Caught Up In You 4: The Point of No Return (Edgeplay) (11 page)

 “And you can’t tell me exactly what happened?” Stirring her strawberry daiquiri, she studies my face. “What went wrong?”

 “It’s a misunderstanding.” The bruises on my thighs have faded to yellow. Sick as it sounds, I’m sorry to see them go, this last reminder of my time with Dom Connor. Mr. Edge has been all work and no play, not even spending five minutes alone in the suite with me after the incident the night we arrived.

 He’d arranged for me to go shopping with Rochelle and Lola at the infamous Dubai mall, to tour the Burg Khalifa, the tallest manmade structure in the world. I spent time lounging by the pools in a new bathing suit and sarong, countless hours in the amazing Assawan Spa, getting every treatment from a hot stone massage to balance my Chakras and an organic body wrap that involved having me be trussed up in seaweed like a few of the dishes we dined on at the Al Mahara.

 The dinner had been a disaster. Freshly primped and smoothed and dressed in a newly purchased designer wrap dress, I sat awkwardly in the beautiful room, being ignored in public instead of in private. Connor hadn’t even cracked a smile when I mentioned whoever designed the place where patrons ate seafood in front of the massive aquarium full of fish was a bit sadistic.

 If anything his expression grew darker before turning to talk to his business associates.

 “He’s spent every night in the spare room.” I gestured in that direction. “When he’s not working, he’s sleeping. I feel like a purse dog dragged along for the ride, groomed and pampered, but virtually ignored.” He’d spent a fortune spoiling me though he didn’t say anything, wouldn’t share my bed, or my body, instead treating me like some charity case. Despite the luxurious pampering, I’m tenser than when we got here.

 “Where is he now?”

 “The city. We’re leaving as soon as he gets back.”

 “Well, you’ll have him trapped on the plane at least. If I were you, I’d sit on his lap the entire ride or until he listens to reason.”

 Biting my lip, I look toward the gold and marble staircase. “I don’t think he wants me that close. He’s appalled about stuff that happened with the other him.”

 Setting down her drink, Rochelle rises to stretch. “I don’t know what to tell you, hon. Men can be stupid and stubborn. I mean with you guys being engaged and all—”

 “We’re not.” I look at the ring I’d slipped onto my finger the night after he’d practically run screaming from the room.

 Rochelle frowns at the three carat sparkler. “I just assumed because you’re wearing it and everything.”

 “Remember how he introduced me to Lola?” Dropping my voice to mimic his deeper tenor I say, “This is Baily Sinclair, she use to work on the estate I purchased. Every person he introduced me to, it was the same spiel. No, this is my fiancée or even my girlfriend. Hell, at this point I’d settle for fuck buddy. I don’t know. I just wish he was the other way all the time. Him I get.”

 “Maybe that’s the problem.” Rochelle taps her chin thoughtfully. “Men are insecure creatures at heart. Maybe he knows you’d rather be with Connor dark draft.”

 I can’t help but giggle at the nickname, but my amusement fades fast. “It’s not really a rather thing. It’s just the other version makes everything so much clearer. With this Connor there’s trial and error. We’re always fighting or not communicating at all, like now. I feel like I’m walking on eggshells with him.”

 “Did you ever think that maybe he feels the same way about you? Think about it, Baily. It makes sense that this Connor is somewhat uncertain. He’s the one with big gaps in his memories, right? That’s got to affect a guy’s confidence. And he has to live with the knowledge that you are essentially sleeping with another man while he’s away and there’s nothing he can do about it. He’s got to feel as though you have one foot out the door already. Maybe the distance is just his way of protecting himself from more hurt.”

 My mouth is hanging open. “I never imagined….Do you really think…?” I’m almost dizzy from the possibilities. Or maybe it’s the wine.

 She nods. “If he didn’t want you with him, he would have sent you home. Connor’s no martyr, and you aren’t his cross to bear.”

 It makes so much sense. Here I’ve been steering clear because I thought it’s what he wants. “You are brilliant, you know that, right?”

 Rochelle waves her hand. “Tell it to the critics. My latest release is sinking faster than you can say Titanic. Bonehead critics say I’ve no chemistry with the leading man, can you believe it? I’ve been faking chemistry with men for years.”

 “People are stupid.” I vow to drag Connor to every movie Rochelle is in until the end of time.

 I escort Rochelle down to the ground floor, feeling relaxed enough to take in the sheer decadence of the hotel. We hug. “And you’re going where next?”

 “I’ll be in New York through the holidays, so you and your man need to get everything settled, so Lola and I have someplace to go for Thanksgiving.”

 Rochelle climbs into her Mercedes and I wave. A Rolls Royce passes her as she reaches the causeway and I wrap my arms around myself, knowing instinctively its Connor returning.

 The driver pulls up in front of me and sure enough Connor gets out. Because I’m looking for it I see the dark circles under his eyes. He isn’t sleeping any better than I am.

 “How’d it go?” I fall into step with him.

 “Fine.” He barely looks at me, just strides purposefully into the hotel. This isn’t going to be easy.

 My new purchases are already packed onboard the helicopter so we head straight to the roof. The noise from the rotors makes conversation impossible so I spend the short ride back to the airport figuring out how best to approach him.

 We board the plane and he sits on the opposite side of the aisle from me, staring out at the tarmac. I remember the way he held my hand during takeoff. Though the flight attendant shoots me a dirty look from her space near the cockpit, she doesn’t say a word when I get up and move to sit next to Connor as the plane starts taxiing toward the runway.

 He jumps when I plop down next to him, eyebrows drawing together in a ferocious scowl. “You’re supposed to stay in your seat.”

 “I wanted to be near you.”

 His hands are clenched in balled up fists, and he rests his head against the back of the seat. “I don’t want to do this right now. I’m exhausted.”

 Covering his hand with mine, I say. “All I’m doing is sitting. Take a nap if you want, but I’m not going anywhere, Connor.”

 Rolling his head to the side, he studies me. “How can you even stand to look at me?”

 The loathing, the self-hatred in those words constricts around my throat. “I love you. That hasn’t changed even if you’ve been a jerk by ignoring me all week.”

 He sighs, a weary soul deep sound and I let it go, knowing he won’t answer. But I keep my hand in place and even rest my head against his broad shoulder. His tension abates after a few minutes but the second the fasten seatbelt sign goes off, he beelines for the bedroom. “I’m going to lie down for a few hours.”

 Licking my lips I choose my phrasing carefully, “Do you want me to come with you?”

 He pauses and I see the tightness creep back into his shoulders. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

 A few weeks ago I would have been so hurt by what I perceived as a rejection, I would have missed his response. But I know Connor Edge now, how he thinks. Rising, I pass by him into the bedroom.

 Stripping off my linen pants and white tunic style shirt I sit on the bed and wait. If he retreats back to the main seating area, I’ll let him go. For good. No matter how much it hurts, I don’t want to be with a man who can’t stand the sight of me. Let him explain to the other Connor why I’m gone.

 The air rushes from my lungs when he steps over the threshold and shuts the door. It’s like. The tormented look in his navy eyes is heartbreaking, so much more so when he kneels in front of me and rests his head against my belly whispering, “I’m so sorry.”

 “Connor, look at me.”

 He doesn’t move, so I use his own maneuver against him. Gripping his chin, I force his gaze up to mine and enunciate plainly, “You did nothing wrong.”

 Yanking free of my hold, he shakes his head. “I was pinning you down, covering your mouth. You were crying.”

 “The good kind of crying.” Why did men never understand that. “I was overwhelmed.”

 His expression is still skeptical. “And the bruises on your thighs? Were they the good kind too?” His tone is mocking.

 “Yes,” I say and before he questions me, I strike.

 He jumps, tries to pull back, but determination courses through me. My teeth sink into the tendon along the side of his neck. I seal my lips around that little bit of flesh, sucking, applying pressure so I’m sure to leave my mark.

 An unguarded sound escapes his throat, one of raw pleasure. His hand fists in my hair but he doesn’t try to pull me away. He’s completely still while gnaw on him like a vampire or succubus or some otherworldly creature intent on claiming what’s mine.

 Releasing him, I slide one hand down over his shirt, right over his heart so I can feel it racing. “How do you feel?”

 Though he doesn’t say anything, his hand goes to the side of his neck, to touch the sensitive skin I abused until I left a mark of possession. His eyes are hot and beneath his tailored slacks his cock grows hard, I know, because my other hand travels there, feeling him through his clothes. Enticing him back to me.

 “Everything we did together, everything we ever do together is consensual. It was rough sex. I wanted you to hold me down, to take what you wanted. Do you remember how you were feeling when you first realized what was going on in that hotel room?”

 He closes his eyes, shifting his stance until my hand is traversing his entire length. “Hot, hard, aching to come. I watched my cock disappear inside you, all slick with your juices, felt you squeezing me so tightly inside your body.”

 Circling the crown through the lightweight fabric of his pants I murmur, “Do you think I would have been that way if I hadn’t wanted you to do those things? To mark me, to pound into me, giving me everything you’ve got? I wouldn’t have been wet if there was true force. I wouldn’t cling to you if I didn’t want to keep you.”

 He’s shaking his head even as he rocks into my touch. “You don’t understand, he
wants
to force you. To attack you, tie you up, gag you, fuck you hard and fast. The dreams—” He cuts off when I work his fly open, holding his thick club in my hot little hand.

 “What dreams?” They sound awesome to me, so I have no idea why he’s so freaked about this.

 “I can’t think when you touch me like that,” he gasps. Lowering my head, I engulf him in one hot, wet slide. Again his hands are in my hair as I bob on his cock, working the shaft between my lips, demanding his release. He mutters something, a series of words, but I’m not listening, eager to bring him over quickly. A sated Connor is a reasonable Connor.

 He’s fighting it. His sac is drawn up tight when I cup it in my palm. I roll the twin weights like dice in my hand, caressing and stroking through the thin skin. He bucks forward and a little precum leaks onto my tongue. My clit is hard and throbbing, my sex slippery with need, but I’m afraid if I stop, he’ll call a halt to this.

 
Or will he?

 Giving a blowjob is a strange time to have an epiphany, but that’s when it hits me, with a mouthful of his thick cock. What I’ve been doing wrong. Connor is one man, and Dom Connor is a part of him, just like Snarkarella is a part of me. I’ve treated him like he’s two separate beings, because he’s so different, behaviorally. But deep down, he’s exactly the same guy, with the same urges, desires and instincts. If I can help him tap into those, if he can experience what his dominating side and I do together, maybe he won’t be so appalled by it.

 Decided, I release him and focus on his flushed face. He’s breathing hard, his fingers still tangled in my hair so I can’t go far. Not that I intend to.