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  A laugh boomed out of him before he cut it off with a single shake of his head. “Fuck, Abby,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I shouldn’t be doing this, but I’m not good enough to stop now. You’re my fucking wet dream sitting there in those white panties.”

  “You dream about me?”

  This time, his laugh was all pain, no humor. By way of response, he curled his fingers around the crotch of her panties, nudging her clit in the process, and stripped them down her body. “Get on your damn back, Abby.”

  She hadn’t even finished reclining onto the coarse surface when Russell’s mouth found her. At first, just the explicitness of having another person touching her so intimately sent a thrill blasting up her spine. Like before, when she’d worn her panties, he chafed her center with his face. Cheeks, chin, mouth. Making her feel cherished in a way maybe he didn’t know how to vocalize? No. Stop thinking. Focus on the—

  Pleasure. Abby’s body convulsed on a moan. Holy shit. Her hands scrambled for something to anchor her to the table as the physical equivalent of a scream went off below her belly button. Her belly bottomed out like she’d just flipped upside down on a roller coaster. She’d touched herself in the same place many times, but the smooth glide of Russell’s tongue would forever ruin self-pleasure for her. With his left hand, he traced a pattern up her arched torso to palm her breast, his tongue busy on her clit. Automatically, she rushed to cup the other one, rub a thumb over her aching nipple so she could experience the answering tug between her legs.

  Russell broke away on a growl to scoop her backside into his hands. Abby stared in awe at the transformation in him. His eyes were bright, as if he was running a fever. “If you weren’t a virgin, I’d have two fingers nice and deep.” He laid a kiss on top of her clit. “We’re going to keep this baby innocent today, though. Mostly. Nothing innocent about your legs wrapped around my head, is there?”

  Abby double-checked through hazy vision and saw her legs were still spread. “L-legs wrapped around—” He sucked her clit into his mouth and Abby screamed, legs closing around him, thighs pressing against his ears. “Oh my God. Oh my God.”

  The hands on her bottom tightened, punishing her flesh with bruising strength as he sucked and released, flicked his tongue against her tortured bud, then sucked again. She loved the mix of pleasure and pain so much, she begged for his hands back when they suddenly disappeared. In the far-off distance, she heard the metallic zing of a zipper and the grunt that followed. His lips shook around her clit a moment, before they firmed again and gave one final pull, shooting Abby over the finish line.

  “Russell,” she cried, reaching out to tug his head closer, without shame. She had no capacity to feel anything but beautiful, blazing relief as every muscle she possessed clenched like an iron fist. “I can’t breathe.”

  Abby didn’t realize her eyes were closed until they opened to find Russell standing over her . . . with his erection in his hand. It looked heavy and painful as his touch moved base to tip in hurried movements, his ridged abdomen flexing as he stroked. “Jesus, I’m sorry. It’s too much. You know how fucking sweet you taste?”

  “What do you need?” The words tumbled out before she knew what they meant. Russell’s agonized groan hit her with a brutal punch, forcing her into a sitting position. “Do you want me to—”

  He let go of his erection. Abby only had a second to watch in fascination as it bobbed against his belly, before he yanked her off the table, spun her around and bent her forward. “Say what you were going to say,” he demanded, laying his arousal on her backside and pumping his fist around it once more. “Do I want you to what?”

  A mixture of shock and renewed heat coursed through her. She focused on the latter, marveling over how desired it made her feel. How bad. “Do you want me to suck it, Russell?”

  Her name sounded strangled as he shouted it, just before she felt warm moisture coating her bottom. “Ah, Christ. Christ. That ass has been teasing me for months. I’d love to give it a good fucking smack.”

  “Do it,” she gasped, craving the new, the unexpected. Wanting to ease the misery she’d seen etched into his face even if she didn’t fully understand how it would help. “Please.”

  Abby’s body jolted against the table, hips bumping the hard edge as Russell’s palm connected with her offered bottom. Her mouth fell open in a silent cry, fingers scratching at the table’s surface. Oh. I-I want more of that. A new, almost stickier pleasure ticked the inside of her thighs, feathered the inside of her belly. She wanted Russell to do it again so she could explore the new development, but her backside was covered with soft material—a T-shirt?—the evidence of what they’d done being wiped away.

  When Russell finished, she turned to find him facing the other direction, refastening his jeans. His shoulder and back muscles were tense, movements jerky. Abby’s self-consciousness didn’t just creep in—it roared—until he glanced at her over his shoulder and she saw shame in his gaze as it moved over her.

  “Goddammit.” His hands found his hips, head falling forward. “I told you, Abby. I told you, and you wouldn’t listen.” Then quieter, “I’m sorry, angel.”

  Abby crossed to her discarded dress and stepped inside, pulling it back up around her, feeling as though she was preparing for battle. No . . . there was a battle there, right in front of her. Intuition wouldn’t let her deny it. The battle might not end today or in the near future. She didn’t know what the outcome would be should she lose or win. But she had no choice but to fight. Starting now. “I’m not sorry.”

  “Oh, yeah?” His boots scraped on the floor as he turned, visibly pissed off. “Do you have any idea where these . . . things I want to do to you end? I don’t. I don’t know.” His Adam’s apple rose and fell. “How can I want to protect you and want to do them at the same time?”

  Abby’s heart lurched. “Do you only want to do them to me?”

  His breath whooshed out. An answer seemed to be on the tip of his tongue, but he turned away and wouldn’t meet her eyes. “This can’t be permanent, Abby. I’m sorry if that’s what you expected, but—”

  “You’re not in the market for a girlfriend. I remember that part.” Pain and embarrassment threatened, but she kept her features schooled. Again, she experienced the feeling that something was eluding her. Sure, her physical relationships with men had been limited to awkward high-school dances and the rare kiss, but she couldn’t remember any of them behaving like Russell did when they touched. Would he treat any girl the same way? Her intuition said no, but if she pushed and turned out to be wrong, the resulting humiliation would be awful.

  So he didn’t want a girlfriend. Did she want Russell to be her boyfriend? She hadn’t allowed herself to consider it, but now that her mind had presented the question?

  Yes. Yes, if that meant spending more time with him. Having him touch her whenever she wanted. At the very least, she wanted to try, but only if Russell wanted it, too. He didn’t. Should she leave, then? Forget today ever happened? Or trust her gut, trust him, and have faith the missing puzzle piece would eventually fall into place? The alternative was leaving now, letting Russell go on believing she deserved someone better and losing her chance to explore this daring, new side of herself. And wow, it had felt good letting her inhibitions go and just feeling.

  “I don’t need a boyfriend,” she said, even though it felt dishonest. Even though it made her throat tighten. So she tempered it with honesty. “But I need this.”

  Russell paled. “Please, don’t do this to me.”

  “What am I doing to you?” Abby waited, but he didn’t answer, merely watched her like she’d just buried an ice pick in his chest. It made no sense. He was attracted to her but didn’t want a relationship. Shouldn’t her offer make him happy? “You, uh . . . you don’t have to answer now. I need to get back to work, anyway. So . . .” She headed in the direction of the door, having to bypass Russell to get there. His tense energy warned her to give him space, but she didn’t want to get used to avoiding him, so she stopped and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Bye, Russell.”

  He didn’t say a word or move a muscle as she left the room.

  Chapter 9

  RUSSELL MADE SURE no one was watching as he cracked open the beat-up paperback book and continued reading. If Alec caught him reading a romance novel on his lunch break, the ball-breaking he’d receive would be the stuff of nightmares. Honestly, he would deserve every painful second of it, but nothing could force him to put the goddamn thing down. It had started as a guilty exploration, or possibly his newly revealed masochistic streak, but when he’d noticed Darcy reading The Dark Duke’s Virgin Bride over breakfast, he’d pocketed it without a second thought. Unfortunately, the more Russell read, the certainty that he was screwed with Abby only amplified.

  With another furtive glance over his shoulder, he read on.

  Dreading the inevitable pain he would cause Violet, Sebastian paused at the barrier of her virginity, sucking in a breath at the loveliness of her naked body. The way her breasts shook with excited breaths, even though her eyes held a touch of nerves.

  Right. Okay. Russell was with the Duke so far. Hot virgin. Check. Shaking breasts. Double check.

  Violet’s bit her lip as Sebastian pushed forward, speaking of discomfort that couldn’t be avoided. He tried to console himself with the knowledge her pain would only be temporary. That she would finally be his.

  This is where the head shaking started. The duke was one selfish motherfucker, wasn’t he? As far as Russell could tell, Violet hadn’t wanted any part of the marriage to some weird-ass recluse in the first place. She’d only agreed to wed the dude to save her disgraced family from bankruptcy. Didn’t the duke give a shit that he was taking away her freedom? She’d be stuck with him for life.

  Sebastian braced his hands on either side of Violet’s hips and whispered a heartfelt apology beside her temple. With a single, measured drive, he claimed his bride as his wife in every sense of the word. Her body tensed beneath his much larger one, a cry of surprise passing her lips. “I’m sorry,” Sebastian rasped, sweat beginning to dot his brow. “The pain will pass in but a moment. I won’t move until then, but . . . ah, you feel so perfect, Violet.”

  Russell shoved the book into his glove compartment, wondering why the hell he’d waited to read the sex scene while at work. Operating a buzz saw with a hard-on probably wasn’t the wisest move.

  “Damn books should come with a warning,” he muttered, adjusting his cock through his work pants. Nothing could stop him from replacing himself with the duke and the lip-biting Violet with Abby, however. Which was completely out of bounds. Before yesterday, he’d only dreamed of going all the way with Abby in moments of total weakness. Since she’d shown up with cupcakes and offered to get on her knees for him? He’d mentally fucked sweet, little Abby up one side and down the other, in several positions, in every room in his house. Immediately after he came—every single time—he would renew his vow never to sleep with her in real life. Never. He could not let it happen. But nothing short of a lobotomy could stop him from picturing it. Over and over and fuuuuuck.

  Would Abby cry out in pain like that when he got inside her? The duke was a class-A prick in Russell’s estimation, but man, the way he’d just stayed still while Violet got used to him? Admirable. Russell was pretty sure he’d fail then and there. When he got physical with Abby, something inside him took over. He’d never been gentle in bed, but he’d never spanked a girl. He’d never wanted to pin a girl down and never let her up, the impulse so intense it choked him. Scared him. If he hurt Abby, going on with his life would be torture. Every waking minute would hurt.

  But that’s exactly what he was considering, wasn’t it? I don’t need a boyfriend, but I need this. Need. Abby needed something from him, and his every instinct, at all times, demanded he give her anything and everything she needed. It was a compulsion. An honor. His intention yesterday had been to drive her away, show her how unworthy he was, what an asshole he could be. Instead of cursing at him in Italian as he’d expected, she . . . she’d kissed his cheek.

  Russell realized his palm was pressed to the side of his face and forced his hand to drop. If she’d only stormed out, calling him every name in the book. That he might have been able to handle. But she’d offered him no-strings-attached sex, and he didn’t know if enough nobility in the world existed for him to pass that up. Not with Abby. Maybe he could say no at that moment, but put her in front of him with her dress off again? He’d be a fucking goner.

  Having a physical relationship with Abby without labeling her as his girlfriend was low. So damn low. Move over Duke Sebastian, there’s a new dickhead in town. But Russell had woken up this morning with a glimmer of hope lodged in his rib cage, refusing to budge. What if. What if. What if. He had the bank meeting next week. If by some miracle he secured the loan, Hart Brothers Construction could go to the next level. It would take a shit ton of hard work, but it would be enough to give a comfortable life to Abby. More comfortable than the one his father had provided his mother. And if Russell could have Abby in his life, he’d work fifteen jobs and still take side gigs.

  So, as of now, he had a plan. A plan to be with Abby if everything went exactly right. If he managed to put on a suit and convince the loan officer he was a responsible man with a vision to expand his business, he’d ask her to be patient while he built it into the best damn construction company in New York City. He couldn’t believe he was allowing himself to even consider a future with her, but after yesterday, resistance was futile. He needed Abby.

  Now he just had to avoid her until then, so he didn’t fuck everything up. He couldn’t allow them to become friends with benefits, something that would be beneath her. God, did she really believe that was all he wanted to offer her? Thought he didn’t feel enough to give her the real thing? Knowing that hurt after how close they’d become, but he’d fix it. He’d fix everything soon.

  A knock on his truck window sent him shooting up in the driver’s seat, his head hitting the ceiling with a bang. “What the—” He turned to find Ben staring back at him through the window, sipping a paper cup of coffee and looking highly amused. He stepped back when Russell pushed the door open. “What are you on a field trip or something, professor?”

  “Nope.” Ben surveyed the construction site. “Although, I have no doubt my English students would learn some colorful language here.”

  “Fucking-a.” Russell shut the driver’s side door and leaned against the sun-heated side. “What brings you and those shiny loafers to this neck of the woods?”

  “You didn’t answer your cell phone, and I need a head count.”

  “For?”

  “A road trip to the Hamptons. Tomorrow through Sunday.” Ben shrugged and tossed his now-empty cup into the nearby trash can. “Honey and Roxy came up with the idea, and since I don’t have a death wish, here I stand.”

  Russell frowned. “Death wish?”

  “Take Abby out of town without telling you? I’d like to keep my anatomy intact.”

  “Abby.” Russell stood up straighter. Of course she was going. Those three girls didn’t do anything apart anymore. Except for surprise trips to Queens, apparently. And while he wanted to laugh off Ben’s assumption that he’d blow his top if she went out of town without his knowledge . . . it had been accurate. For the million and first time that day, he wondered where the hell this protectiveness with Abby ended. Did it end? Would it grow? The back of his neck had already started to sweat, just envisioning her in a car driving farther and farther away. “Where did they come up with this idea?”

  The way Ben eyed him made Russell nervous about what was coming. “Between you and me, Honey mentioned that Abby’s been stressed. They thought the trip might help—”

  “Stressed about what?” Based on Ben’s raised eyebrow, Russell knew he’d shouted the question. Christ, please don’t let it be because of him. It couldn’t be. Could it? She’d seemed tired yesterday, but no more than she had been for the last month. But that was due to work. Right? She’d been working too hard. Why hadn’t he thought of getting her out of town?

  Ben gave his shoulder a shove. “I assume from the smoke coming out of your ears that you’ve decided to join?”

  He was supposed to be avoiding her, dammit. The timing couldn’t have been worse. When he noticed Ben watching him curiously, he stalled. “Uh. Where is everyone staying?” Where will Abby be staying? Will she be safe?

  “That’s kind of the crazy part.” Ben adjusted his glasses. “Honey was all set to book some affordable motel until Abby casually mentioned her family owns an estate in Southampton. A big one. We’re staying there.”

  Russell’s stomach sank to the ground. An estate in Southampton. He could work seven days a week for the rest of his life and never give her that. Was there even a point in trying? Yeah. Fuck yeah there was . . . it was Abby. But he needed more time. He’d had a damn plan up until a minute ago. Now he was facing two days of being in the same house with Abby, knowing she was sleeping down the hall and wanting to continue what they’d started. A nightmare and a dream come true, rolled together in a ball of total mindfuckery.

  “Look, I checked, and there are enough bedrooms for you to keep Abby in the friend zone. If that’s what you want.” When Russell only stayed quiet, Ben laughed. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, man, but if Honey was going to be in a bikini on the beach, the only single girl in the bunch, I’d be shitting a brick.”

  “I’ll go,” Russell grated. “I’m going.”

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