NICE GIRL TO LOVE (THE COMPLETE THREE-BOOK COLLECTION)(23)

Christ, it was sweet.

With hands unsteady with lust, his fingers sank into her lush curves, sealing her tight against him as he pushed harder against her core. Every quick, broken cry she couldn’t hold in was like a homing beacon, steering him as he nudged his erection higher, slipping over the one spot that effectively scattered her voice, hijacked her breathing and compelled her to all but ride him as he did his best to simply hold on and take stock of what little control he had left.

“Touch me,” she whispered.

His restraint snapped.

He slid a hand under the hem of her t-shirt, undid her bra and pushed the offensive thing out of his way. Skimming her shirt up slowly, his lips soon broke away from hers on a groan. Plump and ripe, she filled his hand and then some. She was perfection. Softly rounded and feminine, just like the rest of her. Delicate. Sexy.

He had to taste her.

“No, wait.” It came out as a raw, almost inaudible whimper. “Stop.”

For one horrifying moment, he truly thought he wouldn’t be able to. Jaw clenched, eyes shut tight, he forced in an unsteady breath and somehow managed to inch back at the very last second with a ragged curse that blew hot and harsh across her pale pink skin.

She cried out. The sensation making her arch and send her taut nipple grazing against lips.

He wasn’t strong enough.

A better man could’ve fought the temptation but not him. Not now. Not when it came to Abby. Groaning, he lashed his tongue out and dragged it over the sensitive peak awaiting him. Once. Twice.

She asked you to stop.

He yanked himself back, panting, appalled at his lack of restraint, appalled that even amidst his self-flogging, his mind was still a tornado of images all locked on him taking her right there on the counter, over and over until stopping was the last thing either of them would be capable of. Until they burned through whatever this was building between them. And then instantly started all over again.

Holy shit. He curled his hands into fists and kept his eyes off her naked breasts, away from everything he couldn’t have, so goddamn close he could taste it.

Did taste it…for three mind-bending seconds.

“I…” she began, crossing an arm over her chest.

“No need to explain,” he cut in, voice strained. “I told you to tell me if you wanted to stop.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, trying like hell to punch out some space for his raging hard-on. “I better go up and get changed for dinner.”

A tiny, trembling hand on his arm prevented his escape. “I’m so sorry, Connor. I’m not trying to be a tease or anything, I swear. I just need to stick to something when I say I will. Especially this something.”

“Forget about it,” his voice gentled. “Don’t apologize for saying no, Abby. You can always, always say no.”

Her hand fell away. And something in her silence made him study her face closely. “Honey? Are you okay?”

“That’s just it. Just because I can doesn’t mean I always did. Which is why I need to stick to these two weeks.” She shook her head sadly. “You wouldn’t understand.”

No, he was starting to get that he didn’t understand anything fully when it came to Abby, when it came to what was clearly more than just the game of wits and stamina he’d thought it to be.

“Then why don’t you explain it to me, sweetheart.”




“IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT, you know,” she teased with a rueful shrug, trying to make light of the situation, knowing that she now had Connor’s undivided attention. “I’ve never had a problem sticking to my guns until now. That’s why I made that stupid wager with you. Because I got cocky with an undefeated record that’s spanned over thirteen years.”

Abby gazed at him, at the concern she saw etched in his beautiful features. For years now, she’d watched him from afar, always knowing whenever he was really concerned about something because his eyes would go from its normally intense pale blue to the softest gray, usually when he was looking at Beth and Brian.

She’d never, ever wanted those gray eyes aimed her way.

Too late now.

“You joke about my being such a nice girl. But I wasn’t always. In high school, I was the furthest thing from it.”

At his disbelieving expression, she scoffed. “Believe me, it’s true. Till my sophomore year, I was just me. Just Abby. A nothing, really...until one guy told me he saw me as something.” She exhaled softly. “It was the prototypical teen dream—an older, popular, incredibly hot guy looking at me in ways no one ever had before. And he was exciting. Not because he was some rebel without a clue, either. In fact, he was actually top of the senior class and an all-star athlete to boot. Your basic high school stud, really…who had it bad for corrupting good little girls.”

Feeling Connor tense, she looked away, afraid of what she’d see in his expression. “Seemed everyone but me knew how much he got off on finding the most pristine girls and turning them into playthings that would do anything he asked.”

“That was me my junior year. At first, it was only a little dominant play here and there. Nothing major. Kind of fun, in fact. But then a month or so in, he started pushing me past my comfort zone more and more, but just a little at a time.” She fiddled with her pan of spanakopita. “I remember, actually, exactly when it was that he’d started pushing. We were hanging out with his friends one night and he asked me to flash everyone, just once, to ‘show them how hot his girl was.’ I didn’t want to. And I’d felt so young and silly for saying no. Mostly because he’d seemed so matter-of-fact about it, so shocked when I didn’t do it right away.” She shook her head at the memory. “When I looked over and saw him looking so completely disappointed by my refusal, I just...shut out that voice in my head yelling no and simply yanked up my top and bra without thinking. After his friends finished hooting and hollering, he spent the entire rest of the night treating me like a princess. And I remember distinctly feeling like what I’d done had been totally worth it.”