Breaking Stone: Bad Boy Romance Novel (18 page)

N
o condom
! What the fuck was going on in my head? I’d never made a mistake like that in my life, no matter how tempting it was to go bare. Nothing was worth the risk of having some girl turn up with a baby Stone. A pebble! I was incapable of parenthood. I’d fuck it up worse than my parents had, and there wasn’t another child in the world who deserved that shit.

Bareback with Katrina. The memory of it still weakened me. An image of her swollen with my baby came to my mind, and the thrill it gave me was fucking unnerving. I might thrive on adrenalin and danger, but that sort of shit was permanent. You didn’t jump out of a plane for a lifelong fall. You wanted it over, to hit the ground while the big buzz chemicals were still pumping around your body.

I had to be more careful. And that way Katrina looked at me, that sexy glance right into my eyes while my cock was in her mouth...that had to stop. It was new, fresh, and I was taking her on a short trip of a lifetime. Making her day, every day, for a few weeks...that’s what this was about. Then I’d send her packing with my manuscript in her messenger bag, and we’d wave goodbye at the station and move on with our lives.

I heaved out a breath, relieved I’d brought some order to the crazy shit that had just blown my mind apart.

Everything was good until she came out of the bathroom. Hair all styled in cute long curls, jeans hugging her gorgeous round ass, a soft silk blouse that draped over the world’s most perfect tits. She paused, seeing my face, no doubt. Seeing the fucking lust I couldn’t control.

“Do I look okay?”

“No, fuck, Poppins, that’s a terrible get-up. Everyone’s going to see how gorgeous you are and try to steal you away from me.”

Ahh, Jesus, the blush. When was she going to get some control over that lava-lamp thing her skin did, the cute color change that sang to me?

She looked happy, though.

I kissed her, drawing the outline of her lips with my tongue, tasting the sweetness of the gloss she’d painted on and the even more delicious sweetness that was explicitly her. I hadn’t experienced these feelings before. I didn’t want to share Katrina with anyone.

I had to shut this crazy shit down. A night out with Rip would be perfect for that. I’d remember all the stuff we’d done together, he’d point out the girls who’d be up for a long night on their hands and knees...the bait fish to his predator shark ways. That’s what we used to do. Walk into a bar, and the girls would get all edgy, gathering in their little groups until a couple of the less cautious fish broke away from the school.

We’d cut them off and work our magic. Tag and release, Rip liked to call it. Strange that I couldn’t get excited about that now.

Rip sat in the bar, nursing a beer and talking to three women. He left them when we entered, gave Katrina an appreciative eye-sweep of attention, then settled. Just as well. I’d take his fucking head off if he tried anything stupid.

“Italian tonight. I’ve got us a table at Prego. We can walk.”

There was a music festival on that weekend, and the streets were crowded with people in varying states of exhilaration and intoxication. The restaurant should only have been a ten-minute stroll away, but by the time we got there, Rip had signed t-shirts, arms, a very expensive handbag, and more than one breast. He’d just come off a successful television series, and his looks and casual charm made him a star.

Fans had made so many selfie requests #RipRoaringRhodeIs would be trending all over social media. Made a change from #SexingWithStone.

Okay, so I had my own selfie and autograph requests, but I tried to stay in the shadows with Katrina.

Dinner went well. Rip charmed Katrina and stayed away from reminiscing about our whoring days. When we left the restaurant, he headed in the opposite direction to us with a couple of girls, one of whose breast I’m sure he’d graffitied with a Sharpie pen only hours earlier.

Katrina and I swayed back to the room. Not drunk, just a loose, comfortable wander along the sidewalk, dodging people and dogs, making me wish Buster were here with us, checking out trash and mugging pedestrians for a taste of whatever food they carried.

Katrina tugged my sleeve, bringing us to a halt. “I’ve had an amazing day. Thank you.”

Her eyes shone, her smile genuine and grateful. I had to push away the feeling that I didn’t deserve her, that I was going to take her goodness and destroy it the same way her mother tried to wreck every good thing that came Katrina’s way.

I hung my arm over her shoulder and started walking. “I had a good day, too, made better by you getting into the water with the sharks. Made better still by the wetsuit. I think I’ve developed a neoprene fetish.”

Katrina giggled.

An idea grew. It was probably foolish, but I wanted to do something else for Katrina. I’m not sure if I was feeling some sort of guilt, knowing that she probably hoped this thing we had going would continue beyond her assignment, because it couldn’t. We had to part before I fucked it up and filled her with hate and hurt. I’d never managed to keep anything going once the buzz fizzled out, and I hated the drama that went on when you tried to prop up a collapsing relationship. My parents fed off that sort of shit. Their constant collapsing became the foundation of their marriage, and it simply poisoned everything around them. I found it unnecessary and draining.

“Why don’t I come to lunch with you tomorrow? I can meet your family, deflect some of the attention.”

“No. No, bad idea, Stone. Mom doesn’t know I’m working with you, and if she knew the kind of stuff you write, she’d probably lock you in a room and get the minister over to pray for you or perform an exorcism.”

“Come on, Poppins, she can’t be that bad. I’ll charm her.”

“You’ll scandalize her, and me.”

“You’re ashamed of me,” I teased, tugging her out of the path of two kids on skateboards. Katrina tumbled against me, stopping again.

“She’ll break what we have, Stone. It will obsess her until she does because she can’t bear for me to be happy unless it’s under her control.”

“What about your father?”

“He’s a peacekeeper. He goes around patching things up. As a teenager, I thought he was weak, but now I see how dedicated he was to my wellbeing. He can’t fix things, but he can make them better. Plus, Clarissa will be back from theological college, so the entire meal will be unbearable.”

“I’m pretty tough. My own parents are utterly appalling.”

“You don’t say a lot about them.”

We’d started walking again, and I took a moment, wondering how much I should share. Not much, I decided. “They’re self-obsessed, and neglectful. That’s probably all you need to know.”

“What a pair we are.”

“We’re all right,” I said, pulling her to me.
For a few more weeks, at least.

Back in the hotel room, I could hear Katrina running water in the bathroom basin. Probably brushing her teeth. I went in and found her rinsing. She wiped her mouth, smiling at me in the mirror.

“Did I tell you I made this other list?” I asked.

She frowned.

“No, I didn’t think so. It’s the one where we tick off all the different ways and places we’ve had sex. There’s something else we have to tick off.” I had her pressed up against the vanity, our eyes locked in the mirror. “I recall asking if that pretty blush bloomed when you orgasmed.”

“Stone—”

I covered her mouth with my hand to silence her. “I suggested an orgasm in front of a mirror so that we could both see.” I undid the knot on her bathrobe and let it fall open, cupping the soft curves of her breasts. “These, Poppins, are fucking magnificent.”

She giggled. “You’re welcome.”

In a quick move, I jerked the robe off her shoulders so that her arms were trapped behind her back and I’d bared the front of her body. “So, you see, right down here...” I dragged my fingers over her soft belly and cupped the mound of her pussy. “Hidden between your legs is a gorgeous, hot...let me check.” I drew a finger between her lips and pushed it inside her. “Very wet pussy. It’s a fucking glorious pussy, tight and ready for my cock. I love the way it pulses when you come.”

We eyed each other in the mirror. “There, look, a rosy tinge to your cheeks. Let’s see what happens now.”

Her smile was long and genuine, and I don’t know what she did, but somehow, it drew a cloak of comfort around my heart. My bad boy reputation was fast disappearing, so I did the one thing I knew I could do to protect myself. I took it back to the sex—the physical thing I was confident I could overwhelm her with—and pushed the dangerous feels aside. I don’t know when my heart had decided to join in the action, because judging by this new thing I felt, it had never stepped up to be counted before.

My thumb circled her clit, two fingers inside the furnace of her pussy.

“You’re on fire.”

She sank against me and I held her tight, sliding one hand up her neck, holding her chin high, making sure she stayed with that connection we had in the mirror.

“It’s gonna happen fast, Poppins. Brace yourself.”

She blinked, then closed her eyes.

“Uh-uh. Eyes open. We’re both watching here.”

In such a short time, I knew what made her tick. I worked my fingers deviously, finding the hotspots that would send her over the edge. With my mouth at her ear, I talked up her arousal.

“So wet, and swollen. Are you ready to come?”

“Please,” she murmured on a long exhale.

Her body trembled against mine, and just to prove that I probably knew her body better than she did, I ran her up the steep path of arousal and held her in a state, edging her between the high-point and that explosion of relief.

She was begging, fucking pleading and moaning to be allowed to come. I can’t believe the change in her over not much more than a day.

“I’ve changed my mind. Not so fast after all, not for your climax. I might just keep you like this, see if I can make you pass out from pleasure and drop limp in my arms while your body begs for relief. Fuck, the insides of your thighs are covered in pussy juice. When we’re done here, I’m going to lick you clean, then lick your pussy until you come again. Think you can handle that?”

A guttural noise came from her throat. I felt it rumble against my hand, heard its desperation, but I still wouldn’t let her come.

“Open your eyes.”

Her lids flew open, dilated pupils looking wildly from my hand between her legs, then back to my face.

“Are you ready?” I teased.

“Yes...do it.”

“Do what?”

“Make me come. Please, Stone, I think I’m dying.”

I forced a third finger into her pussy, and she grunted, then clamped down on it. Her clit was a plump grape under my thumb. I finger-fucked her harder, faster, and her hips bucked against my hand.

My cock cursed me. I wanted to fuck her so badly, but I wanted to do this, too. She was shaking all over, and I’d probably taken her to the limit of her endurance, so I rubbed her harder, faster with my hand and let her come. God, she was impressive. Her head fell back, knocking against my chin as she let out a long wail of relief. Her pussy just about crushed my fingers, and I was soaked to my wrist with her juices. Finally, I had to steady her as her knees weakened and I continued to hold her in front of the mirror until her breathing steadied.

When she finally opened her eyes, I gave her back that big grin.

“That was interesting,” I told her. “You could blush for the virgins of the world with that performance. Chest, neck, face...these pretty ears,” I said, giving one a nip and making her jump, “all crimson. I’m glad we’ve answered that question.”

“Don’t ever do that again. I thought I would literally explode.”

“Mission accomplished. Let’s get you some water and a chocolate. You’ll be ready for round two in no time.”

I woke the following morning curled behind Katrina, my insatiable hard cock nestled against her warm ass. I gripped it, gently rubbing the head against her pussy until she murmured and opened for me. We rocked slowly, a lazy Sunday morning fuck that would work perfectly for me on every other day of the week, too.

I was pissed off she had to go off to that lunch with her ugly sounding mother, when we could have had a long morning in bed and a leisurely brunch before catching the train. Instead, we rushed through a shower together and a room service breakfast before heading out of the hotel.

Katrina had distracted me to the extent that I was completely off my guard when we stepped out to the street.

The camera clicks gave me a split-second alert before the first question was shouted at me.

“Mr. Logan, can you tell us when you got back together with Lily Clarke?”

T
he questions fired
at Stone fell on top of each other until they became a single jumbled noise. Within all that sound, the only words I could recognize was the name, Lily Clarke.

It actually took me a few seconds to work out what was going on. The group of journalists, the cameras, the passersby stopping, lingering on the sidewalk, diving into handbags and jacket pockets to retrieve phones that would record the events. Later, they’d replay, work out who the celebrity was, and if deemed worthy, share it online with some witty or scathing hashtag.

My mouth gaped for too long, and Stone grabbed my arm, steering me past the reporters.

“I have no comment,” he said through clenched teeth. Anger poured off him as he all but jumped in front of a taxi, flung open the door, and hustled me inside. The volume of questions didn’t lower until he closed the door. He barked a request to be taken to the station, muttered fuck several times, then stared out the window.

He’d been on the phone this morning when I’d come out from the shower. Could that have been Lily? Was he actually back with her?

“What’s going on, Stone?”

“No fucking idea. Sorry you had to go through that. Welcome to a glimpse of my public life.”

A wave of nausea hit me and I swallowed quickly, kept my breath steady until it passed.

“You must have some idea. I mean, the press wouldn’t just turn up like that.”

He shot me a scathing look, then switched his focus to the town sliding past the taxi window.

Something big had sparked the media and sent them in search of him. I decided to work on that, something solid to deal with rather than the doubts and horror I was feeling. But it was hard to suppress the gnawing feeling of having been stupid and used. What exactly had I imagined when I’d begun this weekend and ended up in Stone’s bed? That he really did have romantic feelings for me?

I opened the browser on my phone and had my answer in seconds. “Oh...okay, I see what’s happening.” My hands shook.

“Tell me.”

“Lily Clarke announced on breakfast television that her engagement to David is over and that the only man she loves, the only man she’s ever loved, is Stone Logan. Apparently, you two have reconciled.”

Stone swore again, then nothing. No explanation, no words of comfort, nothing to ease my own worries. My distress soon became humiliation. I could only blame myself. Stone came with a reputation, and I’d been warned off him from the start, but somehow, I’d managed to push all that aside and jump straight into his bed the moment he crooked his finger.

What a naïve, stupid woman I was. What on earth made me believe that Stone would choose somebody like me over Lily Clarke? God, she was everything I’d always wanted to be. Beautiful, a star, adored by everyone as a child. Then she managed to grow into an even more beautiful adult and snag herself not only a gorgeous rock star fiancée, but Stone Logan, too. She had a choice, and I had a memory that would always serve to remind me of how foolish I was capable of being.

There was only one thing I’d done right through this entire debacle. I’d honored the NDA, and my mother had no idea about my weekend of complete insanity.

Stone remained introspective, unable or unwilling to pick up on my hurt or comfort me. The words I wanted to hear, that everything would be fine, that it was a mistake, that he was over Lily, were less likely to come from him every mile we traveled. If he’d been going to say anything, he’d have given me some assurance in the first instance.

I stole a glance. He was on his phone, tapping out what was probably a sexy text to Lily. My stomach flipped again, and I wished at breakfast I’d stuck to dried toast rather than the creamy scrambled eggs I ate, because they weren’t settling well at all.

I felt nauseous, and stupid, and sad, and completely ill-equipped to deal with this.

We were nearing the station when Stone finally tucked his phone away, right at the moment my work phone pinged with an incoming message. It was probably Sarah. I guess she’d heard the news, too. She was most likely worried Stone had vanished with Lily somewhere cozy to consummate the renewal of their relationship.

I tugged my phone out of my bag, preparing myself for the new paddle that would stir my pot of emotions.

I wasn’t prepared for the message to be from Stone. I glanced at him as he steadfastly watched the back of our driver’s head.
WTF?
He was breaking up with me in a text when he was sitting right beside me.

I opened the message.

The book deal was off. Stone wasn’t going to finish the manuscript, and he didn’t care about being in violation of his contract. Anyone who wanted to could contact him through his lawyer. Everyone was copied on it—me, Sarah, his editor, Donald Mason, two people at his publishers, and some guy at a law firm.

The taxi crawled into the slow moving queue toward the passenger drop-off area. Once I’d triple-checked the message and come up each time with the same conclusion, I looked up. Stone watched me, his mouth hard, his eyes as dull as the concrete pavement.

“I’m sorry, Katrina.” He shrugged. “Can’t do it. The book, us—”

“I don’t understand,” I said, alarmed that he’d for once called me Katrina.

“It can’t work between us. I’m sorry, but that’s how it is.”

My face burned with shame. All the sex jumbled into flashes, out of sequence, but each one as awful as the next. I’d let myself be used because in my head, I’d written a different script to the one that was playing out. He was a manwhore, the hookup guy, and I’d somehow managed to delude myself that with me, he was something more than that.

I flung my door open and stumbled out of the cab. Stone followed me quickly, paying the driver and taking our bags.

I would not fucking cry in front of him, but I needed a quiet bathroom stall where I could spend a moment getting my shit together, and, yes, probably crying.

My wheelie bag tipped to one side, capsizing on the ground because I’d tugged it so hard from Stone’s grip. “I think we should take separate train cars back,” I announced, my voice unnervingly strong.

“Fine,” he replied.

We approached the station entrance with twelve arctic inches separating us. For a moment, I hoped I was dreaming, but someone calling Stone’s name broke me out of that fantasy. “I need the bathroom,” I said.

He nodded. “I’ll wait at the ticket counter.”

I tried to keep my spine straight and walk with dignity, but I dragged my heart behind me with my bag.

There was only one first-class car, and Stone had swapped his ticket for a seat in the business section. I took a single seat at the far end of the car from where we’d sat only two days ago, close to where he’d ambushed me as I’d left the bathroom to pin me in the alcove. Kiss number two.

I curled in my seat, stared through the window, and saw nothing. I was numb, yet my body itched and wanted to be held. Between my legs was sore and bruised from all the sex. The back of my neck had a deep purple bruise and an exquisitely sore point where he’d bitten me. I hated him, and my heart broke because I wanted to travel back to yesterday and stop time.

My phone buzzed and pinged with messages, all ignored. I had no idea how to face Sarah. My future with FaithLit could probably be saved if I played this carefully, but I’d never get the talented clients I dreamed of on the back of being Stone Logan’s awesome media assistant. Worse, I’d probably be known as the person who failed to get the book out of him.

CJM wouldn’t touch me with a barge pole. I’d be back at the temping agency, begging for an envelope stuffing assignment if anyone would have me.

Rent was due.

I was a complete failure.

By the time we reached Penn Station, I had no plan beyond getting to the apartment to change into clothes my mother would approve of and making sure I arrived at her lunch on time.

Stone waited for me on the platform. If it was any consolation, he looked terrible.

“Is there anything you can say to me?” I asked carefully, hopefully, not trusting my voice because I wanted to rage at him and tell him I loved him.

He shook his head. “Let me get you a cab.”

I swallowed past the gunk in my throat. “The bus is fine. I’ll get going. Bye.” My words rushed out because the pressure building behind my eyes made them hot. I blinked furiously as I walked away, not wanting him to see me swipe at any tears trying to escape.

Every step I took, I waited for him to call to me. Isn’t that what happens in the movies? The begging for forgiveness, the declarations of love. By the time I reached my bus, I knew that my life wasn’t like the movies.

I was relieved to find the apartment empty, because I couldn’t explain to Carrie what had happened when I had yet to sort things out myself. The familiarity of my bedroom was comforting, and the draw of my bed, to curl up under the comforter and sleep for a few hours, was particularly powerful, given that I was expected at my parents for lunch in fewer than thirty minutes. Without a doubt, I was going to be late.

Good. That, and Clarissa’s arrival from college, should keep the focus away from anything but my tardiness when compared to my sister’s awesome ability to travel across three states and still be on time.

* * *

M
om met
me at the door with a sour face and a bible quote on her apron.

“Your sister has been here for over an hour. We’re waiting for you so that we can start lunch.”

“I’m sorry. I’ve been working.”

“On a Sunday?”

“Yes, Mom.”

“Don’t lie.” She bent closer. I thought she was going to kiss me. I could smell her Lily of the Valley scent and her distinctive breath, she was that close. I thought about the other Lily and her valley, which I hoped Stone wasn’t already excavating. The thought made me so anxious I almost missed Mom’s next words.

“I saw the photo of you in Newport,” she hissed, her voice low as if she were revealing my dirtiest secret.

“It’s not what you think,” I said.
It’s worse.

“Your father’s very upset. It’s so typical of you, Katrina, to try and outshine your sister, but believe me, associating yourself with a man like that just makes you look like a slut. Come and help me carry the food to the table.”

Because breaking my heart is the way I intend to outshine my sister.

I followed her to the kitchen. No stiff hug today. No barely touching lips against the flesh of my cheek. I carried a dish of steaming potatoes through to the dining room and greeted Dad. At least his hug showed no signs of how
very upset
he was with me. Clarissa looked self-satisfied, so nothing different there.

Dad gave thanks for the food and the opportunity to share it with his family, and I waited as others helped themselves to the customary Sunday dinner. A chicken, potatoes, and green vegetables, all cooked to the point of exhaustion. I would get the blame if they were overdone, which was pointless because they were always overdone. Carrots and parsnips withered on the final plate. I served myself a piece of chicken, a potato, and a few beans and waited for the gravy to be passed.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Katrina. That wouldn’t feed a bird,” Mom said, pointing at my plate with her knife.

No matter what serving size I took, it always displeased her. Big or small, I would be accused of having an eating disorder at the corresponding end of the spectrum. “I had a large breakfast.”

“When you knew perfectly well you were coming here for lunch.”

She had a point, I guess, but at breakfast time, I was hungry and happy.

The chicken turned to a stringy mass in my mouth as I chewed. I sipped at my water and swallowed quickly, waiting for it to sit like a stone in my belly. My appetite was zero.

“You’re very quiet, darling,” my father remarked.

“I thought you’d have a lot to tell us...about work,” Clarissa added, earning herself a dark look from Mom.

“She’s ashamed, and rightly so,” Mom said.

I stabbed a bean.

Thankfully, Mom and Clarissa seemed more interested in church gossip, so I concentrated on forcing tiny forkfuls of food into my mouth. I wondered what Stone was doing. Was Lily at his house? Would she be kind to Buster? By the time lunch was over, I started eyeing the clock. I had a ready excuse that I needed to work and would be catching the 3:18 bus home. Only an hour to go. And as for work, I wasn’t sure that I still had a job.

“Come and help me with the dishes, Katrina.”

It didn’t matter what my mother slung my way. I remained protected by a numb barrier I’d been unable to shift. I’d dry the dishes and wipe benches and let her say her piece. Right now, she was incapable of hurting me.

“I’ve been waiting for you to explain to me about working for Mr. Logan.”

“You know I couldn’t do that.”

“Yet, when I phoned Cooper Johnson Management, they were quite happy to tell me where you were. You’ve been living up there with that…that...scandalous man. Are you deliberately trying to shame our family?”

I could have asked her the same question. But she didn’t want my explanation because she’d already drawn her own unmovable opinion. I stared at the soap bubbles that gathered and dangled from the handle of the pot until gravity took them to the floor.