“Go?” he repeats the word with a puzzled scowl. “Go where?”
For once he’s not reading my mind. Sipping the water because I know he wants me to I say, “You, as you are right now. He’s just not the same.” Guilt flays me even thinking it. The other Connor is a good man, kind, gentle and he treats me like royalty. It’s my damage that that isn’t enough.
I see the light come on then his expression shuts down to a blank stare. “Is that why you wouldn’t agree to marry him?”
I nod miserably. “I know, it’s crazy, you’re you whichever way you are it’s just….” I spin my hand in the air, hoping it’ll help me make my point somehow. “Everything’s so much clearer with you.”
He nods, his expression turned inwards. “Is that why you made the video? To call me back?”
Shaking my head I say, “I thought that’s what he—what you—wanted. Not the video part, that was my idea, but the plug. Why else would he have it dropped off in a gift box on my front door? Right after telling me to wear something special? More mixed signals, more chaos. It’s exhausting.”
He scowls. “I didn’t send that to you.”
“The other you, I mean.” Confusion, thy name is Connor Edge.
Gripping my shoulders he turns me to face him, his face a thundercloud ready to release a furious storm. “Baily, listen to me carefully. I didn’t send you anything. Neither of us did.”
I blink, truly taken back. “That’s not possible. It was on a box, on my front doorstep. I thought…I thought security had just left it on your orders.”
Slowly, he shakes his head. “It’s not from me.”
I swallow and huddle tighter in the blanket, truly afraid. “Then who sent it?”
Chapter Seven
I hide in the master bathroom while Connor meets with security. Chances are I’ll never be able to look Justin or any of the others in the eye knowing they were told about the butt plug someone delivered to my front door. And that I went ahead and used because I thought it was from my kinky lover. With no idea how much Connor is telling them, I’m afraid the answer might be “everything”.
Which is way more than I can handle.
Connor comes in and sits on the edge of the tub, his expression grim. “There were no signs of an intruder. None of the security teams saw anything out of the ordinary yesterday morning.”
The warm bath water suddenly feels chilly. “Does that mean it was an inside job?”
His lips twitch and I can tell from the sparkle in his eye I’ve amused him. “No, it’s not an inside job. More likely it was someone who is familiar with the estate. I’m going to need you to make up a list of everyone who has been on the property in the past five years.”
My jaw drops. “I can’t remember all those people. There were parties and visits, all sorts of landscaping crews. Your soiree alone had at least two hundred guests. It’ll take forever and I’m sure I’ll miss some people.”
He nods, his gaze focused elsewhere. “I’ll cover anyone here since I took ownership. Concentrate on before then. You’ll have plenty of time on the jet. We’re leaving for Dubai tonight.”
Sitting up, I move to get out of the tub. “I’ll need to pack.”
Connor helps me step out and has a towel ready. “You’re not going anywhere near that cottage tonight, or any time until we’re sure the grounds are clear. I packed a bag for you while I was over there.”
“You did it yourself?” I shiver, having been duped already tonight.
He nods. “I remember how you reacted when he had someone pack for you. Get dressed, we’re going wheels up in an hour.”
My suitcase is open on the bed. Wanting to be fully covered I pull on jeans a tank top and a baggy sweater. Connor watches me like a hawk as I poke through the bag for socks and sneakers.
“I really shouldn’t just leave like this. I don’t even have a passport yet. Plus my grandfather—”
“Baily, he doesn’t know what decade it is. The home has your number, you can call him every day. I promise, as soon as we get back we’ll settle him in over there. And I’ve taken care of your passport.” Gripping my wet hair in his fist he tilts my head back until our gazes lock.
“Connor.” The little wiggle in my voice breaks on his name, betraying my anxiety.
“Keeping you safe is my number one priority. No arguing. Get dressed. I have some calls to make.” Planting a searing kiss on my mouth, he releases my hair and zips up my bag, taking it with him.
After braiding my wet hair, I yank on my socks and tie my sneakers. If I think too much, I’ll have a panic attack and that’s just one more thing Connor will have to deal with.
Opening the door, I step out into the hall. Connor is muttering something into the phone. I hear him say, “That’s it for now,” before hanging up.
Pocketing his phone, he then takes my hand in his and leads me down the stairs and out into the waiting limo. It’s a silent ride to the airport. True to his word, Connor does indeed have a passport for me, the same gawd-awful photo from my driver’s license. I shake my head and put it in my small tote bag that also contains Simon, my cell phone and a bridal magazine.
I pick it out and turn to look at Connor who is on the phone again. “You’re incredibly not-subtle.”
He mouths semantics. I turn away so he can’t see me bite my lip. In his mind, and in mine, we are already united. An actual piece of paper is just semantics. Will the other Connor understand that?
The limo takes us into the city, straight to LaGuardia. Connor escorts me directly onto the jet, much larger than the small plane that took us to the Hamptons. It’d have to be for an overseas flight.
I sit, staring out onto the darkened runway unable to hold a though. Connor speaks with the flight attendant and then disappears into the cockpit.
Drumming my fingers on my knee I wait, trying desperately not to think. Anxiety is making a meal out of my insides. I can’t help but think something awful will happen to Pops while I’m gone.
If I had a dollar for every time I gave you some good advice and you ignored it then got yourself into another “situation” I’d own a private jet too. Snarkarella grumbles.
I’d like to argue with her, say this isn’t my fault. But just like Connor’s domineering side, you can’t reason with her.
Connor sits next to me, taking my hand in his. “It’ll be fine.”
“Do you think the package was sent by the same person that put the bomb in the car?” I ask. The two events are so drastically different it doesn’t seem likely.
“At this point I’m ruling nothing out. Whoever set the bomb had access to the parking garage in the city. The package was left on your doorstep at the Rosemont. Justin’s heading up a full inquiry of my staff, along with ex-employees and he’ll send me the taped interviews.” He taps his phone.
We taxi down the runway and the jet eases into the sky smooth as silk. As the flight levels off the flight attendant waves to Connor who nods in acknowledgement before turning to me. “Do you think you can sleep?”
My nerves are jumping like I ODed on coffee. “Not for a while.”
He reaches into his bag and pulls out Simon. “Then get started on that list for me. I’d like to get it to Justin ASAP.”
“Simon and I will get right to work.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Simon?”
Hefting the tablet, I grin. “Like the know-it-all chipmunk from Alvin and the Chipmunks. He’s who I go to for answers.”
Connor shakes his head, a small smile in place. “You’ve spent too much time alone.”
“Says the well-adjusted Mr. Edge.”
The smile grows wider. “So cheeky.” He sobers and runs the back of his hand down the side of my face. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
I watch him move across the cabin to the small table and set up his own work station. The flight attendant bends and says something to him, but he waves her off. She moves to me. “Would you care for a drink, Ms. Sinclair?”
“We have soda, juice and sparkling water.”
I ask for a virgin screwdriver, orange juice and ginger ale, and settle in with Simon. Working backwards, I did my best to recall everyone I’d hired or consulted with about the grounds at the Rosemont. Other than Greg, I never visited with friends on the estate, preferring to meet them elsewhere.
The words all started to mingle on the tablet and I set it down, intending to close my eyes for a second. The next thing I know, Connor scoops me up and carries me into the bedroom. I reach for him, intending to pull him onto the bed with me but he steps back, shaking his head. “If I fall asleep, I won’t wake up the same.”
I frown and struggle against the soft bed until I’m upright. “What do you mean?”
He sighs and sinks onto the mattress next to me. “Every time I’m in control and I fall asleep, he takes over. And there’s too much at stake right now for the switch.”
“But you can’t just stay awake indefinitely. You’re going to have to sleep sometime.” A sneaking suspicion takes hold and I can’t dismiss it, no matter how hard I try. “This isn’t because of what I said, is it? About me being more comfortable with you?”
He doesn’t say anything and I have my answer.
Way to be a selfish slag. Snarkarella pipes up. Maybe you could ask him to stop eating too, maybe hold his breath until he passes out.
Ignoring her, I roll onto my knees and wrap my arms around his shoulders, pressing my front into his back. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. This is hard enough for you to deal with as it is.”
His hand covers my forearms, holding me to him. “I always want you to be honest with me. I’m still me, Baily, deep inside it’s all there. He hasn’t endured what I have. Losing you would devastate him as much as it would me. You said you wanted all sides of me. Did you mean that?”
At the time I did. I think about it, about the consideration the other Connor shows me. His constant concern for my wellbeing. So what is it that holds me back from saying yes to that Connor when my heart is already committed to this one?
With a sigh, I flop back onto the bed. “I do, I just don’t know how to communicate with him. You. You know what I mean. We’re always tiptoeing around each other. He’s paranoid, thinks you and I are keeping something from him.”
He leans over me, pressing himself against me. “We are though. It’s for his own good, but he doesn’t see it that way.”
“You mean the domination stuff?”
“He wants it too, wants that control but is afraid to take it. So he tries to control you in other ways, instead of trusting you to come to him when you need him.”
I’d thought the same thing myself. “So how do we fix this? Make him understand we aren’t doing anything wrong?”
“We don’t. This is between you and him.”
“Connor,” I plead but he claps a hand over my mouth.
“No. You need to work this out on your own. He thinks I’m violent, unhinged. That I’ll hurt you.
Shaking off his hand I ask, “Why? Why does he think that?”
His expression shuts down though, and he gets up, moves to the door, ending the conversation. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you later.”
Alone in the dark, I think about the frustrating men that I love and pray for a way to unite them.
****
Connor has booked us at the Burj Al Arab hotel. I get my first glimpse of the massive sail shaped structure from the helicopter we take from the airport to the private manmade island. The brilliant white of the hotel’s structure against the picturesque view of the Persian Gulf steals my breath. Simon and I had done some research about the world’s most luxurious hotel but nothing could have prepared me for the experience.
The helicopter lands on top of the hotel and a line of staff eagerly greets us with the Marhaba or welcome in Arabic. Bakhoor, which translates to scented bricks is burning away, perfuming the air from a traditional mabkhara. I’m given a cold towel followed by a squirt of scented rose water, and offered dates along with authentic golden colored Arabic coffee from a dalla.
“I may never leave,” I murmur to Connor.
Our private butler escorts us to the twenty-fifth floor, to one of the two royal suites. I gawk like the country bumpkin I am as he leads us through the grand entrance and into the opulent hall. My sneakers squeak a bit on the marble floors, but our butler kindly pretends not to notice as he reels on about the features like the bath menu, the en-suite electronic system that controls everything from the lights to the curtains, on and on it goes.
Overwhelmed, I move toward the floor to ceiling windows and stare out at the city skyline. After a few murmured words from Connor, our butler discreetly vanishes.
“You okay, Red?” Wrapping me in his arms, he rests his chin on my head. It’s getting dark and I can see the hint of our reflection in the massive window. Me in jeans and sneakers the likes of which I doubt this room has ever seen before and him in a fresh suit.
“Just feeling insecure. All of my research didn’t prepare me for this.”
He turns me to face him and tilts my chin up. It’s a maneuver I’m becoming familiar with, one he does when he wants to make sure I recognize the importance of what he’s saying. “Do you think I don’t belong here?”
“Of course not.” Connor fits right in. It isn’t just his style or money either, it’s his commanding presence, the air of authority that wraps around him like an invisible cloak. He’s important, and not just to me. “You were tailor made for this place.”
Those penetrating blue eyes bore into me, no longer content to just read my thoughts, but determined to influence them as well. “So what does it mean when we both know you belong with me?”
I rest my chin against his chest and let the steady pounding of his heart sooth me. “That I’m supposed to be here too.”
“Good girl.” He strokes my back in a soothing rhythm. “I had the butler prepare a mint bath to help you relax. We’ll dine in tonight, if it’s all right with you.”
“Sounds fantastic.” Standing on my toes I give him a soft kiss. “In case I haven’t said it, thank you.”
He looks surprised. “What for?”
“Everything. Opening up my world, teaching me how to love. The whole enchilada.”
His eyes glimmer in the dimming light. “Have you seen the bedroom yet?”
Slowly, I shake my head, more than willing to follow a change in plan. My faith in his choices is absolute, he knows how to make a good thing better.
Before I realize it, he hefts me over his shoulder and heads for the gold and marble staircase.
“You have got to stop hauling me around like this.” The token protest escapes. I love that he picks me up, carries me around like I weigh nothing at all. Having felt massive for most of my life, his display of strength is a total panty drencher.
One rough hand lands on my backside. “Says who?”
Me for one. Snarkarella intones. This is undignified.
Ignoring her, I scream in mock fright as Connor takes the stairs two at a time.
The master bedroom in the suite is just as over the top as everything else. More mahogany furniture, along with a four-poster rotating canopy bed. Dropping me onto the mattress, Connor attacks my clothes with purpose. Sneakers and socks go flying. He makes short work of my jeans and underwear then goes for his own. I’m still in the tanktop I stripped down to on after the helicopter ride but he doesn’t seem to care as he orders “Hold on to the bedpost with both hands.”
I do, having to bend forward to wrap my fingers around it. The move stretches me out so my chest is pressed against the mattress
His feet still on the floor he bends over me, one of his hands locking both of mine in place. I feel the prod of his cock against my already soaked sex and moan loudly when he shoves into me in one hard, fast thrust.
“Ssshh,” he murmurs, clap
ping his other hand over my mouth. “I’m gonna ride you hard and fast, baby. Hang on.”
And I’m lost as he pistons against me, driving upwards and inside, battering my cunt. My teeth sink into the flesh of his palm, needing him to know exactly how deeply I’m feeling this. Our mating is rough and primal. He’s fierce in his possession of me. It goes on and on, him driving me where we both need to go. Over the edge, past the point of no return.
“Come now,” he whispers. “Come hard around my cock.”
He shoves in so hard that his sac rebounds against my clit. I’m done for the final touch sending me over the edge. Screaming against his hand, I writhe through the orgasm that threatens to annihilate me. Tears leak from my eyes, blinding me with the sheer perfection of the moment.
An instant of heaven, before hell is upon us.
“Oh hell,” Connor pants, yanking out of me, backing away so fast he trips over the pants he didn’t take all the way off. I turn toward him, wondering what the hell just happened. His eyes are wide and full of fear and self-loathing and I know. He flipped back over. Dom Connor is gone, leaving a confused and disjointed Mr. Edge in his place. His seed trickles down the inside of my thigh, over the rainbow of hickeys he put there and he stares at it in horror, before looking up into my face.
“God Baily, did I…?” Words seem to fail him and he swallows before starting again. “Did I just rape you?”
Chapter Eight
“What a waste,” I mutter to Rochelle as I sip from my wineglass. My gaze is on the view from our hotel dining room, the one over the shimmering waters of the gulf. My mind is on the man who hasn’t been near me all week.
“And you can’t tell me exactly what happened?” Stirring her strawberry daiquiri, she studies my face. “What went wrong?”
“It’s a misunderstanding.” The bruises on my thighs have faded to yellow. Sick as it sounds, I’m sorry to see them go, this last reminder of my time with Dom Connor. Mr. Edge has been all work and no play, not even spending five minutes alone in the suite with me after the incident the night we arrived.
Caught Up In You 4: The Point of No Return (Edgeplay) Page 6