Three Broken Promises (13 page)

And no one likes my father.

“Fine. You’re right. I’m not honest. I have my own secrets. That’s why I’m leaving. I’m running away from it all. Not a very responsible, grown-up thing to do, but it’s all I’ve got.” She approaches me slowly, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. The sight of them nearly undoes me but I straighten my spine, stiffen my upper lip, and pretend I’m a fucking statue. “I’m not sure you can handle my secrets. But despite them, I want you, Colin. All of you—your faults and your strengths, the good and the bad, it doesn’t matter. I want it all.”

Her words wash over me like a soothing balm and I feel everything within me loosen. All that tightly coiled-up tension, the anger, the frustration, everything that’s been pent up inside me for what feels like a century just melts at first sight of the glow in her eyes. Those tears are for me. Her pain, her emotions, they’re all for me, and like a complete ass I’ve stomped all over her these last few months.

Hell, the last few years. Ever since I’ve known her, really. I’ve been protective to a fault. Guarding her, watching over her. Losing her . . .

Wanting her. Not allowing myself to have her. Pushing her away, hurting her. Every single damn time.

She deserves better. A man who would have rescued her right away instead of letting her continue to work at a place that dragged her down farther every single day she went there.

“I’m out of here in a few weeks. There’s no going back.” She lifts her chin, determination written all over her sad face. “My leaving is going to happen whether you like it or not. I
will
make it happen despite all of these recent . . . obstacles. So why can’t you give me a little bit of yourself? That’s all I want, Colin. And then I’ll walk away from you before it gets too complicated. It’s what you want, right? I know you don’t do complicated.”

I don’t do complicated because I saw what happened between my parents, and they’re the worst kind of complicated. No one understands them, least of all me.

Yet with Jen, it’s already complicated before it’s even begun. That’s how bad I have it for her. Once I have her, will I be able to walk away?

I don’t know.

“You’re going to turn me away yet again, aren’t you?” she asks when I don’t say anything. The irritation in her voice rings clear as her entire body goes tense. “I can’t believe it. I offer myself up to you with no strings attached and you’re trying to figure out how to let me down easy. God, I am
such
a moron!”

Unable to hold myself back, I rush toward her, angry that she would insult herself. Panicked that she really is going to walk away and I’m going to lose my chance. Thinking too much sucks. I need to just let it happen. Take this opportunity that she’s presenting me.

And let her go when our time is up.

“You’re not a moron,” I murmur, reaching for her. I cup her face in my hands and position her so she has no choice but to meet my gaze. I skim my thumbs across her cheeks, feel her shudder at my touch. “You make an offer like that and a man needs to process it first.”

The unshed tears still glimmer in her eyes and one escapes, leaving a damp trail across her skin. Leaning in, I stop its descent with my lips, tasting the salt, hearing the catch in her breath. “We do this and it’s not going to be some half-assed thing, you know,” I whisper.

She closes her eyes, her tears tangled in her long, thick lashes. “What’s it going to be, then?”

“A discovery.” I nuzzle her nose with my own, breathing in her scent, her very essence. God, I could devour her! It’s taking everything within me to keep calm and not unleash all over her. “An exploration.”

“That sounds like . . . research.” Her breath hitches in her throat when I drop a tender kiss on the tip of her nose.

Chuckling, I shake my head. “It’s the farthest thing from research.” I drift my lips across her cheek, blazing a hot path on her petal-soft skin. “You’re right when you said I don’t do commitment. The closest thing I’ve ever been to commitment is . . . what I share with you.”

She tentatively places her hands on my hips, her fingers curling into the waistband of my jeans. Having her hands on me sends little darts of fire throughout my insides, making me harden in an instant. She has no idea what sort of effect she has on me. How much restraint I’m using at this very moment not to throw her over my shoulder like an oversexed caveman and cart her off to my bedroom.

“But it can be no more than friendship with added . . . benefits.” I lift my head so I can look into her troubled gaze. She doesn’t like what I have to say and I don’t like it either, but I have to be honest. Stringing her along and making her believe this is something more is a mistake.

The two of us together would never work. I’m too damn selfish. I’d disappoint her. I’d hold her back when she needs her freedom. I’m not worthy of her. She’s everything sweet and good in my life, where there’s little sweet and good remaining.

I’ve kept her—and our relationship—as pure as possible even after all of these years. With the realization that she’s leaving me, that we’ll never be together again, I need to take my opportunities where I can.

Jen bites her lip and drops her gaze. “I can handle that.”

Her body language is more than telling me she doesn’t really want to handle that, but I can’t worry about it now.

I want her too damn much.

Chapter 11

Jen

What Colin is offering me is exactly what he offers every other woman who’s flitted in and out of his life. A temporary affair, something meaningless and conveniently disposable, since that’s all he can handle.

I’m the one who offered first. I have no one to blame but myself. So for once, I’ll take what I can get and screw the consequences. I want him, any way I can get him. The constant fight, the push-pull between us, has grown old.

My new mantra floats through my mind again and again.

Be free. Let go.

Bracing my hands on his hips, I lift up on tiptoe and brush my mouth against his. The kiss is soft, as chaste as can be, and he holds himself completely still. Almost as if he fears I’ll pull away from him if he makes a sudden move.

But that’s exactly what I want him to do. Make a move. Show that he wants me, anything to get this started between us. It’s been building for so long I’m not quite sure how to approach it.

I sometimes wonder if he pushes me away because I was a stripper. And that’s not even the worst of it. So I must work my hardest to keep my secret to myself. Even Fable doesn’t know the worst of it. No one ever will if I have my choice.

I push all negative thoughts of my recent past aside and kiss him again, my lips moving over his in gentle exploration. They’re soft, full, and damp, and he tastes like absolute heaven. He grabs hold of my waist when I wobble toward him, our chests brushing, and I hear his quick intake of breath. That tiny sound, the way his body tightens completely beneath my grip, fills me with a rush of power that’s positively heady.

He reacts to me. He wants me. Maybe just as bad as I want him.

Without saying a word he grabs hold of my waist, and I gasp when he picks me up and deposits me on the countertop. I’m above him now, though not by much considering he’s so tall. I stare into his eyes, winding my arms around his neck, my fingers sliding into his silky, soft hair. Those gorgeous blue eyes look back at me and I lean down, kissing him again. Groaning when his tongue swipes along my bottom lip, then nips at it with the edge of his teeth. A jolt moves through me at the deliciously sensual contact and I’m instantly hungry for more.

So much more. More than he’ll ever be able to give me. But I can deal with that.

“Open up, Jenny,” he whispers against my mouth, his voice husky and full of promise. No one calls me Jenny anymore. I put a stop to it when I was in the eighth grade, but hearing him say it sends a thrill running down my spine. “Let me in.”

I part my lips at his command and he slides his tongue against mine, the kiss turning instantly hot. Deep. I cling to him as he steps closer to the counter, my knees bracketing his hips, his arms circling around my middle. He splays his big hands across my back, holding me firm as his mouth consumes mine.

This is exactly how I imagined it would be between us. Hot. All-consuming. Overwhelming. I hear muffled whimpers and realize I’m the one who’s making them. An ache has started between my legs while he skims his hands all over me, his mouth fused with mine. I want more. More touching, more kissing, more skin-on-skin contact. We’re trying to get close, closer and closer, and I slide my hand down the wide expanse of his back, slipping my fingers beneath his shirt so I can touch bare, smooth skin.

He tears his mouth away to break the kiss, panting against my cheek as if he needs the break. I know I do. My emotions, my everything, are a jumble in my head, though I wouldn’t have it any other way. “Tell me to stop right now,” he says, his voice harsh. He’s out of breath, looking so completely worked up I can’t help but be pleased knowing I’m the one who did that to him. “And I’ll walk away.”

If he walks away I’ll kill him . . .

God, look at me. The man toys with my emotions so bad he’s pushing me to violence. “I don’t want you to stop,” I say, shaking my head.

His hands shift so they’re in front of me, his fingers toying with the tiny pearl buttons of my shirt. “I’ve waited for this moment for what feels like forever.”

I swallow hard, overcome by his admission.
God, so have I,
I want to say, though it’s much harder for me to confess. That we wanted this all along, together, is enough to make me want to ask him why we wasted so much time when we could have been together.

But I don’t. Because I know that’s not what he really wants. To be with me on a permanent basis, in a real relationship. That’s just too much for him to bear.

“Please don’t stop,” I whisper because I’m still afraid he might. And I can’t have that. Not again.

“Good. Because once I have you naked, kissing you everywhere . . .” He pauses, his mouth pressed to my ear. “I won’t be able to stop.”

“I-I’m okay with that.” He’s reduced me to stuttering. My brain, my entire body, is on overload at having him so close. His hands on me, his fingers slowly undoing each button that runs down the center of my shirt. He’s undressing me, his fingers brushing against my stomach, my bra, the tops of my breasts, until the shirt is completely unbuttoned and hanging open.

Pulling away slightly, he pushes the shirt from my shoulders so that it falls down my arms and puddles behind me on the counter. He studies me unabashedly, his eyes lit with dark, needy lust. “You’re so damn beautiful,” he says, his voice gruff.

His words make my cheeks flush with embarrassment but still I sit up straight, my breasts thrusting out with the movement. The bra I’m wearing is made of white satin and trimmed with lace. I’m not very well endowed and it dawns on me that the bra also has some major padding, making me appear bigger than I really am. Guys kinda hate that. I had the misfortune to discover that a few years ago with a real jerk I’d been dating who’d been sorely disappointed when he took off my bra. So I try to avoid wearing this sort of bra when I’m on a date.

Damn it, I wish I’d worn something else.

“Pretty.” He traces his index finger across the tops of my breasts, close to the delicate lace, and I clench my thighs together but it’s no use. I feel his touch as if he’s slowly stroking me between my legs, setting my entire body on fire. “We should take this off, though. I bet you’re even prettier without it on.”

I wait breathlessly as his fingers go to the center of my bra, undoing the front clasp with ease. The cups spring apart slightly, exposing me, and I press my lips together, overcome with worry that he’ll be disappointed. Or worse, call me out as a fake.

The women I’ve seen him flirt with are nothing like me. They’re curvy and blond, with huge breasts and tiny waists, whereas I’m tall and thin, with slight curves and small boobs. The total opposite of every girl I’ve ever seen him show a glimmer of interest in, I can’t help but wonder why he’s attracted to me.

But then he touches me and I forget all about my worry, my insecurities. All I can do is feel.

Colin slides his big, warm hands beneath the cups of my bra and pushes them aside, his palms brushing against my hard nipples. I hiss in a breath at the delicious contact, closing my eyes as I feel his weighted stare directed at my chest. His fingers tug my bra straps down my arms and I hold them out, feeling the bra fall away from me. I’m bared completely to him.

“Christ, you undo me.” Without warning he leans in, pressing his mouth to my breasts, his lips drifting across my nipples as they race across my skin. “You taste so good,” he whispers, just before he circles his tongue around first one nipple, then the other. I open my eyes to see his hands are as busy as his tongue. One of them skims over my knee, up my thigh, moving beneath my skirt. His fingertips brush the front of my damp panties and I suck in a harsh breath, spreading my legs as best I can to accommodate him, but the skirt’s hindering my movement.

“Here.” He pushes my skirt up my thighs and I lift up to help, until the fabric is bunched around my waist and I’m completely exposed. Colin rests his hands on the inside of my thighs, spreading me wider, his gaze zeroed in on my pale pink cotton panties. I lean back, my hands braced on the cold granite counter, and it chills my heated skin.

His smoldering stare makes me feel beautiful, desirable. Just the way he looks at me leaves me almost embarrassingly wet. I squirm when he strokes a single finger down the center of my panties, holding my breath when he pushes firmly against my most sensitive spot.

I press my lips together to stifle the moan that wants to spill and suddenly he’s right there, his face in mine. “I don’t want you to hold back,” he says, his voice firm. “I’ve waited this long; I’m dying to see you fall apart.”

He never looks away from me as he slips his fingers beneath the front of my panties, touching bare, hot, wet skin. I sink my teeth into my lower lip as I groan low in my throat, closing my eyes so I can lose myself to the sensation of his sure fingers touching me in all the right places. As if he knows exactly where I want him, how much pressure he should exert, how gentle he should be. He’s perfectly attuned to my body and I can already feel the wave hovering on the edge, just ready to wash over me and sweep me away.