Resisting the Bad Boy (NICE GIRL TO LOVE)

by Duke, Violet

  “That’s not funny,” he bit out.

  “Yeah, my mom doesn’t like that joke either. Whenever I make a crack like that she always scolds me and tells me I should let go of the past. Let go more, period. She seems to think I overcorrected a bit with my life, but I don’t. I like who I am now. If guys call me a goodie-goodie stuck-up tease, so be it. I know who I am.”

  “And who is that, Abby?” asked Connor softly.

  “I’m the nice girl by choice—my wish, my reality.”

  His eyes hardened. “So now I’m the new asshole corrupting that reality.”

  Her brows shot up in alarm. “What?! No!”

  “Is that what the sexual inquisition was about the other day?” Now he sounded downright livid. “All that threesome talk? Is that what you think of me? You think I’m like that monster who tortured you in high school?!”

  “Of course not!” she gasped. “I asked you all that because I was genuinely curious. What happened when I was sixteen wasn’t about the sex, it was about the control. The control I gave up over my own life.” When he looked unconvinced, she grabbed his wrist. “I’m telling you the truth.”

  “Are you?” He pulled away. “You tell me guys basically call you frigid but here you were the other day asking me about every raunchy thing I’ve ever done. I know you weren’t just teasing me, either; you’re just not built like that. So what the hell, Abby? Do you see me the way you saw that guy? Do you feel like you have to turn into a slutty plaything for me? Because it’s not true. Not at all. I’d hate to have any woman be like that for me.”

  “I know that, Connor, I swear. I wasn’t planning on losing myself with you, or for you. All that talk wasn’t specific to you. I’d have had the same questions for any guy whose sexual history differed from mine. In fact, I make sure of it so we both know what we’re getting into. I’m not repeating the mistakes I made back then; I know the difference between identity and fantasy now. Whether or not I like your fantasies, I’m not changing my identity. Not for you or for any man.”

  “Stop talking about being with another man!” he exploded.

  She eyed him warily.

  “What if I’d wanted the threesomes, Abby? What then?”

  “I-I would’ve considered it seriously...and decided if it was something I really wanted.”

  “So consider it now. Humor me.” His scowl was fierce.

  She shoved a ruthless lid on her embarrassment, trying desperately to show she really did want a logical discussion about this. Heck, she’d had it with each of the three other guys she’d dated seriously in the past. Just…in a far more hypothetical manner, since their fantasy sexcapades didn’t come close to Connor’s real life history. “I’d be too jealous to share you with another woman,” she confessed. “So I’d have said no to that right off the bat.”

  A low grunt was his only response.

  “As for you and another guy.” She bit her lip. “I admit the thought of it is a little hot. But…” How was she supposed to explain it? How was she supposed to tell him that she wouldn’t, couldn’t even remotely consider a threesome if true emotions were involved…something that was fast becoming the case with Connor. “I feel like I’d lose the connection of being with you, just the two of us. So no, I wouldn’t want that either.”

  He gave her a measured look before replying gruffly, “I feel the same way.”

  She smiled at his clipped, audibly relieved response. There, that wasn’t so bad. “Then it’s settled—no threesomes. See? Mature and rational. I know when I brought it up the other day we were goofing around but this was what I wanted. This control right here? I gave him this when I was sixteen. That’s what I hated the most about it all. So now I keep that control secured tight. Live by it, rise and fall by it.”

  His expression softened. “That’s what you meant when you said you need the two weeks you asked for? For control?”

  “Yes. Back then, I felt like I didn’t know my own mind, and that the few times I did, I didn’t stand up for what I wanted, good or bad. If I’d wanted to be a slut, I wouldn’t have hated myself so much. But that wasn’t the case. I was weak, every bit the mindless plaything he’d turned me into. Too scared to admit to him what I did and didn’t want, and foolish enough to convince myself that his wants were mine.” She unloaded a long, emotional breath as she reflected on all these tenets of her life that she hadn’t thought about in awhile. “I’m never going back to that. Not in any shape or form. Now, every decision in my life is mine. I take a good look at my wishes, whatever they may be, and work hard to make them my reality. That’s how I came back from all of it, by taking 100% ownership of my life.”

  She slid a hand along his cheek. “And that’s what I’m realizing I should’ve been doing here all along. With us. This past week, I haven’t been totally honest with myself on what I truly want. I hid from it. From you. The truth is, you are most definitely a wish I want to become my reality. Even if it’s only going to be a short reality.”

  That last part made him flinch.

  “I’m entering this with my eyes wide open,” she reassured him. “Telling you my sordid past simply reminded me how being scared to admit to and hold true to what I really want never got me anywhere good. You’re what I want, Connor. What I’ve wanted for a while if I’m being perfectly honest.”

  She felt his heart rate pick up under her palm.

  “Dammit, Abby. You can’t offer yourself up to me on a silver platter after telling me everything you just did.”

  “I know. So that’s why we should just do what we had planned. Eat, talk, and watch a movie. For tonight.”

  “And tomorrow?”

  “I’ll be just like your other one-month women.” She smothered her body’s immediate objection to that statement and held his gaze. “I’m not resisting what I want anymore.”

  The latter half, her body didn’t have any complaints over, seeing as how it was the absolute truth.

  Resisting Connor Sullivan was no longer an option.

  CHAPTER SIX

  AS FAR AS MORNING AFTER big declarations go, Abby decided this one was going fairly smoothly. Probably because they were both on their laptops pretending they weren’t sitting six feet from each other.

  But it was around the third mumbled apology when their hands collided reaching for someone on the table that she started getting pissed. Shoot, if she only had another three weeks with the man, this was not how she was going to spend it.

  She grabbed her phone and started texting.

  >> Were the white panties the only one you saw?

  >> …you know, that day in my lil’ bag-o-fun?

  She kept her eyes down as Connor reached for his beeping phone. A tiny flash of amusement flickered over his features, soon followed by a hint of wariness. Good. She liked him off-kilter.

  Seconds later, he was texting back. Four quick taps.

  >> Yes.

  Pause.

  >> Why?

  She smiled, waiting far longer than she needed to reply.

  >> Because I bought a pair of red ones, too.

  Another pause. And just the slightest gulp.

  >> That’s…interesting. Good for you.

  That’s it? Eyes narrowed, she kicked it up a notch.

  >> Thx. I like ‘em. Mostly because they’re, well…

  She dragged it out. This was too much fun.

  >> less ‘conservative’ than the white pair.

  A choked throat clearing sputtered out from his end of the dining room.

  Excellent.

  >> Plus, it’s not ‘easy access,’ but rather…

  She tapped the second half of the text out, but purposely didn’t put it through. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Connor practically glaring at his phone.

  He broke first.

  >> Rather, WHAT?

  She clicked send.

  >> ALL access.

  “Jesus Christ.” It was a hiss more than anything else and oh, so delicious. Now to go in for th
e kill…

  “I’m wearing them now.” She said it aloud instead of texting it. And saw instant, white hot desire flare up in his eyes.

  An answering rush of heat charged through her.

  “Abby, we don’t have to do this.” The corners of his mouth softened into a look of genuine affection as he studied her from across the table. “I was wrong. We can most definitely be friends. I’ve really enjoyed this past week with you. More than I’d ever imagined possible.”

  “But—”

  “No, just listen. You’re special to me, Abby. I hated hearing you say you were going to be just like my other one-month women.” He held her gaze. “You’ll never be ‘just’ anything. Let alone that.”

  Emotions swelled up out of her chest. Every day in every way Connor just kept getting more irresistible. “You promised me the one month, Connor. I want it.”

  The look in his eyes switched from desire to determination as he walked over to her and held out his hand. “Come outside with me for a bit.”

  Abby looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “What? Now?”

  “Please. I want to show you something.”

  Curiosity overruling her stubbornness, Abby took his outstretched hand and followed him out to the garage. But when he led her over to the second garage door, not the one where he parked his Lexus, she hesitated. “You’re not going to show me some sex dungeon or something in there are you?”

  He chuckled. “No. Nothing like that.”

  Feeling a buzz of excitement unfurl in her stomach over the unfamiliar, almost childlike joy she saw in his eyes, she turned quickly to see what was behind the mystery door, the slow hum of the rising garage door motor resounding like a drumroll.

  “You’re kidding me.”

  Beaming proudly, he circled the gunpowder black car, trailing his hand along the hood. “It’s a 1971 Dodge Charger.”

  Looking at its iconic design, she asked the first thing that popped in her mind. “Like the Dukes of Hazzard car?”

  Another chuckle. “Similar. That was a ’69. This one was the first of the third generation Chargers. A class of its own.” He took another lap around the car before patting the top of it as if to say, ‘good boy.’

  She realized she was still gaping a bit but seeing Connor petting and talking so affectionately about this gritty muscle car was making her brain do cartwheels.

  “Do you like it?”

  The question came out casually, but she could hear the current of emotion filtering around it. This was important to him. A test of sorts. Realizing this, she took a step back and gave his car an honest look.

  Along with a classic, streamlined shape, the car had one of those rugged vented hoods—not quite Fast and the Furious but close. It had character. Quietly powerful. Nostalgically masculine. And sexy as hell with Connor leaning against it.

  Taking a deep breath, she ventured, “Actually, I do like it. I mean I don’t know a lot about cars but I do have memories of my dad and uncle working on this sixties convertible on the weekends when I was a kid. Clearly, they were really bad at it because it was still barely running when they ‘finished’ a few years later. But I remember playing inside it a lot while they were tinkering with the engine.” She smiled and peeked at the interior. “This car reminds me of that one. And though I can’t explain why, it sort of reminds me of you, too.”

  She must’ve answered right, because he rewarded her with a slow smile so luminous, she froze and simply watched it play across his face. Afraid any sudden movements would scare it away.

  “I wasn’t nearly as ambitious as your dad and uncle. I had this professionally restored.”

  The way his voice changed, warmed when he talked about the car made an emotional lump grow in her throat. She’d never heard him speak this way about anyone or anything until now. This was a glimpse at a side of Connor she knew very few—if any—got to see.

  “Tell me about your car, Connor.” Her voice sounded hoarse to her own ears.

  “It’s a pretty recent purchase. I got it a few months ago when I made equity partner.”

  “Interesting midlife car choice,” she teased gently.

  He barked out a laugh. “See, this is why you could never be ‘just’ one my other women. Not one of them would ever call me old. At least not until after I’d ended things with them.”

  “Just imagine what things I’ll say when things are over between us,” she joshed lightly. She’d meant it as a joke but immediately regretted it when some of the light left Connor’s eyes. “Hey, I was kidding.”

  Instead of responding, he asked simply, “You want to go for a ride?”

  Desperately wanting to repair things, she tried again for humor, “Can I drive?”

  Thankfully, his smile returned. “On the way back, I promise.”

  Before he could head over to the driver’s side, however, she caught his arm. “I’m sorry for what I said.”

  “Don’t be.” He looked into her eyes and said softly, “It wasn’t what you said; it was the reminder that our days are numbered. I get sad thinking about it is all.”

  That right there was the exact moment Abby knew…she wasn’t in danger of just getting her heart broken by Connor; she was in danger of losing it to him completely.

  A comfortably silent half hour later, they were headed north with the windows down and the engine rumbling loud and low. All the while, Abby couldn’t stop staring at Connor; he’d never looked so free, so happy.

  So content.

  By the time he pulled over on a deserted gravel road near Cactus Creek, he was a different man. Just a man. No longer a big time corporate attorney.

  “No one even knows I have this car.”

  “Really? Why not? This is kind of a chick magnet.”

  Even his laughter sounded different. More alive. “Not to any of the women I usually date.”

  “Maybe if you showed them the interior…” she suggested, running an appreciative hand along the wide, buttery soft seat that was specifically designed to look, but not be vintage, and also allow her to slide all the way over to Connor if she so desired.

  “A woman after my own heart. The bench seats were a custom install.” He flashed her a wicked grin. “Unlike the original ones, however, these do this—” He reached on his side of the seat and she let out a yelp as the entire front bench seat reclined down flat, lining up with the back seat and in effect, turning the car into a giant bed on wheels.

  She unbuckled her seatbelt and rolled over to him, laughing. “This is so awesomely cheesy. You’ve really never brought a woman riding in this?”

  “Nope. I usually just drive it out here and take a short nap in whatever shade I can find. Some weeks, it’s the most restful sleep I get.”

  “Because you’re free.” It was a statement, not a question.

  He looked up at her, startled. “Is it that obvious?”

  “Only because of the goofy look on your face,” she said as she put her head on his chest.

  His arm came around her and she closed her eyes, listened to the silence of the desert forest surrounding them.

  “It’s funny how you and I have lived such distinctly opposite lives. You see me as a bad boy now but growing up, I was the perfect kid. No bad habits to speak of, 4.3 gpa, and a spot-free room you could feature in a magazine.”

  “And you’re related to Brian how again?”

  He chuckled. “I envied him when we were younger, you know. Not his messy room, of course, but his way of life. He always seemed to go through life with such ease, good at everything but never wanting for anything. All of our father’s expectations for him slid right off him like a magnet on its back.” His voice warmed with brotherly admiration. “Brian was going to be what he was going to be, period.”

  Abby smiled. “He’s still like that.”

  “I’m glad. Unlike my father, I never wanted Brian to lose that.”

  “Why do you two hate him so much?” Her eyes popped open in surprise at the brain leak. �
��Sorry, you don’t have to answer that.”

  “No, it’s okay. I don’t know if Brian hates our father so much as disrespects him as a parent, a feeling that has multiplied infinitely since Skylar was born. I, on the other hand, do hate the man. I have since the fourth grade, from the day I saw him sucking face with some woman who wasn’t my mother, and then coming home to make her feel small for no reason at all later that night. Before that day, I used to work really hard in school to try and gain his approval, to get him to just stop and notice me. For once in my life. But he never did. Brian, my mother, and I simply didn’t register on his radar. We were merely an obligation. If even that. The only thing he cared about was his work, and all those other women he was screwing around with.”

  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. 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 senior partner at Caldwell, Sullivan & Phillips.