Taming His Tutor (Entangled Brazen) (15 page)

Yeah, there it was. She wasn’t the right woman for him. If she was, he’d know it wasn’t
pity
she felt. But the kind of concern and caring that only came with love.

He was viciously angry. She could see his fists clenched tightly, shaking down by his sides. But she wasn’t scared for her safety—not physically, anyway.

Ignoring his nudity, he stalked to the door and flung it open. Stood beside it pointedly.

Sick to her stomach, she slowly walked toward it.

“I can’t do this, Abbi,” he said, staring at the floor. “I don’t want this. I don’t want
you
.”

Chapter Eighteen

“Be spontaneous. Daring.”

For hours and hours Joe couldn’t stop the words replaying in his head. His own stupid lies. The harsh truths Abbi had spat at him. The long-buried memory of his mom.

Better off without me
…

That damn cliché was what his mom had said when she’d left him and his sister with the child welfare authority. As an adult, he knew that it had been the frustrated, off-the-cuff comment from a desperate woman who couldn’t cope as a mother. He knew, on one level, that it wasn’t true. Her leaving wasn’t his fault. He was a grown man, for heaven’s sake. But that five-year-old was still buried within him. Still hurt. Still twisting those words so they came from him—that
she’d
been better off without
him
.

You deserve better than what you let yourself have…

Abbi’s words haunted him more. She thought he’d been denying himself? Is that what he’d been doing? Didn’t he have it all? Didn’t he have everything he could ever want? Wasn’t he more successful than anyone had ever imagined he could be?

Yes. Yes. Yes.

And yet. There was that underlying fear that pushed him to achieve more and more. Because what if he didn’t achieve? What if he failed?

He couldn’t trust that anyone would still want him if he stuffed up. His own mother hadn’t wanted him whether he screwed up or not. No foster family had either, not for long. His sister hadn’t—not enough to turn to him when she’d most needed help. He hadn’t risked his teammates. He’d made that choice for them.

Same with women.

He hadn’t wanted to hurt them. But it wasn’t all because he was some damn hero. It was because
he
hadn’t wanted to be hurt.

But he hurt now.

Abbi had been right.

He’d meant to be nothing more than a dumb jock for her. Good for fun and fucking. So easy and achievable, and in the process he’d boost her confidence and play out an old school fantasy.

She wasn’t supposed to rip him open and hold his most deeply buried fear up in front of him. She wasn’t supposed to make him want
more
from her. She wasn’t supposed to make him want everything he’d sworn he didn’t need.

Yeah, now he realized what he really wanted. Honesty. Emotion. Trust.

Security.

Not financial. But warmth. The comfort of knowing he was loved and cared for and wanted.

By her. Only
Abbi
.

He wanted to give that to her. Wanted her to turn to him on anything or everything. He hated being shut out.

Sure, he’d fallen for her body—he’d dived right in and feasted on every succulent inch of her flesh. But while her body might have captured his cock, it was her personality that had imprisoned his heart. His head. His whole damn mind was devoted to her, like she was queen of some cult.

And it hurt like fuck. Because he’d pushed her away. He’d turned his back on what she might have offered—because what she’d offered had scared the crap out of him.

Only now did he realize what he’d done.

He stayed in his apartment all the next day, pacing, pretending to do paperwork. But all the while his distress built. He hated himself for being so cruel to her. He stared at his phone. It rang. He didn’t answer. There was only one person he wanted to talk to and she wasn’t calling. She never would.

It was down to him to fix it. Only he had no idea how. He, who’d never chased a woman, now had the hunt of his life on.

Finally, in the evening, he touched her name on his contacts screen. A minute later he ended the call. No point leaving a message. He’d go for face-to-face.

Twenty minutes later he was on her doorstep waiting for her to open the door. But there was silence. No light on inside.

No answer.

He tensed. Rapped his knuckles hard on her door again. She’d always been home the other nights he’d come around. She’d always been there for him when he’d wanted her.

Now she wasn’t. Not physically or emotionally.

So where the hell was she?

His blood ran cold. It was Friday night. Was she out on a date already? Was she off doing more research for her app? Possibly not. Probably not. Because the app was done.

Damn
. Of course that’s where she was. At that freaking party. Beautiful. On her mission. Fully prepared. All weapons—skills—at the ready.

In his tormented, self-flagellating state, he imagined the worst. Abbi with another guy. Abbi sharing all that enthusiasm and laughter and soft generosity with someone else.

Bile flooded his mouth.

No
.

That is
not
what he wanted.
He
wanted to be her guy.
He
wanted her.

Now it really fucking hit him. What he wanted was so much more than just to talk to her. To be friends. To bury himself in her wet heat.

He wanted
all
of her. For
all
the time. He didn’t want to go back to how his life had been. Because it had been empty before her. And he’d only just realized it.

He’d been such an arrogant ass. To think he had it all sorted out? Spending his life being Mr. Successful, going from fling to fling—one woman to another. It had been so easy to keep them at a distance. But not Abbi.

He ached for the warmth she brought. He’d liked caring for her. Thinking about what she’d like. Putting someone—her—first.

And she’d let him. At least in the bedroom for a time.

Yeah, she was right, he was a total coward. He’d cut people from his life—those who’d gotten too close. Those with the power to hurt. He’d told himself it was in their best interests. But it wasn’t—it was in his. Protective. So maybe he needed to try what she’d suggested. Reach out. Try to connect.

His palms were damp as he fished for his phone again. All these years he’d kept his sister’s number—kidding himself it was because he could never be bothered to go through and clear up his contacts list. But Brooke’s name was there. Brooke’s number.

She’d be his test run. If he could talk to
her
, then maybe he’d be brave enough to hunt down Abbi.

…

Abbi had been damn determined not to let her misery interfere with her work and thought she’d succeeded quite well. All she’d done was work. For
hours
. All through the night. She’d crashed at Nadia’s apartment, showered, and continued with all the party prep. They’d turned the downstairs studio and meeting rooms into a mock palace. Over the top. Decadent.

“The app is done now, right? Isn’t it time to put it into effect?” Nadia had clicked her tongue and leaned against the side of the partition. “You’re the pro, right?”

“Oh yeah.” Abbi had nodded sarcastically. But a spark of defiance had been lit in her. “I am.”

She just had to get on with life. Surely the sooner she got on with it, the sooner she’d get over Joe. And she really needed to get over him. She needed to quit the whole “lying in bed aching and wanting and hurting for a man who was off-limits”.

“Attagirl.” Nadia had stepped forward and bent to hug her. “Go you.”

“Yeah.” Abbi’d rolled her eyes and turned back to her screen. “Go me.”

Nadia, with all her insight, had known not to push for the reviews on the sex products. Instead she pushed the chocolate toward her. And then the glam makeup. She’d dress up.
Cover
up. Carry on.

It was time to party.

Now, two hours into it, she was still heartbroken, but at the same time was really proud of herself for making the effort. She’d smiled. She’d made eye contact. She asked questions and listened. There were some serious hotties, too. And nice guys.

That’s what really brought it home. All the new skills and confidence she had? All the great lessons she’d learned from her tutorials?

It wasn’t the
moves
Joe made that did it for her, but Joe himself.
Only
him.

Now she knew the difference between hot sex and hot sex with someone you loved. She’d had both with Joe. Both had brought her amazing awe-gasms. But that last time? When she’d known she
loved
him? When she’d tried
not
to love him?

The whole thing had been a fuckup. How had she thought she could handle such a sex-lesson scheme? And why couldn’t she think of some way to try to fix it?

If she could ask for what she wanted in bed, why couldn’t she ask for what she wanted
outside
of it?

Maybe she’d made a mistake in not letting him into the rest of her life. Or not confessing her growing feelings until her mad go at him last night. This could have been so much more than a few rounds of superhot sex.

But
he
didn’t want anything else. He liked his lifestyle—short-term flings, with his work as his one real passion. He didn’t want any more complicated. And maybe, given his background, that was fair enough.

It was his choice.

And she couldn’t bear the thought of him rejecting her again. Last night had been bad enough already; she didn’t need to make it worse by adding in some kind of plea from her and another dismissal from him.

She just had to toughen up. She’d have a fulfilling, fun sex life. Eventually.

Once she’d recovered.

She glanced around the room filled with beautiful people. The bubbles were flowing freely, the DJ was spinning outstanding tunes; it couldn’t be more cool. And it was time for her to leave. She’d put in enough of a show. She was too tired for more. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone tall. Ultra-tall. No way. She looked. Yep, ultra-tall, ultra-broad-shouldered. Ultra-hot.

He was here?

For a second she’d thought he was there for her. But of course he wasn’t. He was there talking to Tracy, the model he’d manipulated into position for that photo spread. So of course he was here. He was the online exer-freaking-cize columnist. He wasn’t here for her at all.

And oh crap. He’d caught her eye.
Seen
her and now he was walking…

She spun her back to him and grabbed Nadia. “Hide me. Please.”

Where was the exit? There was no dignity now, only the desperate need to escape.

“From…?” Nadia spun around to face what Abbi had turned from. “Oh, hi, Joe. You here to party?”

“There’s only one reason I’m here,” he answered, staring hard at Abbi.

“Oh.” Nadia paused.

Joe didn’t offer anything more. Just kept his gaze locked on Abbi.

“Okay then. Well, great. I’ll just let you two…oh forget it.” Nadia vanished.

Joe stepped closer. Too close. He reached for her. “You were right. And wrong.”

Pulse flying, instinct telling her to flee, she stepped out of his reach. His hands dropped.

“Right and wrong?” she asked. So not going to lose it here.

“No. Yeah. Maybe.”

She frowned. Joe was never this indecisive.

“Okay.” She pulled herself together. “How can I help you?”

He clenched his jaw for a second, then visibly relaxed. “You want to get out of here?”

She hesitated.

“We could go somewhere for a quick drink, or something? Coffee? Beer?” he added quickly.

She licked her dry lips, disappointed and grateful and surprised. And totally unable to say no. “Sure.”

“I’ll drive. I haven’t had anything to drink.”

“Great.

“How…was your day?” she asked lamely as she got into his car. If she kept him talking, the conversation on his work, maybe she’d be okay.

“It was fucked, thanks for asking.”

Or maybe they’d just sit in awkward silence until they got to wherever he was taking her.

Silence it was.

“What kind of place is Woody’s?” she asked when he pulled up in front of a bar down a quiet street several blocks away from where the hipsville party had been.

“A good place to sit and shoot the breeze.” He locked the car and walked her to the door.

That’s what he wanted to do with her now? Great. Had she somehow been relegated to friend status now that the sex lessons were done? Had she dreamed the whole hideous argument of last night or something?

Or was she dreaming now?

“The app looked good—“Allure”? People were into it,” Joe said, ushering her into the half-empty bar.

“Yes.” She smiled brightly, taking a seat at the counter. They’d had iPads scattered around with the app open for people to play with it. Slick and fun, it had been a hit, but it would always be “Vixenator” to her. “My boss is thrilled.”

“Fantastic.”

“Yeah.” She nodded, glad when a barman came down to take their orders. She needed a long, long drink.

That awkward silence returned while the guy fetched their beers—and it lasted. She watched the condensation form on her bottle and a single trickle start down the side. She couldn’t think of any more polite chat. And she didn’t want to ask about the personal, let alone know why he’d brought her here at all.

“I called Brooke about twenty minutes ago.”

“You did?” She nearly fell off the stool. “How’d that go?”

“We’re gonna meet up for coffee.” He cleared his throat. “I apologized for ignoring her the other night. Told her I was fighting for the love of my life. I just hadn’t known it at the time. It wasn’t a lie. She understood.”

Abbi’s mouth opened and shut, goldfish style.

“I was thinking you and I never really did have that first date,” he said quietly. “That baseball game didn’t count.”

She swiveled on her stool to look at him directly. “We weren’t really supposed to have a date though, were we?” She placed her clammy hand on the beer bottle to center herself. “We just had a kind of arrangement.”

He frowned. “I think that was a mistake.”

His words stabbed the fantasy bubble that had been building. He regretted it? Regretted everything they’d done together?

“Lifelong learning. Isn’t that what it’s all about these days?” he asked. “Six lessons were never going to cut it. Hell, we never really got to know each other. Well,”—he nudged the coaster away from him—“I never really got to know you. You didn’t much let me.”

Surprised, she said nothing.