Chapter Seventeen
“Maintain the mystery.”
It had been a jerk-ass thing to say. Deliberately so. Bastard that he was.
But he’d been so exposed. Had felt raw. And he’d retaliated. Rejected the intense intimacy that had built between them. He’d had to push back. Push away. He’d left not long after. She hadn’t even been able to look him in the eye.
Regret tasted so bitter. Joe couldn’t spit the taste from his mouth. But it was for the best, right?
He’d have put her off the last lesson for sure. He’d probably never hear from her again. And wasn’t that a good thing? Wasn’t that what he wanted? His space?
It was best for her anyway. She’d be better off without him.
In the end, everyone was. And shit, as piteous as that sounded, it was what worked for him.
But he couldn’t concentrate on work. He’d taken extra classes just to fill in time, to try to exhaust himself, but really he’d only gone through the motions. He hadn’t bothered with dinner. Now, two nights since he left her, still restless, he went to his desk and pulled out the plans for the third gym conversion. Already he’d lined up a space in a city a couple hours away. Time to extend his reach and build his empire. Again it was a warehouse conversion. He liked the rough-hewn industrial vibe. The apartment at the top was identical to the one he had here. It had just the essentials.
All he needed.
…
Abbi clutched the bills in her hand, ready to toss them at the taxi driver. She was not backing off from this crazy plan.
Joe’s throwaway parting words the other night had crushed her. She’d made love to him—wild and frantic and desperately trying to convey with her body just how much she wanted him and liked him and yearned for things she had no business wanting…
But he’d just been treating it as another of her lessons. That she should enjoy being the boss, enjoy extracting her pleasure, that she shouldn’t be afraid of getting red and sweaty during sex, shouldn’t be embarrassed about how she looked when she was with him. And then he’d made the excuse of work, again, and left as quickly as he could.
He hadn’t understood her message at all. And she hadn’t understood the reason he’d pushed her to ride him like that. She’d thought it was because she woke some need in him. That she made him lose control and was asking her to love him. But it had been want, not love.
What a fool she was. Joe didn’t do that kind of emotion. Joe just did escape. Joe just did easy.
Well, fair enough. So would she. That’d be the last thing she learned to master from him.
She gave the guy behind the counter a vague wave and just acted like she knew where she was going. That she was supposed to be there five minutes before the gym closed for the night.
Fake it ’til you make it. She could show her confident face now, right?
And it worked. No one stopped her as she climbed up the stairs to that door marked Private. She knocked on it before she lost her nerve.
She heard sounds of heavy footsteps. Two seconds later, the door swung open.
“I wasn’t expecting you.”
He was barefoot and bare-chested. Only a pair of basketball shorts clothed him. He didn’t appear to have shaved since she last saw him two nights ago. The stubble looked good. The belligerent glint in his eyes, not so much.
“I thought I’d try some of that spontaneity,” she said quickly. Still faking the confidence. “Lesson number two, remember?”
He leaned against the doorjamb. “We’ve checked that one off though, haven’t we?”
“Yes. There’s something else I want to cover.”
“Oh?”
She narrowed her eyes and took in his slight pallor. And at the way he was blocking her from entering his studio. Was he was hoping she’d get the hint and leave? Had he really thought he could end this early? Was that what that shitty parting comment had been about the other night? He wanted out?
Too freaking bad. She wasn’t letting that happen. He wasn’t reneging on their deal. Six lessons. He liked having sex with her. She could see his cock hardening already—the outline pressing against his shorts. So she wasn’t letting him reject her now. She wasn’t going to be destroyed by him.
“Angry sex.”
That glint in his eyes flared, but he shook his head. “I only do fun.”
“No, you don’t. Isn’t sex an escape for you? A release from all that work and no play?” She lifted her chin and dared him with every fiber of her being.
Slowly, not taking his eyes from her, he stepped to the side.
“Why are you angry?” he muttered as she walked in.
“The graphics guy hasn’t got the navigation font right for the app. It’s a delay I can’t afford. All in all it was a frustrating day, so I figure I need a release.” She stepped up to him and challenged him. “So why don’t you show me how a good, hard fuck can make me feel better.”
He looked angry now. He shut the door forcefully behind her.
“You really need this last lesson?” he said. “Isn’t the app almost ready?
She unbuttoned her coat and let it fall to the ground. “I didn’t come here to talk about it.”
Her bra was cut out over the nipples, her panties crotchless. It was the ultimate outfit a woman wanting to be “well-screwed” would wear. And it was the ultimate statement of just how far she’d “come” since they started this.
Angry sex? Hell yes.
She pulled the condom from the waistband of her panties and tossed it at him. “You might want to get ready.” She turned and placed her hands wide on the wall. She didn’t want to look at him in this instant. Couldn’t. But she’d come too far to fall at this final hurdle. “Because I’m ready right now.”
She closed her eyes, unable to believe she’d just said all that. Was doing this. Brazen wasn’t the word.
…
Joe knew he shouldn’t. But he couldn’t help himself. How the hell could he not? And isn’t this what he did? Took what was offered—nothing more. Nothing less.
He stepped forward, his hand already outstretched. She looked so beautiful in all that white-edged black lace.
“This isn’t a good idea.” Why didn’t his voice sound normal? Had he suddenly come down with strep throat?
He didn’t believe the reason she gave for her anger, but there was no denying the energy crackling from her. No denying the way his body was reacting to her presence. She was like a fantasy lifted from the pages of some porno. Only better.
So much better. Shimmering. Pulsing. Real.
“Sure it is,” she said. “I just want to let go. Like you.”
One last time.
He palmed her butt. This outfit? So whorehouse. So killer. He was harder than he’d been in his life. And furious with it. The thought of her pulling this sweet, hot stunt for some other guy?
She was ready. His guts burned.
He was having it now. Her. All of her. He jerked his shorts down and kicked them off as he tore open the condom wrapper with his teeth. He snapped it on and stepped closer. Smoothing his palm over her gorgeous ass, he delved lower to cup her from behind, stroking his middle finger to check her.
He growled. Hot, slick. Sensation rushed. He wanted to do everything all in the one instant—touch, taste, take.
“What are you waiting for?” she goaded.
Suddenly fury ripped through him. He smacked his hands on her thighs, pulling them wider apart, and then lifted her up while bending his knees at the same time. Her fuck-me stilettos made her just tall enough.
He thrust hard. Shocking pleasure rushed over him. So good. Always so damn good. He wrapped his arms right around her, tight. Needing her closer. She bucked back against him, her hips meeting his in a fast rhythm.
He bent his head to her neck, breathed in her scent, her hair a silky mess.
Despite the sharp pleasure, it wasn’t enough.
He hated that her back was to him. That he couldn’t see her
response. He pulled out and spun her to face him, thrusting back inside. He slapped his hands under her butt and lifted her higher. She hooked her legs around his waist. Her head fell back; her lips were reddened, parted. But her eyes were closed.
“Look at me,” he rasped, thrusting hard with each word. “Look at me.”
This didn’t feel right. She was hot, and rubbing against him. But it wasn’t the same. He wanted the woman he’d had the other night. The one who’d made love to him. The one who’d looked at him with more than heat. So much more.
“Abbi, look at me,” he bellowed, fucking her harder. Trying to get deeper.
Her eyes flashed open. Sharp, shining sapphires. Too bright.
“Abbi.” He reached down between them to touch her clit, to send her over, sensing she needed it.
He’d stroked only a couple of times when she closed her eyes with a high-pitched cry. She shut him out even as he felt her milking him. Her actions now were only physical. It wasn’t enough.
But even as he thrust forward, trying to force for more, his own orgasm was ripped from him. He punched the wall at her side in frustration as all his energy was sapped.
He’d never known sex could feel so good.
Yet be so painful.
…
Abbi unhooked her legs from around his waist. Sweat slicked, and now that there was an inch between them, it cooled her quickly.
He straightened and stepped back. Abbi couldn’t look him in the eye. She glanced about, desperate to leave.
Lesson learned. The hard way.
She should have skipped this one. As pleasurable as the sex had been, she’d just put her already-mangled heart through the shredder.
And she hadn’t thought through the consequences of having no clothes with her. Reaching for her coat, she tried to claim back a shred of dignity. “Doesn’t feel as satisfying as I thought it would.”
He just stared at her, like she was someone he didn’t know.
She glanced past him, pulling her belt tight, and saw the table littered with papers. Plans. She stepped closer to get a better look. Plans for another ex-warehouse gym conversion. There was going to be a small apartment on the top floor of his new facility. Just like this one.
“You’ll move in there?” It wasn’t really a question. She saw the name of the place on the corner of the plans, a satellite city a good two hours away.
He nodded. “Install a manager here.”
Their lessons weren’t just over. He was leaving. He wouldn’t be ten minutes away. She wouldn’t have to worry about bumping into him.
The finality of the situation hit her. This so wasn’t what she wanted. Not at all.
Her pitiful heart thumped. This was it, then? This was the good-bye? Despite her hurt, her mind searched for a stalling tactic. She couldn’t help asking. “You coming to the party tomorrow night?”
“No.”
“They’re launching the app,” she added, pretending she hadn’t heard him. “Well, really it’s a glorified party favor, but I’m looking forward to seeing how it goes.”
“I’m sure it’ll be a big success.”
And it would. A lighthearted, fun guide to flirting and having fantastic sex. Not for finding true love. Not for navigating your way through heartbreak.
“I have a meeting to go to,” he added. “So I can’t be there.”
No, he didn’t. He was lying. And Abbi discovered that bout of angry sex had done nothing to lessen her anger. “You’re going to cut me from your life now that the deal is done, aren’t you?”
He said nothing.
“That’s what you do.” She stepped up to him, no longer trying to act cool. Simply unable to. She was too hurt, too angry. She lost it and lashed out. “You walk away and don’t ever look back. The Burns family. Brooke. Basketball. Every lover you’ve ever had. And now me.”
“Abbi,” he said very quietly. “I can’t be what you want.”
“How do you know what I want?” she snapped.
He closed his eyes for a second, his lips pressed tightly together. “You deserve better than what I can give you.”
“Oh please,” she scoffed. “You deserve better than what you let yourself have.”
His eyes flashed open. “What—”
“You run away,” she interrupted. “You run from everything first, don’t you? That way it’s within your control. You reject. You avoid.” She got it now, so clearly. “So you’re not rejected.”
“Maybe I’ve had enough rejection in my life,” he ground out.
But he didn’t deny it.
“You should reach out,” she rashly pressed on despite the fury she saw lighting his eyes. “You should call your sister. Your old team…cutting them out can only hurt. Them and you.”
He shook his head.
Suddenly her heartache wasn’t for herself. But for him. “You could have it all, Joe.” He really, really could. And he should. “Look, I know you don’t want that with me, or anyone yet. But one day you’ll walk past some woman with whom you should have it all. And you won’t be able to. Because you’re still too scared. You run away from anything that might require a real emotional commitment. You’ve been hurt, I get that. But you’re always going to be searching. Always going to be unsatisfied. Because unless you fight you’re never going to find it.”
“You think I didn’t fight? You think I didn’t try my damnedest?” He squared up to her. One naked, angry man.
“Not for this…you just avoid it. Your sister. Your past.” It was such a shame. So needless. “You think ‘everyone is better off’ without you—that’s your line. But the fact is you’re a coward. You’re too scared to let anyone in.”
“Analysis, Dr. Abbi?” he shouted scathingly. “I never wanted you to analyze me. You think you’re so fucking smart? You can’t even sort your own issues out. You’re so insecure you need sex instruction?”
No. She was not going to let him take it out on her and tear her up. “Yeah, I was that insecure.” She swiped away a tear that had spilled. “But now I know that with the right guy, sex can be great. So thanks for helping me. I’m only sorry I can’t help you.”
Because he was the right guy; he was absolutely the right guy for her.
“I don’t want your help,” he snapped. “And I sure as shit don’t want your pity.”
Yeah, there it was. She wasn’t the right woman for him. If she was, he’d know it wasn’t pity she felt. But the kind of concern and caring that only came with love.
He was viciously angry. She could see his fists clenched tightly, shaking down by his sides. But she wasn’t scared for her safety—not physically, anyway.
Ignoring his nudity, he stalked to the door and flung it open. Stood beside it pointedly.
Sick to her stomach, she slowly walked toward it.
“I can’t do this, Abbi,” he said, staring at the floor. “I don’t want this. I don’t want you.”
Chapter Eighteen
“Be spontaneous. Daring.”
For hours and hours Joe couldn’t stop the words replaying in his head. His own stupid lies. The harsh truths Abbi had spat at him. The long-buried memory of his mom.
Better off without me…
That damn cliché was what his mom had said when she’d left him and his sister with the child welfare authority. As an adult, he knew that it had been the frustrated, off-the-cuff comment from a desperate woman who couldn’t cope as a mother. He knew, on one level, that it wasn’t true. Her leaving wasn’t his fault. He was a grown man, for heaven’s sake. But that five-year-old was still buried within him. Still hurt. Still twisting those words so they came from him—that she’d been better off without him.
You deserve better than what you let yourself have…
Abbi’s words haunted him more. She thought he’d been denying himself? Is that what he’d been doing? Didn’t he have it all? Didn’t he have everything he could ever want? Wasn’t he more successful than anyone had ever imagined he could be?
Yes. Yes. Yes.
And yet. There was that underlying fear that pushed him to achieve more and more. Because what if he didn’t achieve? What if he failed?
He couldn’t trust that anyone would still want him if he stuffed up. His own mother hadn’t wanted him whether he screwed up or not. No foster family had either, not for long. His sister hadn’t—not enough to turn to him when she’d most needed help. He hadn’t risked his teammates. He’d made that choice for them.
Same with women.
He hadn’t wanted to hurt them. But it wasn’t all because he was some damn hero. It was because he hadn’t wanted to be hurt.
But he hurt now.
Abbi had been right.
He’d meant to be nothing more than a dumb jock for her. Good for fun and fucking. So easy and achievable, and in the process he’d boost her confidence and play out an old school fantasy.
She wasn’t supposed to rip him open and hold his most deeply buried fear up in front of him. She wasn’t supposed to make him want more from her. She wasn’t supposed to make him want everything he’d sworn he didn’t need.
Yeah, now he realized what he really wanted. Honesty. Emotion. Trust.
Security.
Not financial. But warmth. The comfort of knowing he was loved and cared for and wanted.
By her. Only Abbi.
He wanted to give that to her. Wanted her to turn to him on anything or everything. He hated being shut out.
Sure, he’d fallen for her body—he’d dived right in and feasted on every succulent inch of her flesh. But while her body might have captured his cock, it was her personality that had imprisoned his heart. His head. His whole damn mind was devoted to her, like she was queen of some cult.
And it hurt like fuck. Because he’d pushed her away. He’d turned his back on what she might have offered—because what she’d offered had scared the crap out of him.
Only now did he realize what he’d done.
He stayed in his apartment all the next day, pacing, pretending to do paperwork. But all the while his distress built. He hated himself for being so cruel to her. He stared at his phone. It rang. He didn’t answer. There was only one person he wanted to talk to and she wasn’t calling. She never would.
Taming His Tutor (Entangled Brazen) Page 16