Make Me (Broke and Beautiful #3)(59)

Her voice vibrated as she bounced. “Please, can I have it?”

“This?” He reached around and found her clit, teased the bud with his middle finger. “You want this?”

“Yes,” she whimpered, imploring his reflection. “But I want . . . I want you to use your hand on me. I can tell . . . can tell you want it.”

Russell cursed at the realization that his left hand held her ass in a punishing grip, to prevent himself from spanking that supple flesh. Fuck, the sight, her request, made him thrust all the harder. “No. Not until I know how not to hurt you.”

She fell forward onto the sink, bracing herself on two elbows. “Please.”

Slap. Slapslapslap. The pinpricks of disappointment in his lack of restraint were eclipsed by Abby’s response. She moaned, body writhing as the flesh that held him captive tightened on his cock, shaking the climax right out of him. Demanding he follow her into the oblivion she created. Russell buried his forehead into her upper back and growled as achy pressure drained from below his waist. His arms banded around Abby, dragging her upright. Absorb her. Crawl inside her. Mine. Mine. Can’t get close enough. Love her. Love her so much.

ABBY CAME BACK to reality by degrees. Since that night at the beach, she’d been blocking the memory of what her body felt like postsex. Well used. Replete. Satiated. It was almost as good as the act itself because relief blanketed her mind, the pleasure of satisfying herself, satisfying a man making her limbs heavy. A smile curved her mouth. And there was the knowledge that another buildup would start right away, leading to more. More of Russell inside her.

One emotion she hadn’t blocked successfully throughout the last five days? Love. That love for Russell had manifested itself in anger. Drive to break free of the debilitating work cycle. But it had been there, pushing at the backs of her eyelids, swimming in her stomach. Love so tangible that it eddied around her ankles, rising and rising like a warm current until she started to spin with it in slow circles. She wanted to throw her hands up to the sky and demand rain. It made no sense, and it also made her want to laugh.

But there was something. A tenacious . . . something, pacing in the background. Russell’s words echoed as they’d done in the shower, pinging off the insides of her skull before finally sticking. Everything is going to be okay now, Abby. No more games, okay? Everything is fixed now, okay? Before today, she’d known Russell was holding back something from her. She’d known. It was a familiar feeling.

And she’d grown sick of it. Resentful, even. This morning had been her first step toward never feeling in the dark again. Taking control of her future. Owning her actions instead of other people’s owning them for her. Hearing that Russell had “fixed” everything and it would all be okay . . . God, she was afraid to hear the rest. They had no choice but to talk about it, though. Impending dread made the bathroom seem darker, the steam thicker. Abby wanted to stay wrapped in his arms forever, but the longer she did, her chances of staying strong began to wane.

She laid a kiss on his bicep and eased away, wrapping a towel around her body on the way to shutting off the shower water. Feeling Russell’s eyes on her, she pushed open the fogged-glass window to let the steam out and turned to face him. “I’m ready to talk now.”

“Okay.” He stood very still, obviously not caring about his nudity. Really, his confidence was entirely justified. It took a considerable effort on Abby’s part not to stare at his sculpted thighs, his ridged abdomen. He was incredible, but his expression was anything but cocky. No, he looked wary. “You going to stand across the room while we talk, Abby? Because I have to tell you, it makes me nervous. Makes me wonder if you’re going to listen.”

“I’m listening.” She pushed her wet hair back, an attempt to distract herself from the foreboding using her heart as a trampoline. “But if you hold me while we talk, it could turn out different.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” He stooped down and grabbed his boxer briefs, cursed to find them still damp, and dragged his jeans on without underwear. His forehead was marred as he completed the jerky actions, as if mentally preparing. When the task was complete, he faced her, bare-chested. “I got the business loan. I took your suggestion and reworked my ten-year plan into five—and I got it.”

“Oh my God.” Giant bird wings flapped in her chest. Happiness for her friend, and the man she loved. “That’s amazing. Why didn’t you say—” She pressed both hands to her cheeks. “You must be so excited. All the ways you can improve and expand. I—”

“Abby.” He looked almost pained by her enthusiasm. “I did it for us. Maybe it makes me an underachiever, but the business is a distant second to you. Everything is.”

“I don’t understand,” she murmured, even though the picture was beginning to clear, just like the fog in the bathroom. “For us?”

His chest rose and fell with a heavy intake of breath. A bracing breath. “I know what kind of life you’re used to, angel. Comfortable. Happy. I can give it to you now, okay? I couldn’t before, so I kept away. Kept you away. Just until I was sure. I needed to be sure.” He took a step closer. “But I fixed everything. I’m going to work hard and give you everything you could ever ask for. If you’ll just trust me and give me the chance.”

It was almost too much to process at once, but some part of her had been prepared. With each realization that rushed in, she berated herself for not seeing. Not knowing. “Russell . . . I don’t need the kind of life my parents have. I don’t want it—”