Make Me (Broke and Beautiful #3)(55)

“Ashamed,” Honey supplied. “Used. Cast aside.”

“Please.” He felt gutted. “I only ever wanted her to be happy.”

Roxy and Honey deflated a little. “She’s her happiest with you, Russell. That’s always been the case. Even we can’t compete,” Roxy said, unhooking the apartment key from her key ring and sliding it across the table. “Don’t make me regret this.”

Russell’s chair was still wobbling when he vanished through the exit.

ABBY PULLED THE white sundress over her head as steam filled the bathroom. For once, the silence in the apartment was welcome. It matched the peace and quiet finally permeating her head after weeks of whizzing numbers and fear of failure. The corkscrew twisting into her temples from either side was gone . . . and she’d been the one to untwist it. She felt . . . proud of herself. Like right at that moment, she could fight a war and emerge victorious.

If her new, extra headspace allowed her other troubles to loom larger, that would change. Wouldn’t it? Russell’s abandonment and five-day silence had been sharing brain capacity with finding a way free of the company, all while maintaining the status quo at the office so as not to alert anyone of upcoming changes. Now the stark reminders of his absence rushed in to claim all the free real estate in her consciousness.

Determined to ride the high of what she’d accomplished that morning, Abby lifted her chin and went to work unclasping her bra, letting it fall at her feet. The heat from the shower steam attempting to ease the soreness in her neck and back, wrought from weeks over the computer. She tipped her head back and closed her eyes, breathing deeply—

Abby’s spine snapped straight when she heard a creak outside the bathroom door. The steam went from comforting to a sight deterrent in a split second, her heart hammering as she whipped her attention toward the partially open door. Had she locked the front door? Dammit. She couldn’t remember. And her roommates weren’t due home until much later. Not to mention, they would call out to inform her of their presence, to save her the heart attack.

She started to reach for a towel. “Hello?”

Had the door moved?

“Abby. Can we talk?”

Her breath hitched, several emotions flooding her at once. Surprise. Awareness. Russell was right outside the bathroom, where she stood naked. She hated that a handful of gruff words from his mouth made her nipples tighten. What was he doing here? Frustration surged . . . and it surged hard. The anger at Russell she’d only just begun to process joined forces with the sexual energy his presence created. Whatever the reason, he was here? She didn’t want to know. Just like she’d done this morning, she wanted to control this. To win the war. He couldn’t come here and set her back like this. She wouldn’t let him.

I’m sorry.

Abby saw the note he’d left in her mind’s eye. She didn’t want his pity. She wanted him to know how being left behind hurt. So she’d show him.

A frisson of alarm uncoiled in her belly when she caught sight of herself in the mirror. There was determination, sadness, lust. She could push open the door and walk into Russell’s arms, as her instincts dictated. Might have followed through, too, if he hadn’t hurt her so badly. But no. She refused to open herself up that way again.

With a deep breath, Abby pulled open the door, feeling the steam curl around her as Russell came into view. He fell back a step, the key in his hand dropping to the floor. “Oh God, angel.” His gaze moved down her body, growing hungrier with every inch of flesh he covered. “Please. Go back in the bathroom. I-I’ll wait until you’re done.”

His reaction made her a seductress for the first time in her life . . . and that power was an immediate addiction. It blew out the twin flames of dread and doubt, replacing them with a roaring blaze of want. Want she could assuage on her own terms. “Come with me,” she murmured, the invitation twining with the steam. “Otherwise, you’ll be waiting a while.” Thrilled by her own boldness, Abby trailed a hand down her belly. “I’m going to be very thorough.”

Russell’s entire body visibly trembled. “You have every right to punish me, but I’m too weak right now to handle this.” His tone reminded her of torn-up concrete. “Five days is a long f*cking time without you. I needed to see how you are . . . if you’re still tired. Still working too much. I came here to hear your voice.”

God, she loved this man. Odd that her heart would pick this moment of asserting her independence to remind her. Odd and unacceptable. There it was, though. This bone-deep knowledge that if she could be this furious with him while still aching to hold him close and soothe his sadness . . . it was real, bone-deep love. The kind that would never go away unless she did something about it. Her heart told her to step back and examine the situation from all angles before trying to exorcise Russell’s hold on her, but the newfound stubbornness that had served her so well of late smothered the inclination.

Abby tossed her hair and sailed toward Russell, who backed away with an expression that said he knew resistance was futile. When she slid a hand into the front waistband of his jeans and walked them backwards, toward the bathroom, he came as if in a trance. “We need to talk, Abby.”

They entered the bathroom, both of them immediately enveloped in steam. She used her free hand to close the door, then pushed Russell’s big frame up against it. “Let’s get the fun part out of the way first.” She slipped her hands beneath his T-shirt and scratched his abs with her fingernails before dragging them lower, lower, and unfastening his belt. His erection was prominent beneath her hands, and she reveled in knowing the attraction ran deep, even if it was where their relationship ended. “Five days is a long time.” She inwardly cursed at the quaver in her voice. “How are you going to make up for it?”