Reflection (The Chrysalis Series) (16 page)

Chapter Nineteen

Bridget watched as Connor pulled the hostess aside and slipped her what appeared to be a $50 bill. She smiled up at him and, with a quick grin in Bridget’s direction, led them to a private booth near the kitchen at the back of the restaurant. The booth was round with high-backed seats that would afford seclusion from the other patrons of the crowded restaurant. A small thrill went through Bridget; whether in fear or anticipation she wasn’t sure.

Connor’s palm rested on her lower back and she felt the heat of his skin against hers. Simultaneously she regretted and thrilled at wearing such a daring dress for the evening. With her back bare, she felt every inch of his palm and her skin tingled with awareness. Arousal made her breasts heavy and achy and she was very lucky that the designer had made this stunning creation with attention to details like built-in support for ample breasts.

Connor took her wrap and handbag as she slid into the booth and then, rather than sit across from her as she’d expected, he slid in beside her. Registering her surprise, he just winked at her and smiled that crooked grin that melted her every single time.

The hostess began rattling off the specials, pulling her awareness away from Connor, and she was grateful for the reprieve. She didn’t really know how to handle his blatant regard for her or, frankly, her wanton response.

She wondered what Claire would say now. After all of Bridget’s dramatics when they’d gone to buy lingerie, now here she was sporting nothing but a scrap of silk passing for a thong under this dress, a
bona fide
garter belt and stockings to boot, and feeling like the sexiest woman on earth. It helped that when Connor looked at her like he could eat her for dessert and still not be satisfied.

The image of Connor feasting on her body caused swirls of desire to fan out from her womb and she clenched. Her nipples tightened, and a flush spread along her skin. This dress may have support for a woman shaped like she did, but it was still silk; it didn’t hide her aroused state from him. She could practically feel his eyes on her and her embarrassed flush deepened.

Avoiding his gaze, she ordered a glass of white wine and waited as Connor gave his own order for a Guinness stout. She wished she could run and hide until she calmed down.

‘Bridget.’

His voice flowed over her, adding to her awareness of him, and her nipples went even tighter. The silk abraded the sensitive flesh and she had to fight not to squirm. She stared at the highly polished wood of the table top and simply ignored him. After her reaction to him in the alley, she was at a complete loss.

‘Bridget. Look at me.’ He reached out a finger and gently raised her chin so that their eyes met. His eyes, usually so light and laughing, were smoky and hot. They smouldered like the very ash they resembled.

‘It’s OK, sweetheart. Stop fighting it.’

Hot tears flooded her eyes and she blinked rapidly to clear them. There was no way she was going to cry in public and embarrass herself further.

‘There is nothing OK about putting myself on display like a hussy.’

For the briefest moment, anger flashed across his face, but it was quickly stifled and his voice was gentle when he said, ‘Being aroused is natural when you’re with someone you’re attracted to. When you’re attracted to someone, it’s also natural to act on it. Because of what happened to you, your signals are crossed now. That act has made you distrust yourself.’

‘That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one sitting here hot and bothered and on display for everyone to know it.’

‘Really.’ He drawled the word as he reached for her hand. Sliding closer to her, he placed her palm in his lap and she felt the steel of his erection under his slacks.

She instinctively squeezed and he groaned, but when she went to snatch her hand away, he held onto her, pressing her palm down around his cock. Leaning into her, he whispered, ‘Stroke me.’

‘Here!’ She hissed the word, looking around to ensure no one was watching them.

He nodded again, whispering, ‘No one can see us. Touch me, Bridget. Feel how much I want you right now.’

She hesitated, but only for a split second. She liked that he wanted her. Liked that she wasn’t alone in her neediness. She was coiled tight and some part of her needed to connect with him and know she wasn’t by herself in this.

She stroked him through his pants, enjoying the solid feel of him under her palm. The way he responded was dizzying; his body jumping under the cloth of his pants. His soft groans only spurred her on and she moved even closer, adding friction and pressure to her ministrations.

‘That feels amazing, Bridg,’ he groaned into her neck. ‘I want you to do this again when there’s no fabric between us. I want to see your hand, so tiny, wrapped around my cock and watch you jack me off.’

He groaned again as she squeezed, fascinated at the sounds he made, the images he projected into her mind, and the evidence of his desire for her right in front of her eyes. His hips were moving now and his breathing was harsh as she continued to stroke and rub his cock. His smoky eyes held hers and she watched the play of his features as they hardened in desire and need.

‘It’s your call, sweetheart. I’m at your mercy. Do you want me to come for you?’

She marvelled at his willingness to give her this power. They were in public, for God’s sake. She was damn tempted to make him come. To watch him fall apart under her hands the way he made her fall apart and know she’d done it to him.

Instead, she leaned over and, for the first time since they’d met, she initiated a kiss. She brushed her lips over his, taking in the textures and the sweet, minty taste of his lips before delicately tracing them with her tongue. He opened to her readily and their tongues began a lazy dance.

She brought her hands up to his chest, resting her palms on him and marvelling at the fierceness and tempo of his heartbeat. Her own was going a mile a minute. Connor didn’t repeat his mistake of the picnic. His hands stayed away from her neck, though he turned to face her as he deepened the kiss. One hand rested on her hip and lightly stroked her in tandem to the rhythmic invasion of his tongue in her mouth.

Before she could protest again about being in public – not that she wanted to protest – Connor brushed his hand up along her midriff and cupped her breast, lightly massaging before squeezing her nipple. She gasped into his mouth and he gentled his touch, cupping her breast and stroking his thumb over the distended tip.

‘Connor –’ She broke the kiss, trying to marshal her thoughts though she had no real idea of what she wanted to say; she was awash in sensations.

‘I want you.’ He squeezed her nipple again. ‘Bad. I want to fuck you tonight. We made love before and I want that too, but tonight … tonight I want to fuck you. I want you on your knees with my cock in your mouth. I want you on top of me, riding my dick like there’s no tomorrow.’ His hand left her breast and cupped her chin gently. ‘You drive me crazy, Bridget.’

Overwhelmed and damn near panting, Bridget couldn’t manage so much as a “damn, that was hot!”

Fortunately, she was saved from having to respond by their server showing up to take their order.

The janitor! She was screwing the fucking janitor! The gall of that bitch. She’d fuck the janitor but she treated him like he was less than dirt under her shoes. Who the fuck did she think she was?

And who the fuck did he think he was? Whittier saw him just about every day. Emptying his trash. That was where he belonged, not reaching for what belonged to Dale. He had no right to put his hands on what was his.

Whittier threw back the scotch he’d previously been savouring and considered what he’d just seen. Luna Bella was not an establishment he usually frequented, but this was where the theatre’s board had decided to hold their annual dinner. They’d rented a private room at the restaurant to which they’d all adjourned after the screening of a local filmmaker’s documentary on homeless children.

Boring didn’t quite cover the depth of distaste he had for both the board and their pretentious little pack of upstart creatives who all thought they were going to be the next Coppola. But he had a standing to uphold in this community. Appearances were important to his end game.

Luna Bella was across the street from the theatre, making it convenient. Personally, he found the food plebeian compared to what he was used to. He preferred Gia – River Rock’s finest restaurant. Their chef had a Michelin star as well as a James Beard Award. His steak au poivre melted in your mouth. The best thing on the menu at Luna Bella was the Ossobuco, and that was like comparing a Rolls-Royce to a Lexus. No one would deny that the Lexus was a perfectly acceptable car, but it couldn’t compare with the elegance and sheer magnificence of the Rolls.

By the time the food was finished, he’d grown claustrophobic from the hot air the board members were throwing around; each person’s ego fighting for space. He’d followed the waitress who’d been tossing inviting glances his way. He’d figured he’d get her number and maybe even a quick one. She’d headed toward the kitchen and he’d followed. Anything to liven this night up.

Instead, he’d seen Bridget and the motherfucking janitor going at each other like rabbits. His hands had been all over her and hers had been between his legs. That bitch acted like she was so fucking pristine and here she was out in public acting like a total whore.

There was no way he was letting her off the hook now. He’d considered it. He hated that she looked at him with fear. Hated that he felt compelled to coerce and manipulate her. She, of all the women he’d dealt with, was the one he wanted to come to him freely. And, of all the women he’d dealt with, she was the one who rejected him out of hand.

No more. No fucking more.

He’d have her. He’d have her regardless of what she wanted.

He thought of her fighting him. Crying. Begging. Pleading. She’d be sublime in her pain.

His dick hardened.

‘You know,’ a soft voice whispered in his ear, ‘I could help you with that.’

Whittier looked into the heavily made-up eyes of the waitress he’d followed before. She was staring at his erection, her eyes hot with lust.

The rest of the party was so engrossed in trying to one up each other that no one was paying any attention to them. He set his glass on the table and ran his hand up her stockinged leg. He cupped her ass under her skirt. Thong and garters. Easy access.

‘Yes, you can.’ He stood and gestured for her to lead the way.

Later, as he pounded into her from behind in the employee bathroom, he imagined she had red hair and green eyes.

She was going to kill him. Right there in the moment. He would die with the worst damn hard-on and everyone would know that he’d bought it trying to keep his hands off the sexiest woman he’d ever met. He knew he had to keep it together or he was going to wreck everything.

She’d finally trusted him enough to start breaking down her walls and he wasn’t going to wreck it by behaving like an animal. He’d damn near jumped her in the restaurant, but fortunately he’d managed to stop himself. He still had to tread carefully with her. The barrier was falling, just a little, but it was a start.

He’d almost blown it in the alley. Literally and figuratively. He’d been ready to come then too. But going down on her in an alley was no way to get her to come to grips with her sexuality. It would read as sleazy even if it wasn’t meant that way.

With her innate sexiness, she made it so hard for him to stay focused. All she had to do was speak in that low, silky drawl and his cock was standing at attention, begging for her lips to do something other than speak. He’d been serious, he’d been willing to come in his pants right there for her. Anything to keep her hands on him. He hadn’t been able to keep from touching her at the restaurant and now, as they walked the few blocks from Luna Bella to her house, he couldn’t keep his eyes off her.

The gold silk dress she wore clung to all the right spots, accentuating her full, soft curves. The stiletto heels added height and made her legs seem endless while giving a sway to her walk that mesmerised him. Tendrils of coppery hair floated around her neck despite the attempt to wrangle the curls on top of her head, and a single strand of pearls circled her neck. She was a fantasy. A pin-up mixed with Hollywood starlet, and if he thought he’d come away with both his balls intact, he’d press her up against the nearest wall, find out exactly what she had on under that silk, and bury his cock deep inside her. But you didn’t treat a woman like Bridget with that kind of abandon. Not yet anyway. Her past required deference.

One day, if he handled this right, there’d be no barriers between them and their sexual relationship would be about exploration, not healing. Until then though, she had to be handled gently and with care.

Not that his dick gave a flying damn. He shuddered as it came to life at the thought of being inside Bridget. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep his control so rigidly in check. Cold showers weren’t cutting it any more. He loved the progress they’d made. Loved that she allowed him to make love to her, but tonight he wanted her in a way that cut through his control like a hot knife through butter.

‘You haven’t heard a word I’ve said, have you?’ Bridget was smiling up at him. Her emerald eyes sparkled with mirth in the moonlight.

Rather than dissemble, he shook his head and said, ‘Nope. I’ve been distracted.’ He was surprised to find they were already at her porch.

‘Darlin’, that’s obvious.’ She smiled. The curve of her full lips riveted him. ‘What’s got you so deep in thought that my exposition on Daisy’s latest hijinks isn’t keeping your attention?’

Leaning against the railing of her steps, he pulled her to him, enveloping her in a gentle hug.

‘You, Bridg. You have me distracted.’ Tipping her chin up, he dropped a gentle kiss on her lips. ‘I think I better go home, before I do something that I’ll regret and you might resent.’

She gripped his lapels and held tight as she whispered against his lips, ‘What makes you so sure I’m going to resent what you want to do?’