Destination Connelly (The Colloway Brothers Book 4)

by K. L. Kreig

  “All right, I’ll bite,” I reply in amusement after finishing the last of my Pinot Grigio. This is the most fun I’ve had in weeks. Who knew it would be so easy to get under her skin? “What, pray tell, are my too-lofty goals?”

  This time, she turns fully toward Connelly and waves. You know, the kind of head-slapping, nauseating wave that high school girls do where they scrunch up their shoulders and wiggle their fingers like the rest of their arm doesn’t function properly?

  Yeah, that one.

  He acknowledges her with a slight dip of his head but does a poor job of hiding his irritation. I smile inwardly. Or I guess it’s outwardly, because when the childish display is over and my attention swings back to Jeanine, I think my throat would be ripped out by now if she were a vampire. Lucky for me, she’s not. But just in case, I’ll be stopping at the corner market on the way back to my hotel to pick up a garlic string.

  “He’s undeniably hot, but he’s a once-and-dump kinda guy.”

  Despite my best efforts, my jaw clenches and my quick temper flares. I take a couple of deep breaths, trying to drive away the red mist that just showered me in deadly thoughts. Thoughts that will get me hard prison time in an unflattering orange jumper if acted upon. And no matter what they say, orange is not the new black. But I’ve gotta be honest, I’m having a very difficult time because it never occurred to me until right now that Connelly’s maybe wet his dick with most of his staff as well. And although I can’t imagine him with the likes of her, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised either.

  “And who exactly are we gossiping about now?” I finally manage to ask, proud of the way I controlled my voice. And my fists, because I’m feeling all kinds of violent right now, despite the fact I have not a violent bone in my body.

  “Don’t play coy, Nora. He may be interested in you because you’re the new pretty little plaything, but I guarantee you Connelly Colloway, CEO and playboy extraordinaire, is not marriage material. But if you’re looking for a great fuck for the evening you couldn’t pick a finer, well-bred male specimen.”

  “Sounds like you have firsthand knowledge,” I fire back. The words feel hot as pokers on my tongue.

  Her slow, malicious smile is nothing short of victorious. After luring me smack dab into the center of her minefield, I took that final fatal step myself and felt the explosion rattle my entire body. The shrapnel lodged itself deep in my soul—I feel each agonizing slice keenly.

  Why does it seem as though I need these painful reminders of why I should stay far, far away from the only man I’ve ever allowed myself to love?

  Because you’re a slow fucking learner, Nora.

  “Best I’ve ever had.” She winks, then leaves me standing alone, watching her generous ass sway in her too short, highly unprofessional, almost see-through white dress.

  That bitch. I was played. I knew it and I let her do it to me anyway.

  I don’t want to look at him, but my head turns of its own accord anyway. Connelly’s gaze is darting between Jeanine and me. He’s now not even trying to hide behind his cool demeanor. His jaw is tight, he’s grinding his teeth, and his eyes have gone slate hard.

  Ignoring him, I make my way through the crowd, back to the bar. “Whiskey, neat. Make it a double. Hell. Might as well leave the whole damn bottle.”

  The cute young bartender—Chad, according to his name tag—quirks a smile. I’m sure he’s heard this a thousand times before. “Bad day?”

  “You could say that.”

  “Work or relationship?”

  “What makes you think either?”

  “There are only three problems that drive people to ask for a bottle full of liquid painkillers. Work. Relationships. Or money.”

  “What makes you think it’s not money then?”

  “I’m observant.” He chuckles, which lightens some of my anxiety. I smile. Nodding to the wall behind him, he asks, “Any preference on brand?”

  My eyes float over the bottles of mind erasers stacked behind Chad just waiting to be consumed. I don’t drink whiskey that often, and it all tastes like gasoline to me anyway, so I ask, “It’s all covered by Wynn, right?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He winks conspiratorially.

  “Then I’ll take the most expensive one you have.”

  I feel his body heat blanket me right before his husky voice rumbles in my ear, “Get the lady a Scotch, Chad. The Dalmore 25 year.” By his light chuckle, he doesn’t miss the shiver that works its way from the top of my head down the length of my spine, slowing to a leisurely stop in the center of my core where it settles, firing up that slow burn.

  Chad nods, ignoring me now that the big man with the black Amex is here giving orders.

  Bastard. Damn him and that unspoken guy code.

  “I don’t like Scotch,” I snip. I don’t face Connelly, keeping my eyes straight ahead on the bottle Chad just pulled from under the bar. It has a beautiful twelve-point bull splayed across the front and dark amber liquid sloshing inside. By the looks of it, a glass of the undoubtedly expensive malt has already been poured. One guess as to who’s drinking it.

  “Scotch is whiskey, babe.”

  Oh. Well. Who the hell knew that?

  Connelly hasn’t moved, his warm breath caressing my right cheek with each exhale. One-half step back and we’ll be melded together, back to front. It’s intimate and highly inappropriate for a business setting. But even through my hurt, I have to fight to keep from leaning back into the comfort of his broad, muscular frame anyway. His left hand meets the bar top, all but caging me in, his thumb intentionally brushing over my pinky.

  Back and forth.

  Back and forth.

  Every hypnotic stroke sends a fresh flood of desire buzzing through my veins.

  I should be pushing him away, yet all I can think of is pulling him closer. His touch lays me bare, opens my insides, strips me empty of all thought and reason. Just like this afternoon, until my self-preservation instincts kicked in and I fled.

  “I’m not your babe,” I reply belatedly. I take a healthy drink from the glass that Chad sets in front me. He’s now shoving warm bottles of beer into a cooler of ice, trying not to pay attention to the scene about to unfold right in front of him. Try harder, Chad. You’re not fooling anyone.

  “By the way, I thought I should clear up the fact that I don’t have any children,” he whispers seductively.

  My eyelids suddenly feel heavy and fall shut. I need to get the fuck out of this situation. I turn toward Connelly, placing my elbows on the wood surface behind me, leaning back. He doesn’t move an inch. “You’re in my space.”

  “Your space?” A smile plays at a corner of his mouth. I want to slap it off as much as I want to kiss him stupid. I look around the room to see that we’re attracting more attention than I’m comfortable with, including that of his brothers and the slut in the white dress who’s now looking a little green around the gills.

  My inner bitch smiles at that, but I keep my outside cold, because if I don’t I won’t get out of this encounter with an unscathed heart or ego.

  I tilt my head up and look Connelly hard in the eye. “Yes. My space. My personal space.”

  “Personal space?” He laughs low and deep, the sound rolling lazily over me, making me dizzy. And wet.

  He fucked Jeanine. And countless others. Remember that.

  “Yes. My personal space,” I punctuate each word, trying not to raise my voice and draw even more eyes to us.

  But Connelly clearly doesn’t care that he’s unprofessionally draped over one of his new employees. He leans closer, eyes dancing with mirth and challenge. “And what is that exactly?”

  “God. Are you obtuse? That space that’s…personal. You. Are. In. It.”

  His panty-wetting smile is charming and enthralling and I can see why women crawl on their knees for one night alone with him. Hell, I’m about to drop this second and unzip him in front of everyone, damn the consequences.

  “For a woman who’s so
intelligent, Nora, you’re not being very articulate right now.”

  Gah…

  He moves back slightly but, as if in challenge, stays just on the edge of my little comfort bubble. I feel like I can breathe for the first time in five minutes. They may be shallow breaths, but air is air.

  Taking a sip of his cocktail, he watches me intently before saying, “You know there’s a clause in the employment agreement against theft of company property.”

  Huh? “Did someone pilfer a Bic after today’s meeting?” I raise a confrontational brow.

  “No.” His voice hardens. “Someone’s trying to pilfer something much more valuable than a fucking pen.”

  My lips turn up. I have no idea what the hell he’s going on about. “A pack of Post-it notes or a gold-plated paper clip perhaps?”

  “I don’t give a shit about office supplies, Nora.”

  “I have no idea where you’re going with this annoying conversation, Connelly.”

  “Oh, I think you do. But I’ll spell it out for you so we’re both singing from the same songbook here. It’s you, princess. I’m talking about you.”

  I laugh in total disbelief, shaking my head. “Me? You bought my uncle’s business, so I’m considered company property now?”

  He cocks his head. It should look arrogant and haughty, but on him, it’s sexy as fuck. “You belong with me, and I own the company, so in a way…yes.”

  I take that back. Arrogant and haughty are the perfect adjectives to describe his egotistical ass. Oh, and domineering, pretentious, smug. I really could go on and on.

  “Oh my God. You are absolutely delusional.”

  Leaning in, he sets his empty glass on the counter right behind me and whispers in my ear, “Au contraire, princess. I’m thinking clearly for the first time since the night you gave me your virginity. Fuck, I can still feel you writhing under me as I rocked into you, Nora. I still feel your breath on my neck as you told me you loved me. Over and over again. And I cannot get the taste of your silky release out of my mouth.”

  Mother of all things dirty.

  Pure lust warms my body like an electric blanket on high. I swallow hard and will the pace of my heart to slow. When I speak, my voice cracks with the longing I want to subdue but can’t. “Connelly…stop it. This is not the place.”

  “What did Jeanine say to upset you, baby?” His voice lowers with concern, all playfulness evaporated like morning dew in the hot sun. What vanished along with it was my lust at the mention of that bitch’s name.

  Turning my head, I throw back the rest of my overpriced Scotch, relishing the fumes now burning my nose and esophagus, before slamming the heavy crystal a little too hard on the bar.

  “What’s the matter? Worried your reputation preceded you? Well, that ship has already sailed, Connelly. That happened eleven years ago, and I should have done myself a huge favor and listened then.”

  He straightens, taking a step back. His hand drops to his side, leaving cold in its wake where it had been touching my arm only moments ago. I’m pissed at myself that I want it back. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he says, his voice tight. And is it guilt or feigned confusion now creasing his thick brows?

  “Everything okay here?” A throaty male voice interrupts. Fantastic, the “company pilferer” couldn’t have worse timing.

  “This is a private conversation,” Connelly grits through clenched teeth, not even bothering to look at our party crasher.

  I glance over Connelly’s shoulder to see Brad tower several inches above him, looking all protective like a papa bear. Connelly’s broad and fit and undoubtedly ripped underneath his dapper suit, but he played basketball while Brad ate running backs for lunch. You do the math.

  “I’d like to hear from Nora if you don’t mind.”

  Connelly slowly pivots so he’s facing Brad. I don’t miss the fact that, even through his loose dress shirt, his muscles are rippling in an effort to contain his irritation. When he speaks, it’s with such a sharp edge, I’m surprised to find Brad’s not bleeding out from the verbal blade. “I do mind. Excuse us.”

  Steely fingers wrap above my elbow. Connelly pulls me to his side, weaving us through the room to a back staircase leading up to another floor, which is closed off with a purple velvet rope. But that doesn’t stop him from trespassing anyway, ushering me up to the dark space with his hand still firmly around my arm.

  “Jesus, Connelly, have you lost your damn mind?” I spit when we’ve reached the last step. Yanking loose from his grip, I pace to the other side of the very small room. It looks to be another entertainment area. For VIPs, perhaps. Through the blackness, I can tell furniture lines the walls, but I don’t stop to take inventory.

  “What the hell is everyone going to think?” I practically screech, leaning against the far side wall for support. “That you’ve dragged your new pet back here to fuck her?”

  “Nora, stop,” he scolds, stalking toward me slowly as if I’m some rabid animal that will attack if he moves too fast. He couldn’t be more right. I want to hurt him like he’s hurt me. Tenfold.

  “Is that what happened with Jeanine?” I rant, unable to keep the suffocating pain from leaking out. It needs a place to go besides just sitting in my gut, rotting my insides, making me hemorrhage with a heartbreaking ache I have no right to feel but do anyway. “Did you drag her into the storage room at a corporate get-together and fuck her brains out before returning to brag about your latest conquest to your executive buddies?”

  “That’s enough,” he growls, as each step brings him closer.

  Backlight spills golden rays around his tall, broad form, making him look like a dark angel of temptation rising directly from the fires of the underworld. He’s so damn alluring, even this deep hurt I have inside me can’t squelch my unerring want for him.

  I hate myself for being so weak.

  Needing to keep our distance, I back into the shadows as he moves toward me, stopping only when the back of my knees hit the edge of smooth leather. “Did she scream your name and pull your hair as you went down on her or was her mouth too full with your cock to talk, because I gotta tell you…if it were me, I’d do anything to shut her the fuck up.”

  “Don’t say another word, princess.”

  Adrenaline flows hot as lava through me, fueling me on. My chest heaves and my stomach churns with the agony ripping through me at the thought of him with her. With the others.

  I’ve been with a total of five men since we parted ways, yet if bed hopping were an Olympic sport, he’d have a dozen gold medals displayed proudly around his neck by now.

  I hurt so much I can barely breathe.

  “You’re not denying it,” I continue unfazed, trying not to fall apart completely. “So it must be true.”

  He’s now right in front of me, legs spread on either side of mine. As I try to get away, I move backward but forget I’m trapped against something. Instead of making my escape I fall over the arm and onto my back, landing on a soft buttery surface.

  In a flash, Connelly takes advantage and is looming over me, strong arms pinning mine down on either side of my head, powerful thighs caging me. The hardness in his groin presses into my core, making me pathetic and needy. My pulse thunders like bongo drums in my ears, partly out of anger, partly out of desire.

  Why do I have to want him so much?

  “I’m just going to say this once, so listen closely. I didn’t fuck Jeanine in any way, shape, or form, and I wouldn’t get my double-wrapped dick within ten feet of her so if that’s what she told you, then she a lying, conniving bitch.”

  His nose is less than an inch from mine, our ragged breaths sparring.

  “Are you sure? Maybe you just don’t remember. There have been so many, I imagine it’s hard to keep them all straight.”

  He ignores my low blow, a slow grin spreading his sensual lips. “That look suits you, princess.”

  “What look is that? Animosity?” I spit, wishing I hated his pet name for me, bu
t I don’t. God, I love it.

  “Jealousy.”

  “I am not jealous,” I huff, trying not to blink or look away as the lie trickles out. I think I almost manage to fool myself, but not Connelly. Even in the dark I can’t hide from him.

  “Again with the lies, princess. If you weren’t jealous, you wouldn’t give a shit if I’d fucked Jeanine.” I scoff at that, wishing it sounded more convincing. “Now it’s your turn.”

  “What’s my turn?”

  “To tell me you didn’t fuck the Florida gator.”

  “You’re cutting off my circulation.” I squirm to get free, but Connelly knows exactly what I’m doing and his fingers clamp tighter. I wish I could tell you that his body blanketing mine didn’t make me feel safe and cherished and at peace for the first time in over a decade, but you’d see right through that bullshit, just like Connelly would.

  “Tell. Me.”

  I want to tell him that it was all his doing. That I only slept with Brad because, even though I had no right, I was jealous when I saw pictures of him and perfect Buxom Barbie. I want to tell him that had he kept his dick in his pants all those years ago we may be living a very different life, together. But I don’t. I don’t say any of those things, turning my head away from his intense stare instead.

  “I’m going to fucking kill him,” he growls, lowering his hot mouth to my now-exposed throat like he had an open invitation.

  But do I stop him? No.

  Do I encourage him? Shamefully, yes.

  “You belong with me, Nora. Me,” he declares between openmouthed kisses and possessive nips. When he grinds his pelvis into my sex, I moan his name, shifting my hips upward with every downward thrust of his.

  “I know it makes me a hypocrite, but I hate the thought of his hands on you,” he rasps gruffly. His hands travel down my sides, thumbs grazing my painfully erect nipples on their descent. “It makes me fucking crazy with jealousy, and I haven’t experienced jealousy since high school.”

  I have. With every smile you gifted another woman or possessive arm wound about her waist.

  All of a sudden, he stops all movement and I whimper.