Honor Bound (6 page)

A little.

That tactic—the one where I got really loud and curse—that worked with the guys. I didn’t think it would go over so well here. “Seriously, what gives?”

Her arms, which had been crossed, suddenly dropped her to sides. “I really don’t have time for this, Mr. Maxwell.” She said it with a curl of her lip that piqued my curiosity.

“Mr. Maxwell?” I was thoroughly confused. “Since when did I become Mr. Maxwell? That’s my father, not me. C’mon, Ali. For two weeks, we’ve been joking and having fun, and now suddenly I’m Mr. Maxwell?”

“We weren’t joking and having fun,” she said tartly. “You were joking and having fun at my expense. Now if you’ll excuse me…”

This time, I did grab her, and I pulled her in close. Her notepad and measuring tape dropped to the floor, and her big brown eyes grew impossibly huge as she looked up at me. Good. At least she was finally looking at me. “Is that what this is about? You’re upset because I teased you?”

She wiggled to get out of my arms, but all it did was serve to inflame me. She felt good. Really good. “Ali,” I warned through clenched teeth.

“Let me go. I have a job to do. Some of us really have to work for a living.”

What the hell? “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I need to get back to work,” she said and pulled against my grip.

“Not a chance.” My voice was so low that I almost didn’t recognize it. “Not until you tell me why you’ve suddenly decided that we aren’t friends.”

She stopped moving so suddenly that I almost let her go. Where there had been rage a second ago, there was now confusion. “Friends?” she said incredulously. “We aren’t friends. We were never friends. We are two people who happen to be working at the same place. That’s it.” With a surprise move, she jerked free of my arms and stumbled back until she hit the wall behind her. It was the first time I realized that we were still standing in the small hallway that divided the two master closets.

Her hand came up and rubbed the spot on the back of her head that hit the wall. The accusing look she gave me was enough to make me feel like crap. “Ali, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were going to pull away like that. Are you all right?” I stepped forward to see for myself if she was okay.

“Just…don’t, okay?” she said with disgust. “You’ve done enough. I don’t need you checking on me.” She bent down carefully and picked up her belongings. “Just…just leave me alone, okay?” Disgust was replaced with something sad and lost, and it was killing me.

It was now or never. “I don’t think I can do that,” I told her, speaking only the truth.

“Why? Because you Maxwells don’t like being told what to do?” There was the fire again. I knew she was trying to provoke me, but she didn’t realize that she had hit the number one hot button with me.

“Yeah, something like that.” And then I stepped in close, close enough that her back was plastered against the wall and her front was plastered against me. Her eyes went wide, and her mouth formed a perfect ‘o’. She gasped, and I felt her tremble. And then I did what I’d been dying to do for days.

I kissed her.

Ali

He kissed me. He actually kissed me.

Sebastian Maxwell kissed me—right there in Ken Gentry’s master bedroom.

Did I mention
he kissed me
?

In full disclosure, I might have kissed him back.

Not immediately, though. At first, I was shocked, so I froze in a motionless stupor when he cupped my head with one of his big hands and tilted it up to meet his. I was trapped between him and the wall, but I wasn’t scared. I was stunned.

I don’t know about other women, but when I’m arguing with a guy or having an awkward conversation or getting my head banged against the wall, I don’t expect to get kissed. So I just stood there for a few seconds, feeling his lips, his big, hard body, his heat.

But then my body got interested, reacting far faster than my mind. So I somehow ended up lifting one of my hands to cling to his firm bicep. And I arched my spine slightly so my breasts were pressing against his chest. And I raised my other arm to reach up behind his neck.

My head spun with surprise and sensation, so I felt totally out of control. But it wasn’t a bad feeling. Pleasure and excitement buzzed through my body as my mouth opened of its own accord. Then his tongue was in my mouth, and my own tongue seemed to like it, since it kept sliding against his in some sort of instinctive dance.

“Ali,” he murmured against my mouth, when we’d broken apart just enough to breathe. His hand still cupped the back of my head, protecting it from the wall, and the other hand had settled at the small of my back.

I thought he might say something else, explain how this inexplicable thing was happening. But he didn’t. He just said my name and claimed my lips again.

I honestly had no objections. My blood was pulsing now with the feel of him, with the desire for more of him.

I straightened my arm until I could tangle my fingers in his thick hair as he kissed me long and hard.

His hand slid down until he was palming my bottom, and it felt intimate, vulnerable. His body seemed to be tightening in a delicious way, and I couldn’t keep from rubbing myself against it as our lips and tongues tangled together.

My skin was burning with a flush of pleasure, and I felt a new kind of pulsing between my legs. It was so overwhelming that I used all the energy I had to turn my head away from his and pant desperately, trying to make my mind work again, trying to get my body to settle down before I did something crazy like start to tear Sebastian’s clothes off.

He was pressing little kisses against my cheek and jaw, and he used the span of my bottom to press me more closely to his groin. “You are just delectable, Ali,” he murmured hoarsely. “I’ve never known another woman who could make me crazy with just a kiss.”

And the words sent my head spinning even more, speaking to something I desperately wanted to hear, wanted to feel. I gasped in a ragged breath and arched my neck, leaning back against the hand that still cupped my head.

“I’m going to kiss you again,” he said, his green eyes devouring my face with a hunger I needed to feel. “Just so you know.”

“Oh.” That was me. Brilliant as ever.

He smiled—half hot and half tender. “Damn, you’re so gorgeous and…and sweet somehow. I might never stop kissing you.”

And that sounded even better to me. I pressed my whole body into his, my lips parted as I waited needily for more of him. He couldn’t have mistaken how desperately I wanted him. My desire must have been obvious in every way.

He stared down at me for a minute, just on the edge of the kiss. I don’t know exactly what he saw in me, but he seemed to like it because the fire blazed hotter in his eyes and his body tightened even more.

He was hard against me now, aroused in way that caused desire to clench in me too.

I was trembling with need when he finally leaned back down into another kiss. This one was just as deep, just as eager, just as overwhelming.

I dug my fingernails into the back of his neck as my body rocked in response. When he finally released my mouth and started to kiss his way down my neck, I gasped out the only word I could shape. “Sebastian.”

He grunted in response, pushing his arousal into my middle.

“Sebastian,” I gasped again, suddenly realizing that I was so far gone that I might let him lay me down on the bed a few feet away and go a lot further than a kiss.

And that was the clear thought that finally sliced through the hot haze of pleasure and emotion.

Because this wasn’t just a hot guy named Sebastian who was attracted to me for some reason. This was Sebastian
Maxwell
. And not only had his family’s company ruined everything important to me, but he’d also proven himself to be an arrogant, entitled rich boy who believed he could have anything he wanted.

Including me.

And the worst thing was I’d almost let him do it.

I wrenched myself away from him, so abruptly that I slammed my head against his hand, banging it against the wall in a way that must have hurt his knuckles.

He sucked in a quick breath and pulled his hand away, freeing me from that part of the embrace.

I took two fast steps to the side to pull away from his other arm, until there was more distance between us.

“What the hell?” he asked, looked surprised and bewildered and flushed, as if he’d been as wrapped up in the kiss as I was.

I wiped at my lips with my hand, trying to wipe away the feel of him on me.

It didn’t work. I could still feel him everywhere.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, his expression clearing, as if he’d gotten his mind to work again. He took a step toward me.

I backed away. “Don’t touch me!”

He blinked and froze where he was. “What’s the matter, Ali? Did I hurt you or something? I promise I didn’t mean to. I might have gotten a little carried away, but I don’t think I would have—“

“You didn’t hurt me. Just don’t ever kiss me again.” It was a kind of bleak panic, paired with nauseated disgust, that I’d let myself go so far with a man who I needed to stay away from, who I needed to resent.

“What the hell are you talking about? You were into it too. I didn’t force myself on you.”

“I didn’t say you forced yourself on me. But I know men like you. You think because your daddy is rich you can take anything you want. You think you deserve it just because of who you are. And I’m telling you now that you’ll never have me—so just stay away from me from now on.”

The surprise on his face was transforming to confused indignation. “Where is this coming from? I’ve never done anything to you to deserve that kind of response. If you don’t want to kiss me, then don’t kiss me. Don’t act like I’m pushing myself on a naïve virgin.”

I wasn’t a virgin, but I was pretty inexperienced with men—since I hadn’t done any dating at all in the last few years. That wasn’t the point, though. The point was that he was acting like I was irrational and unfair when he was a Maxwell.

He was a
Maxwell
.

“Just stay away from me,” I gritted out, wiping my mouth again as I tried to pull myself together. I walked quickly toward the door of the room. “Stay away from me.”

He didn’t reply, and he didn’t follow me out.

Maybe he’d gotten the point.

If only I could get the point too.

***

I went back to Cheryl’s office to do some tedious paperwork and try to get my mind off Sebastian. It didn’t work, and it was almost seven when I finally got home.

My dad was sitting in front of the television, as usual. There were only two empty beer bottles on the coffee table, so maybe this would be one of his better days. Tyler wasn’t there. He was almost never at home. I knew he went out with his friends. I knew he drank and got into trouble. I hated it, but there was nothing I could do to stop him. Anything I said to him washed off him like water, barely even leaving him damp.

I gave my dad a greeting, which he grunted in response to. Then I knocked on Rosie’s bedroom.

When she replied, I opened the door and found her reading on her bed, as usual.

“How’s it going?” I asked, coming in to sit on the edge of her bed.

“Fine.” She barely looked up from the book.

“What are you reading?”

She lifted the book so I could read the cover. It was evidently a romance novel by an author I wasn’t familiar with. I hoped it was appropriate for her age level.

“Is it good?” I tried again.

“It’s okay. Kind of silly.”

“Silly in what way?”

“Just the idea that meeting a hot man can totally change your life. It’s like all her problems miraculously get better because this guy falls for her.”

I thought about that for a minute before I responded, “Yeah. I’m glad you don’t think that’s true.”

She snorted and lowered the book. “I’m not stupid, you know. It doesn’t matter how hot the guy is. You’re still stuck with the same crap in your life you had before.”

I was actually astounded by the insight of the remark, however inelegantly it was phrased. I’d always known Rosie was intelligent and good at school—just like me—but she was usually so quiet that I often had no idea what kinds of thoughts she had. “How’d you get to be so smart?”

She just rolled her eyes.

“But it might be nice to have a guy anyway,” I said, remembering how I felt when I was her age, desperately wanting a boyfriend but too embarrassed to admit it.

She rolled her eyes again.

“Is there anyone you like?”

“Not really. They’re all stupid athletes or stupid artsy types or stupid assholes.”

“Surely some of them aren’t stupid.”

“Maybe.” She glanced away, which made me realize there was a guy in particular she was interested in.

“Anyone you can think of?”

“No.”

That meant she wasn’t going to tell me. I felt kind of disappointed, but not surprised.

“If you think guys are so great to have,” Rosie added, her expression changing, “then why don’t you have one?”

I was suddenly uncomfortable in an entirely different way. “What do you mean?”

“Well, if you think I should have a boyfriend—“

“I don’t think you should have—“

She talked on, as if I hadn’t interrupted. “Then why don’t you have one.”

“You don’t just wake up one day and decide to get a boyfriend, you know.”

“I know. But you’re really pretty. I’m sure someone would go out with you if you made yourself available.”

“I don’t have time or interest in going out to clubs and bars and hoping someone will pick me up.”

“Yeah, but there are other things you can do. It’s like you don’t think you deserve it.”

My shoulders stiffened. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know,” she said with a dramatic shrug, picking up her book again. “It’s just like you think you have to be a drudge because all the shitty stuff happened to us, so you won’t do anything that might start to pull yourself out.”

“I’m not going to pull myself out and leave the rest of you behind.” I was hurt that she would even think that.

“I guess.”

The conversation was obviously over, and I was almost relieved. While I was glad Rosie had said a little more than normal, her words left me feeling disoriented and confused.

I didn’t think she was right. I had done everything I reasonably could in the last few years to make a decent life for me and my family. I was even going to great lengths to try now to find evidence that would give my father everything he deserved. There weren’t all these great opportunities that I’d been missing, so Rosie was wrong. Or at least exaggerating.

I patted her leg. “Did you have anything for dinner?”

She shook her head, her eyes focused on the book.

“I’ll fix something now.”

I left the room, closing the door behind me, still feeling kind of shaky and uncertain.

I went to the kitchen and found some pasta and jarred spaghetti sauce, so I cooked it up quickly. Rosie and I ate together—she was reading the whole time—and my dad said he wasn’t hungry so he didn’t leave the television.

After I’d cleaned up, I really wanted to go to bed early, but I sat down in a chair next to my dad’s recliner. He hadn’t drunk as much as normal, so maybe we could have a conversation.

I told him a few things that the school had reported about Rosie and Tyler, just so he’d know what was going on with them. He looked away from the TV long enough to nod at me.

Then, feeling rattled by a very long, strange day, I just blurted out, “I’m working for Ken Gentry.”

My dad blinked and stared at me.

“Not for him, really. I work for Cheryl, but she’s doing a job for Gentry.”

“He has no idea who you are?”

I shook my head. “No, he doesn’t have a clue.”

“Not a surprise. Guys like him only think about the dollar signs.”