The Connaghers Series Boxed Set

by Joely Sue Burkhart

Rae wrapped both hands around his biceps, pressing closer to him, both seeking protection as well as proclaiming her loyalties. Or was she afraid she might have to hold him back? He looked down at her, letting a slow smile spread across his face. “Darlin’, he’s not worth it.”

  “Do you know who I am?” the man retorted, puffing himself up.

  Hard and grim, Conn knew the predator flashed in his eyes. The man finally realized his family name and wealth meant absolutely nothing at all to him. “Don’t you remember me, Kent? Fifteen years ago I rescued a girl out of your car who wasn’t too happy with your overzealous affections. Even if she hadn’t been my baby sister, I would have given you a beating. As it was…well, you’re lucky to still be breathing. Don’t make me regret my merciful decision.”

  The other man paled, glanced about the room, his hands clenching at his sides.

  “What? Nobody knows the truth about you? You were able to buy them all off? Amazing.” Conn let his voice echo with menace. “Tell him who you are, darlin’.”

  She raised her chin and said, “I’m his.”

  “That’s right.” He lowered his voice to a rumble, and she shivered against his arm, her fingers tightening. “Lay a finger on her and lose it. Ogle her again, and I’ll rip your eyes out of your fucking skull. Now get out of my way.”

  Sweat trickled down the man’s face and he glanced about the restaurant, desperately looking for a buddy to stand up with him. Shaking his head, Conn drew her around the man and walked out without another glance.

  Adrenaline pumped in his veins, sending a throbbing drumbeat straight to his groin that made him grind his teeth with frustration. He’d planned to encourage Rae to test him tonight, but he was so jacked up…

  “Did he really hurt your sister?”

  “Vicki was only fifteen, but she’d blacked his eye and split his lip by the time I tracked them down. We’d taught her how to defend herself well. But she was scared and it took her a long time to go out on dates with guys she didn’t know very well again.” Meeting Rae’s serious eyes gleaming in the parking lot lights, he forced himself to admit the whole story. “I nearly killed him. I dragged him out of the car and laid into him, fists flying. Vicki ended up having to save him from me. Kent’s family tried to cause problems with the local sheriff, but Miss Belle marched downtown and threats of arresting me quickly disappeared. I did go home early, though, and I had the talk of my life with Daddy.”

  “Surely he wasn’t angry with you for protecting your sister.”

  “No, but he wasn’t pleased that I’d lost control. He said there’s two kind of men in this world: men who can control themselves, and men who can’t. Obviously Kent is a man who has absolutely no desire to control himself. He sees something he wants; he takes it. He treats women like dirt because they’re nothing to him but a quick lay in the backseat of his car. Daddy asked did I want to be that kind of man? If not, then I’d better learn to control myself.”

  “There are gray areas,” Rae protested, letting her hands settle on his waist. “I’m glad you taught that man a lesson for hurting your sister.”

  “But he didn’t learn a thing, darlin’, don’t you see? He’s still the same jerk. Dick is the same jerk. They’ll always be jerks. Daddy didn’t believe in gray areas. He would have said be black, or be white, but quit moseying back and forth over the line. If you’re going to cross a line, step over it boldly. Years later, he admitted he was glad I’d beaten that punk within an inch of his life, because if Daddy had caught him hurting his baby girl…Well. A shotgun is simply a waste of lead on a man like Jared Kent.”

  “Your Daddy sounds like…a very hard man.”

  “He was.” Conn smiled with remembrance. “He taught me a hell of lot. Now I’m going to ask if you trust me not to cross the line tonight if I take you home with me.”

  She licked her lips, her gaze dropping to his mouth. “Is this the final exam?”

  “I’m ready for anything you throw at me.”

  “What if I throw myself at you?”

  He drew her into his arms, cradling her against him. God, she felt so small and fragile in his arms. It was all he could do not to crush her between him and the Mustang. “I’ll catch you. Are you really mine, darlin’?”

  She must have heard the catch in his voice, for she gripped him harder, tucking her body tight against him. “I never could refuse you. I’m certainly not going to start now.”

  Cupping her cheek, he tilted her mouth up to his so he could whisper against her lips. “I’m going to take you home with me for awhile, but I swear I’ll take you back to Beulah Land as soon as you ask. I also swear that we will not have sex tonight. It’s too soon. We might practice your safe word a little, if you’re up for it. I need to know what your limits are before we get too committed.”

  He felt her heart thud slow and heavy. Her eyes were dark, her pupils large, liquid and shining like wet ink. She took a deep breath and a tremor shimmered through her. “I’m scared.”

  “That’s exactly why you’re not coming to my bed yet. We’ll go slow and easy, Rae. I swear it.”

  She gave him a little nod, her mouth trembling. Kissing her gently, he helped her into the car, hurried to his seat, and pulled out with a squeal of tires that likely left black marks on the street.

  He’d dreamed of taking her home with him for five long, agonizing years. She might think his final exam would be him trying to get into her pants, but that wouldn’t even be close.

  The hardest thing he’d ever do in his entire life would be allowing her to leave his house once she’d stepped foot inside.

  19

  Dear Dr. Connagher:

  Last night, I let my husband hurt me.

  After leaving you for that very reason, I let him hurt me. Not because I wanted to please him, as I did you. Oh no. With you, it was like a test, a final, and I wanted desperately to pass. You remember that final you gave me, there in your office on your desk, don’t you?

  My reasoning last night went like this: If I really loved Richard, then I would do what he wanted. I would do anything to make him happy.

  But the morning-after Rae whispers that it was merely guilt, because I still dream about you. Deep down, maybe I think that letting him hurt me was only the punishment I deserved.

  He loved it. I cried with my face in the pillow. I felt nothing but pain. I wasn’t even glad he enjoyed it. I just felt used, broken. He didn’t care that it hurt. He didn’t even hold me while I cried.

  At least you held me.

  I thought I understood humiliation that day in your office when you bent me over your desk and heated my backside while I moaned and cried out your name. But I was wrong. Humiliation is knowing you should stand up for yourself, but you don’t. Humiliation is knowing it’s only going to hurt, and you let someone hurt you anyway. You stay, and you stay, and it just goes on and on. That’s humiliation. I’ve got it in spades.

  And the worst part? If he keeps asking me, I’ll probably let him do it again.

  Why? I wish I knew. I wish I could just say no and mean it, and he’d understand that. I wish I’d said no when he asked me to marry him. No, no, no. Why is that so hard?

  What would you have done if I’d told you no that day in your office? If you wanted to hurt me like he did, would I have been able to tell you no? That’s why we’re not together. I’m more afraid of you than Richard, because you…

  I was afraid you would make me want it, and then hurt me. I would have asked you for it. Shit, who am I kidding? I wanted you so badly, I would have begged you to do it again.

  ~ Rae

  She should have known that the English professor would live in a cottage fit for Shakespeare. In the darkening dusk, it was hard to tell the exact scope of the riotous gardens surrounding the house, but the heady scent of late-blooming flowers filled the air. It must be gorgeous in full summer.

  Dogs barked, welcoming the master home. Conn took her hand, his grip firm on her chilly fingers. Like he knew she
might bolt. Stepping into his territory, with no allies like Miss Belle ready to distract him and rescue her, was a limit she wasn’t sure she wanted to explore.

  She had to trust him, and herself. Neither was very reassuring, but the latter was especially troubling. How could she trust herself when she’d left him the first time and married another man? A man she despised, who hurt her, who belittled her?

  “This is Manfred.” Conn stroked the massive head of a chocolate brown elephant of a mastiff. Regal and slow, the dog sniffed her hand, allowing her to pet him. Then he promptly lay down and rolled over for her to scratch his belly. “And this little scallywag is Prometheus.”

  The scruffiest little dog she’d ever seen ran around Conn’s feet, yapping and dancing with excitement. He jumped up and put his front paws on her to lick her face. Tears burned her eyes and she picked him up. He was the happiest, most excited dog she’d ever seen, barking and licking and leaping out of her arms to run around Conn again.

  “He was a stray, just showed up here one day. Manfred adopted him. Make yourself at home while I take them out back.”

  Watching him with his dogs and their devoted adoration for him, she smiled. Dogs knew more than people, and they loved their master. He must take very good care of them. They certainly didn’t cringe away from him or crouch down in fear. Not like her dog had done whenever Richard came home.

  She didn’t like that memory. Another small battle she’d lost in the scope of their marriage.

  She walked deeper into Conn’s domain. The house smelled like leather and old books, a deep visceral reminder of him. A lovely burgundy leather sofa set against the wall, brass nail heads and all, long enough she bet even he could lay on it without his feet hanging off. A sword hung above it, curved steel gleaming. It looked very real and very deadly.

  Hardwood floors, wood chair rails, topped with old-fashioned white-washed plaster. One whole room was dedicated to a gleaming black baby grand piano. Did he play? She wished she knew.

  Books were stacked everywhere. Neat piles, but piles just the same. On the floor, on every table, on shelves lining the walls. Leather-bound, paperback, non-fiction, biographies and collections of letters and correspondence to the latest genre favorites. His reading tastes were wide and varied.

  What would he think of her letters? Lightly, she touched the small purse hanging off her shoulder. They were so…raw. Giving him these letters would be like ripping her heart out and offering it on a plate.

  Yet she’d brought them, as he asked.

  Irritated at herself, she tossed the purse on the counter in the kitchen. Maybe he’d forget to ask for them. Slipping off his coat, she buried her face in the leather. So good. Just smelling him, with all the sensual torment he’d been giving her… She was ready, right here, right now. He could throw her over his shoulder and carry her to bed and she’d probably climax on the way. Shit. Who was she kidding? She could climax now. If he walked in, backed her up against the wall, pressed his hard, impressive body against hers…

  She’d explode.

  Conn came back through the kitchen door, smelling of enthusiastic dogs and honeysuckle. “What do you think?”

  “It’s lovely. Your very own Stratford-upon-Avon.”

  He rolled up his sleeves and washed his hands. Those big, powerful hands, rubbing together, water cascading over his fingers, the cords in his forearms working. She was bad off if watching him wash his hands was erotic.

  “I was going to rent an apartment in Springfield closer to Drury, but Miss Belle offered this place to me as long as I wanted it. When she moved back to the States, she liked having me close. So we made it official, and she ceded me the guesthouse and forty acres early.”

  “She was out of the country?”

  “Miss Belle has led a very colorful life, darlin’. Ask her about her years as an actress when you have a year or two to spend watching old black and whites with her.”

  “Really?” Stunned, Rae could easily imagine Miss Belle as an actress, sweeping grandly through a story on the silver screen. She certainly had the presence and grace to pull it off. “What did she do abroad?”

  “She and Colonel Healy lived in Ireland for years, but I have no idea what they actually did. They knew some very important people, though, and traveled extensively as long as his health allowed. After he passed away, she moved back here. That was about four years ago, I think. I wasn’t sure if I could actually live so close to her without her driving me crazy, but it’s worked out well for us both. I like having someone to take care of, and she likes having me around to attempt to boss around.”

  “Um, about Colonel Healy…” Why was it so hard to say it? “Is he a…ghost?”

  “So she says.” Laughing softly, Conn took her hand and drew her toward the inviting leather couch. He sat down and drew her to stand between his knees, his arms coming around her waist loosely. “I’ve seen some incredibly bizarre things in the past few years, so I tend to believe her.”

  “Like the glass tonight.”

  He nodded. “And the stuck door. But Miss Belle can also lie like you wouldn’t believe. She’ll talk to the Colonel like he’s right there, and only she knows if she’s doing it on purpose to manipulate us or truly speaking to him.”

  He kept his voice light and gentle, but darkness spread in his eyes. Her heart rate accelerated, her pulse jumping frantically in her throat.

  “Now, darlin’, I want you to test me. Put me through my paces. Make me sweat. Torment me. Whatever you want.”

  Startled, she searched his gaze. She’d expected him to press the advantage, to manipulate the situation, using the need he knew must be straining in her. “You’re giving me control?”

  “You’ve always got the control, Rae. Don’t you understand that yet? Until you do, you’re going to be afraid, and I hate seeing that fear in your eyes. The control is yours in everything we do. If you don’t want to do something, tell me. Give me the word. I’ll stop, no questions asked.”

  Swallowing hard, she gripped his shoulders, trying to calm her breathing. She was aroused, true, still hovering on the edge of orgasm, but she was scared too. He knew it, his hands still and gentle on her, his voice soft. But he couldn’t control the need darkening his eyes. Need to dominate her? Or need to touch her? Did it matter?

  “Richard couldn’t take no.”

  “Dick can go fuck himself. I will not whine, wheedle, or browbeat you into anything, darlin’. Your pleasure and safety are my utmost concerns.”

  “What if—” Her mouth was dry, her heart still racing. She licked her lips, fighting the urge to drop her gaze from his. Fought to keep her hands on him, her feet still, instead of backing away. “What if I’m…boring? In bed? I mean, if I don’t want you to…to…”

  “You, boring in bed?” He leaned back against the couch and dropped his hands to his thighs. Knees splayed, body vibrating with tension, he reeked of domination and control, his eyes blazing. “I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you. If you don’t want kinky shit, we don’t do kinky shit. End of story. And I still want you.”

  “I don’t want to disappoint you. I can’t—”

  “You have this image of me controlling your every move, your every thought, bending you to my will alone.” His eyelids were heavy, the grooves in his forehead and down either side of his mouth telling her how serious he was. How turned on. Yet he maintained control of his body, not even touching her. “Demanding and controlling your pleasure, forcing you to pleasure me, tying you up, making you helpless. And yeah, the thought of doing those things to you makes me damned near blow a gasket simply sitting here while I look at you.”

  He shifted a little against the leather, just a subtle movement, but it told her how tightly he reined himself in. His palms gripped his thighs harder, as though he fought with all his will not to haul her into his lap and overwhelm her hesitation.

  “But if you want vanilla missionary then I’ll do that too, just as wildly and passionately, over and
over, as many times as you’ll let me. Because it’s you beneath me, Rae. I love you. I want to please you in every way you desire and half a million you haven’t even thought of yet. I’ll give you exactly what you need, every single time.”

  Closing her eyes, she swayed, shaking, her breathing coming fast and shallow. Imagining him on top of her, crushing her into his bed, his hands on her, his tongue gliding between her lips as hard and deep as his body.

  He leaned forward, still keeping his hands off her, but his breath fanned across her breasts, already hot and tight and aching. His eyes blazed sapphire, shadows hollowing his face into chasms of mystery. “Absolutely anything you need, darlin’. So if you need me to bend you over my desk again, spank your delectable ass as cherry red as your panties, and then make love to you until you can’t walk, then I can and will do that, too.”

  Her nipples were so hard they hurt, brushing against the silk bodice of her dress. Aching hot and clenched so tight a simple stroke of his fingers would send a climax exploding through her, she stood there trembling, trying to remind herself why she had to say no. Why she couldn’t let him put her in such a vulnerable position again. “No.”

  She got the word out. She’d done it. Relief surged inside her. I can tell him no and mean it.

  She refused to let the memory of his big palms sliding over her backside sway her.

  “Good.” Mouth curving in that arrogant, confident smile, he whispered, “Test me, Rae, fully safe in your ability to tell me no. My jeans are staying on tonight no matter what happens. Let me give you any pleasure you desire, as long as it only involves my hands and tongue. No other part of my body will enter yours tonight.”

  “What if I want your jeans off?”

  “Nope, not tonight. You’re testing me, remember? If you get in my pants, I’ll come in your hand in a second. If I take a release tonight, it’ll be ultimate failure. I’m not failing this test, Rae. I’m not failing you. So tell me what you want me to do first.”

  “Take off your shirt.”