Reflection (The Chrysalis Series) (20 page)

She closed her eyes and refused to look at him.

‘Look at me!’ He was damn near yelling at her. Her stubbornness was infuriating him.

Her eyes popped open. They were swimming with tears.

He almost caved. Almost let her off the hook, but this was important to him.

It would be a different story if she honestly didn’t want this. No one had a right to force anyone to go against their beliefs. This wasn’t honest, though.

She wanted it too. She was letting an irrational belief stop her from experiencing this and worse, she was internalising shame over it. That’s why he could not let this go.

‘Answer me.’ He took her hand, but remained firm. ‘Are you wet, baby? Does the thought of pain mixed in with pleasure excite you?’

Tears, shiny and wet, slid down her cheeks as she nodded.

‘Why does that make you cry?’ He believed he understood, but she needed to understand she was wrong.

‘Because I don’t trust myself to know. I doubt myself and I’m scared of making another mistake in judgment. My first one ended up with me getting raped.’ Her words were drowned in tears as sobs took hold of her body.

He gathered her into his body, sitting her on his lap like a small child. She cried helpless, wracking sobs as he held her and whispered words of comfort and love.

He loved her. He knew it in his heart. He also knew that it wouldn’t be enough if they didn’t cross this hurdle together.

Ultimately, it wasn’t about the sex. It was about having no emotional barriers between the two of them. If she kept this wall up when she so clearly wanted it, they likely wouldn’t survive.

He’d debated back and forth over whether he was pushing something out of selfishness, but he didn’t think he was. The kink was just the symptom. This was about trust. This was about sharing something with someone that you gave to no one else. This was about honesty at its deepest level.

She was being dishonest. This was something she wanted. She craved. And she was denying herself out of misplaced guilt and fear. This would only grow and infect the rest of their relationship.

He could let the kink go, never ask her for it again, but it wouldn’t change the foundation of dishonesty.

No. He wasn’t going to let up.

He wasn’t, however, a complete asshole. He wouldn’t force the issue any further tonight.

When her sobs finally died down, Connor went and got a damp washcloth from her bathroom. As he gently wiped her cheeks, he said, ‘I understand your fear, Bridget. But if you don’t trust yourself in this, why don’t you consider trusting me until you do?’

She cupped his face and kissed him. Her kiss was urgent, almost panicked.

He knew a refusal when he got one.

Bridget kissed Connor as if that kiss would save her soul. She’d been more than wet at his words; she’d been two seconds away from falling to her knees and begging him to make it all real.

She didn’t want to deal with this. She didn’t want to take the risk.

She wanted him to drop this subject. She wasn’t ready and she didn’t want to argue. As she kissed her way down his body and took his cock in her mouth, she was determined to make him forget all about it.

Chapter Twenty-four

‘Calm down, sugar.’ Bridget chuckled as she took the Mustang smoothly into the turn lane. ‘If you fidget any more, you’re going to wear a hole in my leather seat.’

He scowled in her direction. He’d been in poor humour all day. She had a feeling it had a lot to do with what
hadn’t
happened last night. She’d found the toys in his nightstand this morning. One look at the handcuffs and flogger and she was especially glad she’d managed to take his mind off using them on her.

At least, she’d thought she had, but he’d been edgy and surly all day. It was enough to put her on edge as well. Needless to say, she’d been grateful when she’d gotten the invite from Claire to dinner. Claire had specifically said to bring Connor along. Apparently, it was time to bring him into the fold.

In truth, it warmed her heart that her friends cared enough to do this. She hoped they’d all hit it off. Even though she was confident they would, that niggle of concern was always there until something was said and done.

‘I’m just tired,’ he said as he looked off into the distance.

‘Well, I did wear you out last night.’ She laughed and smiled at him, only to falter a bit at the strained smile he forced in return.

‘You certainly put the moves on.’ He squeezed her hand but his tone was distant. An icy worm turned circles in her belly.

She’d done everything she could think of last night to show him how good sex was between them without the need to venture into the shadowy areas she preferred to keep in the dark.

She understood his point. She truly did. And she’d be a complete liar to say she didn’t want to do exactly what he suggested. But why did they have to? Why was it becoming a point of contention?

No. She wasn’t backing down on this. They were good the way they were and there was no need to complicate things with questions that didn’t need answering. It was a small sacrifice in the long term.

He would just have to understand.

‘Do your friends know what I do?’ He sounded like he was choking on the words.

Instantly, she softened. Here she was being completely self-centred, thinking this had to be about her, and he was worried about being embarrassed or judged for his chosen occupation.

‘You mean that you’re a phenomenal artist, sexy and intelligent, and rock my world in bed?’

She took his hand and damn near crashed the car at the fury in his face.

‘Connor!’ she gasped, seeing him so angry. ‘Yes, I told them what you do. They don’t care. I would never disrespect you that way. I’m not ashamed of anything you do.’

He mussed his hair as he raked a hand through it and blew out a breath.

‘I apologise, Bridg.’ He kissed the back of her hand. ‘It’s not even that I really care about what they’ll think of me, but if anyone were to disrespect you over it, I think I’d get an assault charge.’

Her heart squeezed at his concern for her. That he’d come to her rescue the way he would was one of the reasons she loved him.

The breath in her chest dissolved at the realisation that she did love him. Not just that, she wanted to be with him. For good. The words leaped to her lips, only to die as she thought of Dean Whittier. She hadn’t told Connor and, frankly, didn’t plan to. His very willingness to jump to her rescue was exactly why she needed to finish this with the dean. No, only when the road was clear in front of them would she tell him. Until then, she’d have to show him.

She pulled the Mustang into the alley behind Claire and Evan’s brownstone. Turning off the engine, she faced Connor and took his face in her hands.

‘You have nothing to worry about, sugar. I have the best friends in the world and I have the best man in the world. The two can’t help but come together like peanut butter and jelly.’

He laughed at her deliberate corniness and she felt warm inside again at seeing him smile for real.

Leaning over the centre console, she kissed him gently, brushing her lips across his. She wanted to take him into her arms and make all of his pain from being rejected and judged go away. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she deepened the kiss, pouring all of her love and desire into this communion of lips and tongue.

When they finally parted both were breathless.

Connor smiled that crooked smile she loved and murmured, ‘Keep that up and I’ll be turning this car around, Ms Ross.’

She grinned. ‘Mmm, I like that idea. Except I don’t think Evan will stand for it.’ She nodded over his shoulder to where Evan was standing, arms crossed across his chest and one imperious eyebrow raised.

With a laugh, she wiped the lipstick from Connor’s mouth and got out of the car.

‘Why are you looking like a fearsome grizzly, Evan?’ She reached into the backseat for the wine she and Connor had brought as their contribution to dinner.

‘He hasn’t passed the test yet and he’s out here with his tongue down your throat. I’m supposed to be intimidating and scary, Bridget. Don’t you know anything?’ His voice was deliberately whiny.

Connor laughed and held out a hand, which Evan shook firmly. ‘It’s good to know she’s got other people looking out for her. She’s a handful.’

‘You figured that out, did you?’

‘Figured it out? She more or less hit me over the head with it the moment we met.’

‘Really?’ Evan grinned at Bridget. ‘I don’t think I’ve heard that story yet.’

‘Hey now,’ she called at them as they left her to follow, but she wasn’t truly upset. That her two favourite men had so obviously hit it off made her happy. This was going to be a good night.

‘Bridget says you’re an artist, Connor.’

Connor flinched. He never liked discussing his art. It was just too personal. He almost never showed it to anyone. Of all the women he’d dated, Bridget was only the second to ever see his work. It was too much like putting his soul on display and it made him feel too exposed.

‘I dabble, but I’m not a professional artist,’ he said, deflecting Claire’s question.

The night had gone better than he’d expected. Bridget’s friends were a welcoming group. Mona, he’d gotten to know pretty well from her café, but Claire and Evan made an intriguing couple. He got the impression there was more going on to that pairing than met the eye.

It was in the little touches and phrases between the two of them. She’d jokingly called him “sir” at one point and Evan’s reaction had been anything but joking. He’d looked like he wanted to throw his wife on the table and have his way with her, audience be damned.

Yeah, he had a feeling those two were definitely kinky.

Which only furthered his frustration where Bridget was concerned. Her best friend was obviously kinky so she’d had exposure to the idea of it not being wrong. He took a deep breath to dispel the frustration that flared at the memory of how Bridget had soundly shut him down the night before.

She’d pulled out all the stops to show him exactly how good sex could be without any true kink. And, had it actually been sincere and not an obvious manipulation, he would have been over the moon. But it hadn’t been sincere. She’d been detached and calculating throughout the entire experience.

It would have hurt less for her to just stick him with a knife straight through the chest.

‘Connor?’

‘Hmmm?’ He pulled his thoughts back to the present and focused on Mona.

‘Did you hear what I said?’

‘No, sorry. My mind wandered.’ He smiled.

‘I asked if you’d ever thought about showing your work?’

‘Oh.’ He shook his head. ‘No. It’s not something I’m really interested in.’

She smiled and nodded. ‘OK, but if you change your mind, I’d love to see some of your work. I feature a lot of local artists at the café.’

‘Yeah, I’ve noticed. That mixed media artist you’re showing now is really talented.’

‘Thank you.’ Irving, Mona’s date grinned.

‘Is it yours?’ Connor hadn’t taken note of the artist’s name.

He nodded. Connor had to admit, the last thing he would have expected this man to be was an artist. He was built like a linebacker, all broad shoulders and muscle. Connor had figured him for an athlete, not an artist.

‘Didn’t expect that, did you?’ Irving laughed a deep, gruff rumble. ‘Most people don’t. I get a lot of that look.’ He gestured at Connor’s face.

‘My apologies, man.’ Connor laughed with him. ‘You look like you should be scoring touchdowns.’

‘Well, that part helps with the ladies.’ He put his big paw of a hand on Mona’s shoulder and squeezed. Mona flushed a pretty shade of pink.

‘Don’t go getting full of yourself.’ She poked him in the ribs, causing him to flinch.

‘But it’s so fun,’ he good-naturedly returned the ribbing.

Thankfully, the conversation turned to Irving’s work and Connor’s was forgotten, which was just fine with him.

Chapter Twenty-five

‘Why are you talking with me about this?’ Connor gritted his teeth and bit back the curses that wanted to spill from his mouth. They wouldn’t be productive.

‘Sugar, I told you I was going to talk with Mona,’ Bridget said as she reached across the breakfast table and squeezed his hand. Where normally that smoky Southern drawl would have melted his tension, her tone was an obvious attempt at placation and it only served to aggravate him more.

‘Yes, I remember.’ He pulled his hand away. She’d brought the subject up after they’d left Claire and Evan’s house the previous weekend. Picking up his coffee, he took a long gulp and winced as he burned the roof of his mouth. Setting the cup down, he gritted out, ‘I also remember telling you not to do it.’

‘You’re being silly about this.’ Bridget sipped her own coffee and gave a dismissive wave of her hand. ‘You have an amazing talent and you should be doing something with it.’

‘Says who?’ He was being belligerent and childish, but in that moment he didn’t care.

She just stared at him with a scowl. He wasn’t usually so argumentative. Hell, he prided himself on being an easy-going guy, but she had crossed a line. Worse, she didn’t even realise it.

‘Look, there is a very good reason why I don’t share my work. I thought you understood that.’

He stood and gathered his breakfast dishes up, placing them in the sink. He’d deal with them later. Right now, he had to get moving or he’d be late for work.

‘What reason is that, Connor?’ She wasn’t letting up. ‘You’ve certainly never told me.’

Gripping the edge of the sink, he did his best to rein in his temper. Why was she being so fucking pushy? This wasn’t like her.

‘Yes, I did.’ He turned to face her. Her brow was crinkled in confusion and her eyes were dark with worry.

It only served to fuel his temper more.

‘That first day at the café.’ He saw her brows squeeze even tighter. ‘Fuck, Bridget! Over coffee! My parents!’

He was yelling now and he didn’t like the wary look on her face one bit, but he couldn’t seem to find his self-control. He’d expended so much of it on their relationship that in this moment the well was dry.

‘Connor, I don’t understand,’ she entreated. ‘Talk to me. Please.’

‘I killed them, Bridget!’

Before he even realised what he was doing, Connor snatched the mug he’d set on the counter and threw it. It shattered against the cabinet, raining down in small, green ceramic shards on his kitchen floor. Lotus and Daisy came running, but a sharp “stay” from him kept them from treading through his mess.

His chest was heaving and there was a rushing sound in his ears. Leaning heavily on the counter, Connor counted backward from 20. When the sound of the ocean receded, he looked at Bridget. She was rooted in place, her knuckles white around the mug she held.

He felt like an ass, but his control was lost.

‘They died the night I got the award for my art. I was obsessed with art when I was a child. I was also spoiled and threw tantrums when I didn’t get my way.

‘That night, we were running late. Dad had run into some traffic on his way home from work. I kicked up such a fucking stink about it he didn’t even change his clothes.’

His voice broke and his eyes burned. He could still see the irritation on his father’s face. Connor had been relentless, nagging him to hurry so they wouldn’t miss a single moment of his big night. His adolescent ego had been so overblown.

‘If I hadn’t been so damned focused on impressing the world with my talent, they’d still be alive. If I’d just let my dad be, we wouldn’t have been in that intersection when that drunk ran the light.’

Swiping at his cheeks, he said, ‘
That
is why I don’t share my work.’

Bridget moved to his side, but he held her off with a hand.

‘No.’ His voice was thick with grief; he felt as if he was choking. ‘I don’t want comfort.’ He reached for the broom and dustpan. ‘Tell Mona thanks, but no thanks.’

‘You’re wrong, baby.’ She picked up the trash bin and uncovered it for him so he could dump in the remains of the mug.

‘Bridget,’ he warned. ‘This topic is not open for negotiation.’

‘Well, I’m not done talking about it,’ she snapped, catching him off guard. ‘The only person responsible for killing your parents is the woman who got behind the wheel drunk. You were a child doing what a child does and you have nothing to be ashamed of.’

Rage, white and hot, built in Connor’s gut as she spoke. Wasn’t this the pot calling the kettle black! Oblivious to his change in mood, she continued without looking at him as she put the trash bin back in its place.

‘You’ve associated something painful and tragic to something perfectly natural for a child and you are letting it keep you from exploring your full potential.’

‘Are you even listening to yourself?’ His words were more sneer than anything else. ‘How dare you come at me this way when you won’t even admit the truth to yourself about what you want in bed?’

She reeled back as if he’d slapped her, bumping into the counter and rattling the silverware drawer.

Drawing herself up, she retorted, ‘Those things are hardly the same.’

‘Don’t kid yourself, Bridget.’ He ran his hands through his hair, searching for calm and failing to find it. ‘What? Hypocrisy only applies when it’s me. Is that it?’

The colour drained from her face and he felt slightly sick. Still, the words poured out.

‘You hide behind this bullshit you spew about penance and punishment for some “imagined” crime, but the truth is what you want to do in bed is not some deviant sin you need to be punished for enjoying. It is nothing more than sensual exploration that is perfectly fine so long as both parties consent. Your rape was a perversion of that because you didn’t fucking consent!’

He slammed his fist on the counter. She flinched.

‘You want me to tie you up, Bridg. You want me to cause you pain and then make you come. Yet you deny it and hide behind an artificial wall you created and you don’t even see how you’re limiting what we have by doing it. You think we can grow like this, but we can’t.’

He struggled to calm down but there was no calm to be found. Feeling like the ground was opening up underneath him, he ploughed on.

‘You may think it’s OK to have walls and barriers between two people. But I don’t believe there should be any when two people care about each other. And I damn sure don’t believe in artificial boundaries in bed. I believe that as long as both parties consent, and no harm is being done, anything goes.’

He dragged in a deep breath and did his best to calm himself down. He’d been trying to be so patient. This wasn’t how he’d wanted to tackle this with her, but his patience had netted him very little so far. They’d plateaued. He wanted so much more with her and she wasn’t willing to consider it. He was tired of being shut down.

It was time for her to fish or cut bait.

‘Bridget.’ He walked over to her and took her hand. Tears welled in her eyes and he felt awful, but damn it if he was going to apologise for the truth. ‘Look, I apologise for shouting, but I meant what I said. I think we need to talk about this, but right now is not the time. I don’t feel in control of my temper and I don’t want to say anything more I might regret.’

He kissed her forehead and rubbed away a tear that streaked down her cheek.

‘Let’s talk tonight, after work, OK? I’ll make dinner.’

She didn’t speak, but nodded.

Taking her in his arms, he hugged her tight before releasing her and going to shower.

Bridget squeezed the bridge of her nose, trying to will away the headache that threatened with no success. Her head felt as if it was in a vice. Her temples ached and her eyes burned. It had been a constant thing since her argument with Connor that morning.

Tears welled but she fought them. Crying in front of her class would never do. She glanced around to ensure that none of her students was paying any attention to her. Fortunately, they were all busy with their final exam. Pencils were flying and calculator keys were tapping.

Surreptitiously, she wiped her eyes. Her emotions had been on a tilt-a-whirl all day. It was bad enough they were arguing more and more over small things, but that had been gut-wrenching.

She’d never seen him so furious, especially with her.

Each word had been like a tiny knife in her heart. She’d thought the subject was dropped. He hadn’t said a word since their talk, and she’d been happy to let it go.

He apparently had not. This morning had proven that they were far from beyond it, though. She could only hope that dinner would go better. Her stomach clenched at the thought of having to talk about it again.

Maybe, she was wrong. Maybe she should trust him –

‘Problem, Ross?’ Dean Whittier’s voice crawled across her skin, jarring her from her thoughts. She hadn’t seen him come in.

‘No.’ Taking a deep breath, she began to straighten up the papers on her desk.

Things had been different with him as well. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but it was almost as if she could feel the malevolence he had toward her. Her skin prickled every time he was near her.

He’d finally stopped all his suggestive comments, but he was popping up in her classroom more often. Something she couldn’t do anything about since it was his prerogative to audit her classes, especially with her tenure review coming up.

She’d find him looking at her with a look so hateful, she felt physically attacked.

Today was no different; he appeared to be assessing her the way a lion might a gazelle in the Serengeti. She was definitely the prey here.

‘I wanted to inform you that your tenure review has been arranged for two weeks from tomorrow. The panel has been selected and you’ll receive a formal notification of all the procedures. Charlene’s putting together a packet for you.’

‘Thank you.’ She refused to be cowed, but looking into those dead, blue eyes make her stomach twist viciously.

His eyes narrowed, his lips twitched mirthlessly, but all he said was, ‘I’d think carefully about what it will take to get that tenure, Ross.’

Her heart sank, but she just stared into his eyes despite the desperate urge to look away.

After several moments, he gave a soft chuckle and turned to leave, murmuring, ‘Yes, indeed. Think on that, Ross.’

Dale closed the door to Bridget’s classroom behind him and made his way to the men’s room. His dick was rock hard and he didn’t want to walk down the hall advertising his hard-on.

He couldn’t wait to remove that defiant look from her face. She thought he couldn’t see her fear, but it was written all over her.

Good
. The bitch. Everywhere he turned, there she was with that janitor. She had no right to turn him down and then bed down with dogs.

Whore.

He was going to enjoy putting her in her place.

He leaned one hand against the stall as he took his cock in hand. All he could think about these days was her. It didn’t even matter who he was with, in his mind they all had red hair and green eyes.

He stroked his rigid flesh as the image of Bridget formed in his mind. Those ruby lips would wrap nicely around his shaft. She’d suck hard, pulling on him as if to suck the come right out of him.

Lately, he hadn’t even been satisfied with his usual conquests. He’d continued to fuck the waitress from Luna Bella. She was up for anything and it suited him to use her. Especially now Skyler had disappeared.

She didn’t answer his calls and she wasn’t even in class. A check of her records had shown that all of her work was turned in and she’d even taken her finals early.

The little bitch had just disappeared off the face of the planet.

Whatever. She was inconsequential in the end. It hadn’t been the same since she’d let herself get knocked up, anyway.

No, the one he wanted was down the hall, but soon enough she’d be exactly where he wanted her.

That tight little ass would be his to plunder and those tits would bounce as he fucked hard into her. She’d whimper and moan and beg for him to stop and he wouldn’t. He keep fucking her harder and harder and –

His release caught him off guard, slamming into him. Every muscle went rigid as he pumped into his fist, only the barest edge of his fury draining out with his semen.