?”

  Rochelle shrugged. “Business guy stuff. He has a building in the city that he uses for home base with all of his eastern hemisphere projects. You’ll have to ask him for anything more specific than that. Not what I’ll be doing, which is shopping. They have this killer mall….”

  I listen while Rochelle waxes poetically about the Dubai mall, apparently the mecca for shopaholics worldwide. Though I try to pay attention my mind keeps wandering back to Connor. The phone beeps again and I reach for it, think it’s the alarm.

  Two new text messages have come in, both from Connor.

  The first Sorry to run off, I have a meeting with the DOD I can’t miss. Call me when you open your present.

  The second, Last night was amazing. XOXO.

  “You should see your face.” Rochelle sighed. “I may have the showgirl but you’re the one who fell in love.”

  I may have only just met her, but I desperately need someone to talk to. And she already knows about Connor’s affliction. “Can I trust that anything I say to you will stay between us?”

  Rochelle sobers. “Is it about his issues?”

  I nod. “That’s a good name for it. You know what he’s dealing with. I want to be with him, help him, but he’s so possessive of me already. I don’t want to just sit here all the time, waiting for him to get back from all these exciting places. I have my own dreams and he won’t even discuss them with me. Is that any way to start a committed relationship?”

  I expected her to mull it over a moment but her answer is immediate. “Fuck no. What is he not letting you do?”

  “I want to go back to nursing school. I could register now and start up again in January. But ever since the car bombing, Connor has me under guard here.”

  Rochelle nods slowly. “He’s afraid for you, afraid you’ll be hurt because of him. But that’s no reason to stop living your life. He can’t ask something from you he’s unwilling to cede himself. My advice, for what it’s worth. Register for your classes and let him deal with the fallout. You tried to talk to him about it, right? So it won’t come as a total shock and he’s a butthead for not listening in the first place. Draw a line in the sand and make him cross to you. Let him know right now how it’s going to be between the two of you, that you won’t let him brush you off or bully you. If he wants you—which I know he does—he’ll bend. Just because you’re thinking about taking on his boatload of issues doesn’t mean you’re willing to do sacrifice your own ambitions for him.”