Destination Connelly (36 page)

The thought of being near Asher daily does funny things to my insides. More than it should. More than I want. “That’s going to be pretty costly for you,” I murmur.
And me
, I think, in more ways than one.

He leans back slightly and I’m able to take a deep breath for the first time in long minutes without inhaling him. His unique fragrance is clouding my mind, my judgment.

“I have another proposal.”

I roll my eyes, leaning back in my chair. His magnetic pull makes it hard to do even that.

I am in so much trouble.

“I’m not staying with you, either.”

“Now, Alyse, why do you insist on ruining all my fun?” he quips, winking.

I smile, but remain quiet. Even if he would be so bold to suggest it, he would have to know I’d never accept.

“Okay. If you won’t stay with me, then we have an executive apartment that’s not being used. It’s fully furnished and close to the office. The building has a nice gym and a couple of restaurants. It’s not terribly fancy, but it’s better than a hotel.”

“I—I don’t know, Asher.” I’m hedging, but the second his proposal left his mouth I already made up my mind. If I had a place that felt like my own, I could stay there most weekends instead of driving back to Detroit, where there was really nothing left for me except bad memories and ghosts from my past that won’t seem to let me out of their unyielding grip.

He gets comfortable again before continuing his sales pitch. “It’s in the same building as Livia and Gray, so you’ll also be close to your sister. I know you’re helping with their shotgun wedding and wouldn’t it be convenient to be able to hop in the elevator and pop in on her? Of course, I would probably call ahead first, because…”

He leaves his insinuation hanging and we both laugh, lightening the mood.

As I pretend to think about it for a couple of minutes, his intense gaze never leaves mine. I can feel him willing me into acquiescence. I almost break a smile, but that would be giving him too much and right now I need to hold parts of me back, because I can already tell Asher will demand everything from me. And then some. Certain girlie parts are already begging me to submit, submit, submit.

Seeing Asher again a couple of months ago triggered something inside me. Made me remember my girlish dreams when I was eighteen and in love with Beck. Dreams that have been too painful to remember, but now that I do, I want them desperately. To be honest, it made me remember what I felt when I almost gave myself to a young Asher Colloway.

I want bone-deep love, a family, happiness, and a man that will worship me. I thought Beck was the man who would give me everything, but he’s dead and apparently wasn’t the man I thought he was at all.

Finn certainly wasn’t that man.

And I don’t think Asher Colloway can give me any of those things either. I’m not sure he can give
any
woman that.

Pleasure?
No doubt.

A future?
Not likely.

He’s nearly thirty, never been married, and is clearly a player. I want more than that now. God knows I
deserve
more than that. As much as I’m attracted to him, sleeping with him is probably the dumbest idea to ever cross my mind, yet my conviction not to needs a lot of reinforcement.

I refocus on the reason we’re having this discussion in the first place. Keeping my business afloat. “Okay. I accept your terms.”

His smile blinds me, and all thoughts I just had about why I should stay away from this man float out of the room on a cloud of pure lust.

Yep, my conviction needs a lot of work.

A. Lot.

L
uke

E
njoying
the view of her toned bare thigh with each step she takes, courtesy of that nice high slit in her dress, I watch her sashay over to where I’m leaning against the bar. She orders a Corona Light from the bartender, tapping her perfectly manicured pink nails against the cool granite while she waits.

I’ve been watching her with that jackass photographer for the last hour, getting progressively angrier by the minute, not quite understanding why. She’s smokin’ hot, yes, but I have absolutely no claim on her. Not that I wouldn’t mind a little sample. Or fifty.

Confusingly, it’s the same reaction I had when I saw her in his arms last Friday night. The urge to introduce his face to a cement wall was so great, had she not been drunk off her ass, I may not have been able to resist.

She’d be a handful for any man to juggle, no doubt in bed and out, and picture boy, Cooper Jensen, isn’t even close to enough man for her. It will take a strong hand to control her, make her submit, and God himself help me, that’s all I’ve thought of since I laid eyes on her for the first time months ago. I want to hear her raw voice sobbing my name while I have her pinned helplessly underneath me. Who knew that Eric’s sister was so fucking sexy? Probably why he kept her under wraps all those years ago.

Addy Monroe is like a wild horse. Untamed, full of fire, even feral if you get her riled up enough. I had a small taste of that last weekend after Gray’s bachelor party when we stopped by the bar where the girls were having their own celebration. I saved her from herself by confiscating their almost-empty bottle of Patron. Every heated word she spat tugged straight on my cock, and by the time I left with her passed out in my arms, I was rock hard. Let’s just say it was a long fucking night all around.

I want her. Not that I
deserve
her. She’s untainted, unlike me. I have so many fucking stains, industrial-strength cleaner couldn’t remove them all. But I’m not looking for a relationship; I’m looking for a good fuck. I’m looking for oblivion.

Liar
, my conscience loudly whispers.

Fuck off
, I tell him, even louder.

I discreetly adjust my hardening dick. “No tequila tonight?” I feel the smirk on my face, but don’t know if she sees it or not. I’m trying to refrain from looking at her as I will my own body into submission.

“Unrequited love sucks, doesn’t it?” she replies with a bite before taking a sip of her beer straight from the bottle. I love a woman who isn’t too prissy to drink her alcohol from the actual container it’s served in. More than that, I love a woman with a smart, feisty mouth.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, sweetheart.”

I flick my eyes over to see hers stray to Gray and Livia across the ballroom and her lips upturn in a sly smirk. “Whatever you say. I’m pretty much the subject matter expert on that shit.”

She turns and leans her back against the bar, mirroring my stance. We’re both silent, watching the happy newly married couple with drinks in our hands. The more I think about what she said, the more it plain pisses me off.

Yes, I care deeply for Livia. I have for years. No one can possibly understand what I watched her go through and what I had to suffer through myself. How that bonds two people on a totally different plane.

But even if Livia could have been mine, I know her heart will always belong to Gray. I could never interfere with that. Wouldn’t. Besides, I’ve done enough to my family without intentionally trying to steal my brother’s girl. I do have a few shreds of decency left that I’m trying desperately to hold on to. They’re wound so tightly around my fingers, they’re cutting off the circulation, but I’ll be damned if I’ll let them go.

Regardless of what Addy may think, I’m genuinely thrilled for them both. After what she’s been through,
no one
deserves happiness more than Livia. But fuck, I won’t deny watching them get married today was hard. Harder than I thought it would be, and it’s not because I still want her. I gave up on that notion years ago, even if my heart didn’t quite get the memo.

No…it was hard because the love that hovers above them like a bright golden halo is sickening. What’s even more sickening is that as I watch them, I’m envious. I want
that
, only the logical part of me knows I’ll never have it. I push those feelings of optimism that keep bubbling to the surface down deep into the muck again. I may have moved past the worst times of my life, but in no way do I kid myself that I’m worthy of a woman’s love or acceptance of who I am and the things I’ve done.

So tonight I need to forget.

About Livia.

About my tainted past.

About all the things I now want but will never get.

And I think Addy Monroe is just the woman to do that, even if it can only be for a few minutes. My dick hardens painfully whenever I set eyes on Livia’s best friend, the little sister of
my
best friend Eric, and I have to be honest…she’s the only one who’s stirred it for quite some time now. I’ve wanted this spitfire since the minute I saw her shaking the tits and ass God so graciously blessed her with at the bar when I first came back to Chicago in September to protect Livia from our sordid past.

“Maybe fifteen minutes in the back will wipe that smirk off your face,” I whisper as I lean sideways toward her. In my peripheral, I see her head turn to me.

“Wow, a whole fifteen minutes, huh? I think I’ll have to take a rain check on that offer, Rico Suave.” She spins on her heels to walk away from me.

Oh, hell no.

Next thing I know, her body is pressed against mine, held in place by a firm palm to her neck and another circled around the trim waist I’ve wanted to squeeze all night.

Sweet Jesus and Mary, she feels fantastic. I have to suppress the groan that wants to escape from somewhere deep inside—it would give her too much power over me and control is what I need to wrestle from her, inch by agonizing inch. My lips are at her ear, grazing the tender flesh with each word I rasp.

“Sweetheart, I can spend the next fifteen
hours
lavishing untold pleasure and blissful pain all over and inside every single inch of your delectable body until you beg for me,
cry
for me, to stop.”

The way her breath hitches has my cock pleading to ram into her over and over. Uncaring who may see, I release her waist and grab her hand, bringing it between our bodies, forcing it to my shaft with my hand on top. Guiding her, I squeeze, moving our twined fingers up and down the length of me. She moans and my eyes close at the image of sinking my cock slowly between her red-glossed clever lips.

Nipping her lobe harshly, I grate, “Let’s start with that smart mouth of yours, shall we?”