Make Me: A Broke and Beautiful Novel (14 page)

He could feel the pulse in her neck racing, beating against the base of his hand. Trapped. He had her trapped, but she liked it. Her hips moved in restless figure eights beneath him, entreating him to thrust. Those heels were doing their thing, trying to find purchase on the backs of his thighs. “You . . .” She sucked in a breath, pushing her pointed tits into his chest. “You said you want to bang my little virgin brains out.”

“
I meant it.
” Attempting to bring himself down from the insane high of hearing those forbidden words out of Abby’s innocent mouth, Russell licked past her lips for a searing kiss. It didn’t work. All he could feel was the hot sensation of her pussy contracting around him. Pulse. Pulse. “Are you doing that? Are you . . .
stop
.”

“No.” Her swallow was audible because of the angle he still held her jaw. “You’re thinking too hard. We both know what . . . what you need. I need to be the one who gives it to you. Don’t take that away from me.” She writhed on the chair, gasping when he tightened his hold automatically.

“
Stay still.
”

He hated the almost total darkness and loved it simultaneously. Wanted to see her face in the light but didn’t want her to see
his
. As he released her jaw and used both hands to pin her, he had to look like an animal. He felt like one. He jerked his hips back and slammed forward, groaning at the welcoming slickness. The narrow perfection of her. Abby’s cry was absorbed by his chest, and fuck, he loved that. Loved looking down and seeing her beneath him, feeling the vibration of his name as it passed her lips.

“
Yes,
” she moaned. “Again.”

If any remaining reservations still had a foothold, they slipped down the slope on which he’d been desperately attempting to balance. He didn’t recognize the words or sounds that left his mouth as he fucked Abby, the girl he loved. Their bodies slid up and down against one another, moving in a frantic rhythm. His cock felt so full already, ready to spill, and Abby did nothing to help postpone the inevitable, wrapping her long legs around him and begging,
begging
. God, she was so gorgeous he couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t deal with her beauty on top of the driving demand to claim her body. Satisfy her. Himself.

Knowing he only had a small window to get her off, Russell released her manacled hands and wedged a forearm beneath her hips. “Tilt them up, angel. Same way you did when I used my mouth. We’re going to find that sweet spot, aren’t we? I might be banging my little virgin, but I’m going to make her come, too. Always. That’s another one of my jobs, and I love it. Your come is mine.”

He broke off into a groan as Abby angled her hips with the aid of his lifting forearm. The new angle brought the base of his length into contact with her clit, and fuck . . . the unsteady whimper of his name almost made him bust. She threw her head back on the chair and started to roll her body, meeting his pumps with incredible accuracy.

Meant to be with her. This was all part of some plan.
His thoughts collided with his heart, sending it speeding out of control.

Abby buried her fingernails into his ass, her thighs beginning to tremble around him. “I’m going to . . . oh my God, don’t stop. I’m . . .”

Russell dropped his head forward and closed his eyes, putting all his focus into staying right where the fuck he was, not deviating from what was pushing her toward a climax. Just a little longer. Just a little—

“
Russell.
”

Holy shit.
His eyes flew open in time to witness Abby’s tits shaking between them, her teeth buried into her bottom lip as she arched on the chair. Her heels had a firm hold at the small of his back as she rode it out, her pussy squeezing him in tiny spasms that he would crave like air for the rest of his time on earth.

He was aching and swollen inside her, seconds from going off. There was no explanation for what he did next, only knew that it felt like a travesty to release into a condom. A waste of what she’d done to him. He wanted to mark her, brand her in a way that she might not understand or might find confusing, but as he pulled out of her still-convulsing body, tore off the condom, and expelled his pleasure on her tits, his brain registered it as something beautiful. Seeing Abby wearing the evidence of how much he’d wanted her for so long, how much he’d want her forever.

After that, his muscles would no longer support him. He went down on an elbow beside Abby, kissing her shoulder until she turned on her side. His eyes searched in the darkness for something to clean her, making out a stack of towels just over their heads. He grabbed the terry-cloth material and ran it down Abby’s front, neck to belly, all the while rubbing his lips over her heated skin.

“Russell?” Her sweet voice glittered in the darkness.

He draped the towel over her body. “What is it, angel?”

For long moment, he could only count her breaths. “We have a lot to talk about, don’t we?”

His pulse tripped as he pulled her close, curved his body around her smaller one.
I’m going to sleep with my girl next to me.
“Yeah. I guess we do.”

Understatement of the year. The list of things they needed to discuss seemed endless. The status of their relationship. Why he’d been pushing her away. How he planned to stop doing that and never let her go. Ever. There was also the nature of their sexual attraction, how they acted on it. He felt an urgency to ensure that his need to . . .
dominate
Abby was always done safely, because if he hurt her—

No. He would never hurt her again.

Not if he could help it.

Chapter 15

A
BBY WOKE UP
feeling a little sticky. And
a lot
amazing.

She lay still without opening her eyes for long minutes, trapping all the sounds and sensations inside a net of coveted recollections. Russell warmed her back, one heavy arm thrown over her hips. Of course, he snored. Like his having chest hair, snoring seemed like something she should have known. But hadn’t
she
always been the one to fall asleep on
him
? Maybe
she
snored and didn’t even know it. She’d have to ask him when he woke up.

Anticipation purred in her bloodstream at the idea of talking to Russell while they were both naked. Hearing what his voice sounded like upon waking.

The smell of ocean and suntan lotion filled her nose as the events of last night projected themselves on the backs of her eyelids. Each image was sharp, their outlines carved out with a box cutter. And each one had the subtitle,
I love Russell.
She did. She’d loved him in different ways for a long time. But
acknowledging
it—defining what she’d been harboring for him all along—made the feeling expand like a fleet of balloons. Big, colorful ones with the ability to carry her across the beach and ocean . . . anywhere she wanted to go.

Abby pressed her fingers against her lips, felt the smile there. Her mouth parted on an intake of breath when the sensitivity between her thighs registered. Finally, her eyes opened and immediately fell upon the light bruises circling her wrists. Why did seeing the shaded marks send a feather tickling down the center of her belly? No, she
knew
now. Knew the reason imagining gentle, straightforward sex had never excited her. Why she’d always felt safer with her confusing fantasies of being taken
hard
. Restrained. They weren’t confusing anymore. At least, they were beginning to define themselves with every experience between her and Russell.

Were his sexual preferences the reason he’d been keeping her at a distance? Abby brushed her lips over a thumb-sized bruise on her wrist. Of course, this man who spent an inordinate amount of time worrying for her safety would hate the idea of being aggressive with her. Or, hate the idea that he
liked
it, more accurately. Abby let out a relieved breath. Now that she knew what he’d been battling, she could play defense.

Testing her well-used muscles, Abby felt a flush infuse her neck as she encountered the sticky feeling once again. Another, larger feather licked down her middle.
Russell looming above her, growling as he marked her.
She couldn’t wait to do it again. Today. This morning. Now.

She lifted Russell’s arm off her body and sat up, noticing traces of blood on her inner thighs. Before they talked or touched each other again, she needed a shower. Maybe it was ridiculous to feel self-conscious around the man who’d been present for the cause. She’d have to work on that but felt no pressure to accomplish any more milestones at the moment, having reached a huge one last night.

Abby laid the towel over Russell, muffling a laugh when his snoring amplified. She picked up another towel and wrapped it around herself, hoping no one would spy her on the short trek back to the house. Southampton residents typically didn’t rise this early, so she was probably safe. She’d shower, change, grab a set of clothes for Russell, and be back with coffee before he even woke up.

Refusing to dim the wattage of her smile, Abby fairly danced out of the cabana and speed-walked along the beach, ascending the staircase like she had springs on her feet. She would have to be quiet in the house. Her friends were no doubt still asleep, preparing to wake up with hangovers in a couple hours. A large part of her was glad she’d have a chance to talk with Russell before seeing Honey or Roxy again. They would no doubt have questions, and she couldn’t wait to have answers, for once.

She reached the gate at the estate’s edge, swung it open and stepped onto the paved driveway, but drew up short when she saw Mitchell, leaning against the trunk of his car. The towel around her suddenly felt flimsy, transparent. There was nothing sexual about the way he perused her, only businesslike. Practical. But it didn’t make her feel any less exposed.

“What are you still doing here?” She was pleased at the strength in her voice, despite the awkward situation. “Did I miss a signature page?”

When he remained tight-lipped, she thought he wasn’t going to answer. Finally, his lips lifted into a smile that didn’t go near his eyes. “Car trouble, actually. The repair company just left. I was about to head back to Manhattan.”

She shook her head, eyeing the brand-spanking-new Mercedes. “Car trouble.” Her fingers curled into the top of the towel, grateful it covered her past the knee. “Did you sleep in your car?”

“Yes.” He sauntered toward her. “I had a funny feeling your friends weren’t going to let me into the house.”

“You’re probably right.” A ditch formed in her stomach when Mitchell’s attention caught on her wrists. “I’m going to head in now.”

That creepy smile of his stayed in place as he nodded. “That’s probably a good idea.” He inclined his head. “We’ll keep this between you and me. No need to worry your mother, right?”

A sour taste permeated Abby’s mouth. She wanted to curse him straight to hell, but getting into the house was the more desirable outcome. A back-and-forth between them would prevent that. God, she hated that he’d ruined her morning. She just wanted to forget this encounter had ever happened and get back down to the beach. “Thanks, Mitchell,” she muttered, skirting past him toward the house.

She waited just inside the front door until she heard his car pull away before tiptoeing up the stairs.

R
USSELL SHOT FORWARD
in a panic, searching the cabana with frantic eyes. He shouldn’t be by himself. Abby’s sweet, warm body had been tucked up against him all night. He knew that because he’d woken up several times, convinced he’d been dreaming. But no. No, she’d been there, sighing in her sleep, letting him smell her hair, run hands up and down her thighs, shoulders, and belly. It had been the best night of his twenty-seven years, and he had
not
goddamn imagined it.

When he spied her bathing suit on the ground, he pressed two fingers against his forehead and breathed. Where had she gone? Why hadn’t she woken him up? Didn’t she know how he’d react to her disappearing?

Calm down and go find her.
This fear that threatened wasn’t just a product of his panic. Abby hadn’t been hurt last night. If she had, could she have slept beside him so trusting and peaceful? The memory of her feet tucked between his calves sent warmth soaring into his chest, saving it from freezing into a block of ice. Okay. As soon as he saw her, kissed her forehead, everything would be fine. They would talk about everything. There was no room for secrets when he felt so close to her. She’d set his fears to rest about his physical urges, but the money issue would be no different. And he would believe her when she inevitably told him their future was
theirs
to decide because she believed in him. She’d trusted him with her body, and he’d beg that she do the same with her heart.

Crazy how one night could change everything. But it had. A clarity had stormed into his consciousness, wrought by his connection to Abby. Nothing was insurmountable as long as they could make each other feel as alive as they’d been last night. He’d live his life to make that happen.

Russell whipped the discarded board shorts off the ground, gained his feet, and pulled them on, halfway out of the cabana before he’d fully tied them. He saw the Yankees shirt, crumpled in the sand and decided to leave it there, liking the reminder of what had ultimately brought them together staying right where it was. When he reached the top of the staircase, his mind was already on what he’d make Abby for breakfast. She liked sweet stuff, like French toast—

“Mr. Hart.”

Russell came to a halt on the road, so immersed in thoughts of Abby, it took him a moment to place the man, standing inside the door of his running Mercedes. Mitchell, the lawyer. What the hell was he still doing here?

He must have asked the question out loud because the guy smirked. “You know why the Sullivan family pays me so well?” He drummed his fingers on the car’s roof. “I make sure problems don’t present themselves. And when they do, I make them go away. I’m really fucking good at it, too.”

Showing no outward reaction, Russell couldn’t help being surprised at the expletive coming from the polished lawyer. Or maybe he shouldn’t be surprised at all. “Is there a reason you think I give a shit?”

“There’s a good reason for everything I say and do.”

Russell almost looked up, positive he would see an axe materialize in the air. Intuition was like spikes flowing through his veins. He glanced over Mitchell’s shoulder toward the house, praying he’d see Abby, but there was no one. Jesus, where had she gone? “If what you have to say is so important, get to it.”

The look that crossed the lawyer’s face said he was enjoying this. “Ran into Abby a few minutes ago.” With those words, Russell’s dread shifted and escalated into rage. She’d gone to that beach last night dressed in nothing but a swimsuit. A swimsuit he’d seen on the floor of the cabana. Meaning this fucker had seen her in . . . what? The possibilities made his eyes burn.

Russell struggled for a modicum of composure, but the effort was useless. “If you even spoke to her, I’d be worried.”

“I did. Speak to her.” A too-long pause ensued. “You bruise up a lot of girls, Hart?”

He was instantly winded, unable to catch a breath. That axe above him didn’t just drop, it hacked away at him.
Hacked, hacked, hacked
, severing internal organs without mercy. Somehow, the guy knew his last name, but it was only a dim realization, swallowed up in the earlier statement. “What . . . what are you talking about?”

“Look, buddy.” Mitchell held up both hands, like they could have an honest exchange after the bomb he’d just dropped on Russell’s very existence. “I’m here as the fixer. As understandably upset as she was, Abby obviously needs one—”

“She was upset?” The words fell out of Russell’s mouth and splintered into fragments on the ground, alongside his heart. Had he been wrong about the connection . . . the understanding between them? She’d enjoyed what they’d done, hadn’t she? He wracked his mind, attempting to remember what she’d said in the darkness, before they fell asleep.
We have a lot to talk about, don’t we?
Christ, that could mean
anything
. Images assaulted him. Abby’s jaw in his grip. Her hands imprisoned over her head. The way he’d pulled out and bathed her in his release.

His knees felt weak with the need to give out. Was there a man of sound mind on this planet that would do those things to a virgin? No.
No
. . . he’d done it all wrong. He’d hurt her. Hurt Abby.
God, oh God, oh God.

“Where did she go?” Russell managed.

“Probably somewhere you can’t hurt her again.” Mitchell rounded the car at a casual pace, reaching into his pocket and removing a wallet. “And I’m going to make sure it stays that way.”

Russell felt the horror down to his toes when the man presented him with a fist full of what looked like hundred-dollar bills. “What the fuck is that?”

Mitchell attempted to look sympathetic, but satisfaction was written all over his face. “We both know Abby is a good person. She wanted you to have this. For that construction company you’re trying to get off the ground.” The green bills were thrust in his direction. As if he would take them. Christ, he could barely stand the sight of them. Or the knowledge that he’d lost. He hadn’t been good enough for her. No, it was worse than that. He’d . . . injured her. Ruined a night that should have been special. Maybe traumatized her forever. He deserved to feel like his stomach was being stomped on by baseball cleats. Deserved
far
worse.

True to form, she was
still
trying her best to help him, trying to help him succeed even thought he’d wronged her. That’s why she was the best. That’s what made her Abby. And he needed to get as far away from her as possible, for her sake. It’s what the man who loved her should do—and he loved her so much he was struggling not to lie down in the road and demand this asshole drive over him with that fucking Mercedes. The symbol of everything he’d never be able to give Abby.

“I don’t want your money,” Russell choked out. “Or Abby’s money, for Chrissakes.”

The other man shrugged. “Fair enough.” He pocketed the bills. “How about a ride back to the city?”

“Go fuck yourself. I’ll take the bus.”

Russell stood frozen on the road until the Mercedes drove out of sight. Then he bent at the waist and dry heaved over the sandy road.

A
BBY BOUNDED DOWN
the stairs, taking them two at a time. In the space of twenty minutes, she’d showered, changed, and answered five emails. Wonder of wonders, they hadn’t even stressed her out. Would anything ever stress her out again? Her body felt so deliciously utilized, her vocal cords just raw enough to give her a smoky sex voice, a discovery she’d made while attempting to sing in the shower. A long-sleeved swim cover-up handily concealed the bruising on her wrists, but she liked knowing they were there. Like a naughty secret, reminding her how much she’d been wanted. She’d never had one of those before.

Her progress came to an abrupt stop at the base of the staircase. Having snuck in as quietly as possible, she’d expected everyone to still be sleeping. But there was the super group, standing in the living room, looking as if they’d been caught talking about something uncomfortable. Most of them, anyway. Honey and Roxy were still in their pajamas, hair unbrushed. Ben and Louis wouldn’t even look at her. Trying to ignore the beginnings of alarm, Abby ran a hand down her ponytail and scanned the space for Russell but didn’t see him.

“Hey.” Abby headed toward the kitchen, well aware she was making an escape. From what, though, she didn’t know. Didn’t want to. “I was just about to make some coffee.”