Choosing the Right Man (NICE GIRL TO LOVE Book Three) (3 page)

Knowing he wasn’t going to like the answer, he asked anyway, “And if he says he wants a second chance?”

The small flare of hope in her eyes wasn’t exactly a shocker. But it still clobbered him in the gut.

He cupped her face in his palms and slid back the curtain of hair she was hiding behind. “If you decide that Connor’s the one you want to be with, I’ll respect your choice and step aside, sweetheart, I promise.”

Pulling her into his arms, he whispered, “But that doesn’t mean I won’t fight for you the entire time until then.” And with no other warning than that, he brought his mouth down onto hers in a searing kiss and slid his hands under her legs to lift her up off the couch. After a brief startled second, her legs immediately wrapped around his waist in reflex.

Christ.

Tearing his lips from hers, he fought to draw in a calming breath. Slowly dropping her back down onto the couch, he placed another soft kiss on her lips before pulling away. “Not until you’re sure, Abby. Not until you know for certain who you want kissing you for the rest of your life.”

And though every fiber in his body fought to hold on to her, called him a fool for not doing everything in his power to drive all thoughts of his brother out of her head
now
before it was too late, he let her go.

It took all the strength he possessed not to follow her as she walked away.

“I love you, Abby,” he said softly as she retreated down the hall to her bedroom, knowing there was no way she could hear him.

Knowing that she would convince herself to come back to him if she did.

Before she disappeared completely into her bedroom, she paused for just the briefest of moments. And in his heart, he swore he heard her say the words back to him, even though the only sound his ears registered was the sound of her bedroom door closing shut behind her.

Grabbing his usual pillow and blanket, Brian dropped down onto the sofa and burrowed in, hoping sleep would take him before all the shoved-aside questions did.

No such luck.

The house was so deafeningly silent, he could hear the hum of every electronic device in the room like a chorus of white noise playing against the symphony of jumbled thoughts crashing around in his head.

It took a full hour for sleep to finally draw him under...and a mere split second to wake up again when the sharp gasp and tortured whimper he’d heard had him bolting to his feet and rushing to Abby’s room.

A
BBY TOSSED AND TURNED
, both hypnotized and frustrated with the images swirling in her mind, ebbing her in and out of sleep, forcing her to straddle the edge of reality...and sanity. One minute she was in bed curled up under the covers, and in the next, she was flat on her back on the counter in her kitchen in mindless bliss. Her sheets were wound tight around her legs, binding her in her dreams as a pair of strong hands skimmed under the fabric, higher and higher, edging her closer to the brink.

She bucked and felt the countertop against her skin once again as she dragged her palms over the flexing, sinewy muscles of his back, memorized every granite hard ridge with her fingertips. Her legs were free now but only for a second before he pulled her hips against his and bound her in newer, better ways. His arms wrapped around her like steel bands as he slipped between her thighs and rocked gently against her heat. Over and over until her entire body erupted with sensation.

And then he was gone again.

Her own hands replaced the invisible ones from her dream and she arched her back, silently calling him back to her. She could hear him. Whispering to her. Telling her all of the things he wanted to do, would do. She arched again and felt his lips graze over her belly, and lower.

Her body wasn’t her own to control anymore. Demanding her eyes to open did nothing. While the swipe of his tongue against her flesh kept her legs pinned to the counter.

No, the bed.

A silent scream escaped her as she felt him plunge into her in one long, slick thrust, his entire length buried to the hilt.

Only to have him retreat. Again.

She bucked up and then slammed back against the bed—no, the counter—as the feel of his teeth closing over her nipple sent her spinning, spiraling toward an orgasm she couldn’t reach.

Lifting her head, she tried to see his face but he stayed hidden in the shadows of her mind even as she felt his gaze sizzling a determined path across her skin, branding her, further chaining her to her dreams.

To him.

His name, poised on her lips, scattered into the empty room as he drove into her one more time and slid his hands down the lines of her torso once again. But the fingers slipping between her legs were her own and the sound of his groan splitting the air was her undoing.

Waves of pleasure twisted over her and his mouth caught hers in a kiss that had her coming all over again with a surge of heat. She felt split in two—her body, her dreams.

Her mind, her heart.

Everything crashed together and she felt him pulling away before she was ready to let him go. She fought to open her eyes, panic coursing through her at the thought of losing him, fear of the unknown clawing at her heart at the thought of finding him.

He slipped from her arms completely and she jolted upright in bed.

Breathing hard, the ability to lift her eyelids returned and she adjusted her vision to the darkness.

Her bedroom, not the kitchen.

Her own hands, not his.

And all the questions in her mind were now weighing a thousand times heavier on her heart.

Drawing in the thick air all around her, she thought about getting up to get some water to cool her parched throat. But the idea of facing Brian so soon after that dream had her swallowing down the sandpapery shards of her guilt, filling her lungs with every conflicting thought that was tearing her in two.

Because she just didn’t know.

So she fell back against her bed and drifted back off into another restless sleep instead.

With the man of her dreams whose face she couldn’t see.

H
OLY SHIT.
Brian paced in the living room and tried to calm the hell down.

She’d been having a sex dream.

He’d left as soon as he’d figured out she wasn’t having a nightmare but
good lord
. It had been the hottest three seconds he’d ever witnessed.

There weren’t many things sexier than watching...that.

He couldn’t even think the words in his brain without torturing his self-control. Worse, Abby had done it with such reckless abandon. Every whimper, every moan had been an intoxicating narcotic in his bloodstream that had taken over his senses, stolen most every civil thought in his brain.

For three heart-thudding seconds, his legs had simply refused to move.

And the resulting image he’d caught of Abby sliding her hands over her own body was burned into his brain.

With a frustrated groan, he grabbed his keys and headed for his car. There was no way he could stay in Abby’s house a second longer. He was well past the cold shower stage. Hell, he was past the
hot
shower stage.

He checked the time on his dashboard.
It was too late to get a drink, not that he was in the right mind place to do so. The irony that he couldn’t ask either of his two usual drinking partners to join him tonight just made his foot press down on the accelerator a little harder, made his destination that much more obscure.

For a half hour, he drove around aimlessly, wanting so desperately to believe that she’d been dreaming about him, that he’d been the one turning her on that much in her dreams.

He didn’t want to even
consider
the alternative.

“Dad, telephone!”

Groaning, Brian stretched up off the couch to reach for his phone...and ended up muttering hello into the TV remote.

“No, my phone.” Skylar handed him her blinged out purple cell. “Grandma said she’s been calling yours but it’s been going straight to voicemail. Where
is
your phone, anyway?”

Right, his phone. It was probably still on the floor of his passenger seat where he’d thrown it after reading the missed text message from Connor that had come in some time between dinner and the movie.

>> I didn’t know, man. I just listened to your voicemail.

Brian saw that a missed call from Connor’s number was recorded in his log shortly after, followed by another text.

>> We really need to talk. Call me in the morning.

No further explanation, not even an apology.

That latter fact had set Brian off, detonated the shrapnel of jagged emotions he’d been keeping at bay all night. Because it meant that not only was Connor not sorry, he had no intention of stopping, or undoing what he’d done by barging back in to Abby’s life yesterday.

Brian’s phone had paid the price for that discovery.

“Hey mom, what do you need?” he groused tiredly.

“Well someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

The reminder that he hadn’t spent the night in Abby’s bed last night did nothing to improve his mood. “Sorry, I just haven’t had my morning coffee yet. Did you need something?”

“Actually, I was calling to invite you three to breakfast.”

Seeing Abby groggily stumble out of her room, looking as tired as he felt, he quickly opted to get them out of going as politely as he could, “Do you think we could we do it some other time? Skylar has a ton of homework to get done before her sleepover tonight and plus, I don’t even know what Abby has planned today.”

At the sound of her name, Abby looked up and gave him a sleep-fuzzy, adorably rumpled smile that sucked half the air out of his lungs. God, he loved her. If he could wake up to that sight every morning for the rest of his life, he’d have led a charmed life.

“Interesting,” continued Helen into his ear, “because I already talked to Skylar and not only is her homework slightly less taxing than she’s apparently led you to believe, she informed me that Abby was planning on spending the morning with you two.” She paused for a pointed second while he silently tried to smother himself with the pillow. “So I’ll see you all in a half hour, dear.”

“Mom—” Criminy, ever since she’d stopped drinking and turned her life around, she’d gotten to become a much bigger, much more
motherly
force to reckon with.

“I want to hear all about Abby’s defense, Brian, is that so terrible? And it’s been so long since I’ve seen Skylar.” A suspiciously vulnerable crack in her voice came then with a tapered off, “But if you can’t even schedule in a few hours for me…”

Well this was a new and unnervingly effective tune she’d added to her repertoire—it sounded like
Guilt the Son in B-minor
.

He sighed. “We’ll be there at eight.”

At eight on the dot, Brian pulled up the back driveway of his childhood home.

“Hey, Uncle Connor is here!” Skylar unbuckled and hopped out, running excitedly past the parked black Lexus and up to the front door.

Brian glanced at Abby. “I think we’ve been set-up.”

Though she looked far paler than she had a minute ago, she managed to give him a weak chuckle. “That Helen is a wily one.”

“If you’d rather I take you home…”

“No, it’s okay. Might as well face the music now.”

He wanted to hold her hand, put his arm around her, something to stake his claim before he walked into that house. But he didn’t. Abby’s expression looked like she was steeling herself for an unknown attack. And that same guilt he’d seen in her eyes yesterday was back.

“Just in time!” his mother called out cheerfully from the kitchen, where she appeared to actually be cooking.
Yikes.
“Congratulations, Abby. Come here and give me a hug. I’m so proud of you.”

Brian saw a tiny bit of the tension ease out of Abby’s shoulders as she smiled her thanks and went over to help his mother with what he assumed was their ‘breakfast.’ Skylar was having a grand old time poking at it like it was a fascinating new science experiment.

Meanwhile, he was focusing all his energy on keeping a lid on his temper as he scanned the house for the one man that was jeopardizing everything he’d been wanting for so long.

“Hey, Brian.”

Try as he did, he couldn’t stop the feeling of resentment that crushed his windpipe in an angry death grip at the mere sound of his brother’s voice. Glancing over at Abby and seeing her watching them warily, he turned around and gave Connor a barely civil nod in greeting.

“She ambushed me, too,” explained Connor in a gruff whisper. “I only came over because she said she threw out her back and needed help with errands this morning.”

Both men watched their mother practically prance around the kitchen, gathering up the ingredients for a second batch of pancakes, this time with Abby at the stove. The first batch of burnt gooey blobs was nowhere to be found.