by Tessa Bailey
“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was hoarse from holding back a shout. Not at Abby but into the ether. A general shout of what the fuck that would echo for a year. He wanted to level self-disgust at himself for underestimating her, for thinking she’d been working some cushy office job that catered lunch and overpaid their employees for sitting on their asses in air-conditioning all day. He’d always known Abby had a brilliant mind, but he assumed working was optional for her. It appeared to be anything but. “You tell me everything. What was different this time? I would have found a way to help.”
Abby pushed to her feet with a soft laugh. “You just answered your own question. You can’t help this time around. And it would have driven you crazy.”
“Don’t worry, I’m making up for lost time in the crazy department.”
She glanced toward the house. “Look what happened when I told Roxy and Honey. Now my problem is theirs. Now none of us can enjoy the weekend. I was fine with its just being me.”
“Of course, they’re worried, Abby.” He closed the gap between them and grabbed her shoulders, shaking her a little. “You’re worthy of everyone’s worry. If the same thing that happened to your father happened to you, I’d . . .”
“You’d what? Get mad at me? Stomp around and shout at everyone? Do you think that would help?” She jerked away from his grip, temper making her eyes glow in the partial darkness. “And I’m worthy? Worthy of what? Getting on my knees for you . . . but not actually being your girlfriend. Right?” Her words dug into his chest like a round of bullets. “Manache! Your words mean nothing to me right now.”
Russell had no idea how long he stood there, staring at the spot where Abby had been standing, her outline still visible. A chain saw had been swiped across his midsection, sending his vital organs falling to the ground. His legs didn’t want to hold him up, but collapsing would require movement, and he hurt too much to attempt that.
Abby thought he’d been using her. That was the sick truth his dishonesty had bred. This girl he dreamed of making his wife thought he wanted a temporary hookup—and why not? I’m not in the market for a girlfriend. Hadn’t he said those words, possibly even more than once? She’d stuck around anyway, and the only reason he could come up with was . . . she’d trusted him to do the right thing by her. And in fucktastic fashion, he’d fulfilled the prophecy originated by his father and done the opposite.
Could he tell her the truth? That he’d only wanted to be sure, positive that he could provide for her before taking that major step he was dying to take. Asking her, begging her, to be his forever. Right now, forever with Abby sounded like even more of a long shot than it had this morning. Now he was working against more than his couch-surfing status. He had to overcome the wound he’d inflicted by letting her feel used.
Russell cursed, the jackhammer in his head revving once again, ready to finish the job. Right now, he could only follow his instincts. They were telling him to get inside and do something to help her. And yeah, maybe it made him a bastard, but Abby around another man didn’t sit right. Never would. But when he walked inside, he found Mitchell sitting alone at the kitchen table, stuffing documents back into a briefcase.
“Where’s Abby?”
When the guy eyeballed him, Russell remembered his lack of a shirt. Deal with it, man. “She headed out the front door. Said she wanted some fresh air.” The lawyer’s smile was tight. “Maybe you should let her get it.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t talk to me about Abby. Ever. How’s that sound?”
Mitchell laughed, and it sounded phony as hell. “Mrs. Sullivan will be interested to know whom Abby decided to bring into their home.” He snapped his briefcase shut. “Of course, the others seem perfectly fine.”
Russell refused to show an ounce of self-consciousness. But it stung. Maybe this guy wasn’t the corporate drone he appeared to be. There was a sharpness to Mitchell that hadn’t been apparent when he spoke to Abby outside.
But he’d think about it later. Right now, he wanted to go find Abby. He didn’t like the idea of her walking around alone in the dark. Was she still only wearing a damn bathing suit and his T-shirt? Russell shouldered past the lawyer and left the kitchen. He could hear everyone upstairs, speaking in hushed tones, but he didn’t hear Abby. The front door was slightly ajar, making him think Mitchell had been telling the truth about where she’d gone.
The night was warm, but he only registered the temperature dimly, totally focused on figuring out where Abby had gone. When he caught up with her, he would apologize until his voice was gone. He’d be as honest as possible without completely tipping his hand. If she knew everything hinged on one bank meeting, she’d tell him he was being ridiculous. That was Abby. But she hadn’t seen what the future could look like yet without the benefit of financial security. He had. He remembered every second, and she wouldn’t be subjected to it.
A short staircase to his left led down to the beach. Since there was no sign of Abby on the pathway, he took it, refusing to indulge the foreboding prickling the back of his neck. Calm down.
Waves washed up onto the beach, white surf spreading until it soaked into the sand. Every fifteen feet sat a green-and-white-striped cabana for beachgoers to escape the sun. What ever happened to good old-fashioned umbrellas? He’d only ever been to Rockaway Beach in Queens, but he would appreciate the vast difference between the two locations tomorrow. Right now, he—
Russell stopped short, an alarm blaring in his head. Cold blasted him. His T-shirt had been discarded in the sand, right at the edge of the water. Moving on autopilot, he bent down to retrieve it and noticed the footprints leading right into the ocean.
ABBY SAT ON top of a flat rock, knees pulled to her chest, staring out at the water. The paperwork Mitchell had brought had been fairly straightforward, authorizing the moving of funds, overseas transfers. One new hire contract. And shuffled in between them all, a power-of-attorney document, giving her permission to make decisions on her father’s behalf.
She’d signed something similar when her father was first incapacitated, to cover them if word got out that he wasn’t actively running the company, but it hadn’t been nearly as extensive. Mitchell continued to say her father’s condition was stable, but she didn’t know what to believe. One thing was for certain. She wouldn’t sit around anymore and wait for her father to request her presence. As soon as she got back to New York, she would see his condition for herself.
Another interesting detail had snagged her eye while reviewing the paperwork. She personally owned a 2 percent stake in the company. Something she hadn’t been aware of until tonight and wasn’t even sure she was supposed to know. Why had she never been made aware? The discovery had sparked an idea. An idea that required more thought. One that snowballed the more she entertained it.
Abby’s racing thoughts were interrupted when Russell appeared on the beach. Her initial reaction at the sight of him, as always, was a mixture of warmth and contentment. But it was tempered with disappointment now. Sadness. And unfortunately, some significant sexual awareness that probably would never fade, now that she knew what their bodies could do together.
She watched as he picked up the T-shirt she’d thrown off in what had been an admittedly childish move. Just because she was angry with him and didn’t know where they stood, didn’t mean she should ditch his clothes in random spots. She hated feeling guilty for her parting shot by the pool. Really, she should own the statement she’d made because she’d meant it. Right now, though, she couldn’t help but crave their closeness from before. Before they’d been intimate. When she could lay her head on his shoulder and tell him everything on her mind.
Abby’s insides jolted when Russell shouted her name. Had he seen her? He wasn’t even looking in her direction. When he charged headfirst into the water, her confusion sunk into the yawning pit in her stomach. His voice sounded strangled as he called her name over and over, diving beneath the surface. Looking for her? Yes. He thought she’d gone into t
he water. As quickly as possible, Abby gained her footing and leapt from the rock onto the sand. Her still-sensitive ankle protested, but she paid it no attention, sprinting toward the water.
“Russell.”
The sound of waves crashing half swallowed her voice, but he would have heard her, had he not just dived below the surface once more. Abby had just reached the shoreline and splashed into the ocean when Russell rose with a strangled curse, water coursing down his back. He spun in a circle, obviously still searching the dark waves, hands moving furiously in the water as if he could peel it back and find her.
“Goddammit!” he shouted. “Angel, please.”
“Russell,” she said again, out of breath. He heard her this time—thank God—his entire body stiffening, before slowly turning to face her. The turmoil on his face made Abby stumble in her awkward attempts to reach him, but she pushed forward and threw herself at him without thinking. His big body was an unmoving block of ice, so she grabbed his shoulders and climbed, wrapping her legs around his waist and holding tight. “I’m sorry. I was on the beach. I’m sorry.”
Still, he made no attempt to hold her back. Tremors began to move through him, shaking them both where they stood in the churning water.
Abby buried her face in his neck. “Say something. You’re scaring me.”
“I’m scaring you.” The words were toneless, but she could feel his pulse thundering against her lips. “You were under the water.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
Russell’s entire body heaved a shuddering breath, then two powerful arms were crushing her against his chest. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t inhale; at least he’d come back to her from wherever he’d gone. “You keep doing this to me.” His whisper was furious in her hair. “Keep almost taking yourself away. What would I have done, Abby? What?”
Another shudder passed through Russell, and it sent realization coursing through Abby. An understanding that this man had made mistakes, maybe he would make even more, but his feelings for her were real. As real as hers for him. There was no room for a barrier between them at that moment, and she needed to take advantage. Find out why Russell would charge into an ocean for her but didn’t want a serious relationship. For crying out loud, from where she was standing, their relationship was more serious than most marriages she’d encountered among her parents and their friends.
“You don’t call anyone else angel.” She leaned back to meet his gaze. “I thought all the way back to our first hang out. Not a waitress, not my roommates. No one. You only call me that.”
She’d caught him at a weak moment, when he was still coming down off the imagined tragedy. It was evident in the way his eyes closed, his head tipped forward to rest against hers. “Yeah. I know.”
“Why would you tell me otherwise?” She swallowed what felt like a handful of pebbles. “Do you want to push me away?”
“You think there’s an easy answer to that?” The question burst out of him with the force of a gale wind, warming her face. “Yes and no. There’s your answer.”
“Why yes?”
Russell didn’t speak for a long stretch, just continuing to hold her so tightly, as if she might try and escape. They breathed together, bodies moving as one in a way that felt natural. How it was supposed to be. Abby didn’t realize she’d closed her eyes until Russell finally spoke, forcing them open. “Look at me, angel.” She leaned back and did as he asked, gulping in the face of such intensity. “Look at how fucked-up I am. You can’t even go for a walk without my being convinced the world is going to swallow you up. It’s not normal.”
Abby tried to interject—with what, she wasn’t sure—but he cut her off.
“There’s a reason.” His muscles tensed against her. “It’s not good enough. Nothing excuses the way I act when it comes to you. Remember that, okay?” He sucked in a breath. “I lost someone. My mother. She . . . died. It was a long time ago, but I remember what it felt like. It could have been prevented if we’d just found a way to make her feel better. And it’s not right, Abby, it’s not right, but I have to make sure I don’t feel that way ever again. You’re the only one who could make me. The only one.”
The taste of salt invaded Abby’s mouth, a mixture of tears and the surrounding ocean. Russell’s pain harpooned past her ribs and struck deep. She hadn’t been the only one keeping a secret, and it killed her. Killed her knowing he’d been harboring it on his own. She wanted to ask how his mother died, but the hurt radiating from him was already so profound, she couldn’t find the words. Instead, she clung to him like her life depended on it, laying kisses on his collarbone and neck, whispering comfort that only made sense to them.
“There’s more, Abby. She—my mother—would still be around if . . . if maybe she’d had a hero. I don’t know . . .”
Russell trailed off, and Abby waited, but he didn’t finish his thought. She didn’t want him to. She could practically feel the wounds gaping on his flesh where it pressed against her. He’d opened up enough for one night. The need to heal and distract rising within her was so powerful, it was almost visible in the air surrounding them.
She had the ability to make him forget his pain tonight. Always, if he’d let her. Hadn’t every secret shared, every touch exchanged, been leading to this moment? Heat tickled her belly, thinking of how Russell had been in the guest room, how in control he’d been . . . and all the while, just a hint out of control. Craving the experience again, needing to soothe the memories they’d dug up, Abby didn’t second-guess herself as she trailed her tongue up the side of Russell’s neck, breathing against his ear.
“Now tell me why you don’t want to push me away.”
Chapter 14
RUSSELL SLIPPED A hand down Abby’s back, over her slick bathing suit. He wanted to peel off the tight nylon and see his girl naked in the moonlight, feel her bare ass in his grip, but he forced his hand into a fist at the base of her spine. And breathed. Which was a mistake because she smelled like white grapes with a hint of tequila. Naughty and nice, wrapped around his body, ready to give him everything.
She was giving him an out, this sweet, beautiful girl he loved. He really shouldn’t take it. Should come clean about everything. His insecurity over her money, his failed attempts to close that financial gap, his plan to try one final time. The reality of his family life . . . how that family had broken apart. Hell, he’d already chipped away at the dam, telling her something he hadn’t even told his friends. It had felt good. Right. Would he feel better for spilling everything?
“Russell,” she murmured at his mouth, obliterating his concentration. “Tell me the reason you can’t push me away.”
His heart drummed faster and faster, matching his breath. Jesus Christ. He knew what was coming, knew she would offer herself to him tonight. On a regular basis, he felt unworthy of Abby, but right now? Right now, she looked like some exotic mermaid, glowing under the night sky, the ocean as her backdrop. She wasn’t something a man like him was allowed to experience. A painfully sexy virgin, tempting him to fuck her on some rich man’s beach. It was like a pornographic postcard. Or it would be if he wasn’t prepared to die for this girl at the prompting of one, single word from her mouth.
“You know why I can’t stay away, angel. Work your hips up, and you’ll feel it.” Eyes sparking with excitement, Abby flexed her thighs around his waist, lifted, and rolled her body, gasping at the pronounced thickness inside his wet board shorts. Shiiiit. When had she started to move like that? She knew right where he needed to feel her pussy, knew to give a tight, little buck that conjured thoughts of his own hips doing the same. Only she’d be beneath him with her thighs spread. Christ, he needed to take this slow. Needed to make an attempt to deserve this. Deserve her. “Hey. Let me see your eyes, Abby.” Her hazel gaze was foggy as it lifted, snagged on him. It was a moment before he could speak normally. “I want your body. Want it bad as fuck. But I can’t stay away from you, Abby, because you’re you. Okay?”
“Okay
,” Abby breathed. She went for his mouth with such unexpected eagerness, the impact of her taste sent him back a step in the water. Her moan as their tongues met had the effect of a smooth hand wrapping around his dick. The familiar voice that growled mine whenever he touched Abby increased in volume, competing with the ocean. Her thighs started moving restlessly on either side of him, climbing his waist and grinding down, all the while making these head-wrecking, whimpering noises when her sweet spot met his cock. Their mouths were competing for the best taste of one another, lips greedy and desperate.
Closer. Need her as close as possible. With one arm wedged beneath her ass, Russell used the opposite hand to yank down the straps of her bathing suit. As soon as he got the stretchy material around her waist, he kissed down her neck and sucked each of her nipples in turn. “I can’t believe you’re going to let me inside this body. So hot . . . so smooth. I don’t belong there, but it’s mine all the same. Isn’t it?”
Her fingernails dug into his shoulders as she leaned back to give him a perfect view of her tits. “I don’t want anyone but you. How many ways can I say it?”
Goddamn. If he didn’t get her out of the water and into someplace private, he would fuck her standing up. Which sounded awesome to his Abby-starved brain, but no way in hell would he cause her more pain than necessary. Keeping a tight hold on her, Russell began wading toward the shore, pausing every few feet to get his mouth on her nipples or kiss a whimper out of her. In the dark, pressed so close to the girl he craved, secrets contained inside his head so long made for the exit. “What I said . . . about how I worry about you. There’s a huge part of me that loves it, Abby.” His hands found her ass and kneaded. “I love covering your body up with my clothes. Being the one who gets you home safe. I love it. It’s my job.”
She brushed her lips over his ear, making him shiver. “I was mad at you earlier for ripping my bathing suit . . . but I wasn’t mad, too.”