Resisting Her (24 page)

“Yeah babe?” He continued his slow movements
along his engorged shaft, his hand gripping the base and sliding up
over the sensitive tip.

Her gaze darted down to his groin and she bit
her lip again. “Did you…um, do that…when you thought about me?”

Her question surprised him. He hadn’t
expected her to have the balls to ask something like that. “Yeah. I
did.”
Often. Too often.

She sucked in a breath and reached for his
cock, gripping her hand tightly around his. Cole’s movements
stilled momentarily, appreciating the feel of her warmth. But the
desire reflected in her eyes forced his hand to slide up and over
his head once again. He pulled in a shuddering breath. Introducing
her soft hand to the mix upped the pleasure quota significantly. He
let her grip him, and he guided her— nice and slow. “Savannah,” he
whispered.

Her eyes flashed to his. “How often did
you…do this before we slept together?”

Fuck. Was she really asking him how often he
masturbated? He couldn’t answer that question. “Enough.”
Daily.

She smiled, seemingly satisfied with his
non-answer. Savannah’s free hand fumbled with the button on her
jeans and Cole abandoned his show to help. Once her jeans and
panties were off, he took a moment to just admire her. She was so
lovely—soft where a woman should be soft, curvy and delicate at the
same time. God, even her feet were fucking pretty. He wanted to bow
and worship her body like she deserved, but she pulled off her
shirt and scrambled across the bed to him. She perched on her knees
on the edge of the bed, wrapping her arms around his neck and
lifting her chin to kiss him. Her chest pressed against his, warm
and molding to his form. Her warm tongue slid against his and he
was lost to all rational thought. He needed to taste her, to be
inside her, to own her…

“Cole?” Savannah broke away from the kiss,
her hands planted on his chest, roaming over his tensed abs.

“Yeah?” He stroked a single fingertip along
her cheek. “What is it?”

“I don’t want this to end. Me and you.”

His shoulders relaxed. He loved her bravery,
her honesty. And he’d been slightly worried she was going to tell
him this wasn’t a good idea. “Me neither.” It was the absolute
truth. He wasn’t willing to lose Savannah. Whatever it took. He
couldn’t explain how or why, but she belonged with him. He ignored
the tightening in his chest, refusing to acknowledge how he could
possibly have a future with Savannah with his past still firmly
gripping him.

He pushed her shoulders back, and she fell
against the bed, giggling. But her laughter died when he pulled her
thighs apart and positioned himself at her entrance. Fuck using a
condom. He needed her too bad. They’d have to risk it, something
he’d never done before. But realizing the decision wasn’t just his,
he stopped just short of entering her. He placed a palm flat on her
stomach. “I want to feel you without a condom …are you okay with
that?”

Savannah’s expression pinched for just a
moment, as if she was counting the days. “It’s fine,” she murmured.
She gripped his hips and tugged him forward. Cole obliged, taking
the base of his shaft and guiding himself into her impossibly tight
channel.

There was nothing between them. New
sensations flooded Cole’s system. “Fuck, Savannah,” he growled as
she squeezed around him. Normally he found reaching his release
difficult, sometimes taking close to an hour — but not with
Savannah. Being inside her was an entirely new experience. He was
like a teenager trying not to come too soon. Savannah’s parted lips
and flushed chest only spurred him on, and when she released a
series of tiny high-pitched moans, he nearly came undone. His
fingers gripped the flesh of her hips as he drove in faster,
seeking his release.

Savannah’s hands clutched at his hands, his
stomach, anywhere she could reach as her moans built. “Cole!” She
groaned a final time in an incoherent tumble of sounds and tossed
her head back against the pillow, her back arching as she came.

His own orgasm hit him like a punch to the
gut, crashing against him, causing his legs to nearly give out as
his body tensed and jerked. He fell on top of Savannah, finding her
mouth for several damp kisses as he emptied himself into her in a
series hot bursts.

The situation with Dillon had been handled
better than he could have hoped. The new job he’d left the compound
to pursue was dealing drugs.
Moron
. When Norm sent the guys
out to pick him up for questioning, they found him with enough
marijuana in his car to lock him up for a while. That didn’t mean
his obsession with Savannah had ended, but at least he wouldn’t be
able to get anywhere near her for a while. And when the time came,
Cole would be there to keep her safe. Her hand squeezed his and
Cole smiled at the gorgeous girl next to him.

“Almost home,” he said.
Home
. It had
felt more like a home since Savannah had moved in.

“I can’t wait to see Cuddles.”

Cole pulled into the parking lot of his condo
complex and his eyes couldn’t quite process the scene before him.
Abbie was standing on the sidewalk, her arms folded over her chest
watching his SUV approach. His eyes flashed to the clock on his
dash.
Fuck
. A curse tore from his chest at the sight of her.
He had missed their Sunday appointment and now she was here. Here.
At his home. Savannah’s home.

He considered gunning the engine and tearing
out of the parking lot, but he didn’t have the strength to lie to
Savannah anymore. His past was here—staring down his future,
shattering his heart into a million tiny pieces.

***

Watching the fragile dark-haired girl run to
Cole and throw herself into his arms knocked the wind from
Savannah’s chest. She placed a hand against the hood of the Tahoe
to prop herself up. Cole placed his hands on the girl’s shoulders,
gently moving her away from his body. His eyes flashed to
Savannah’s, panic written all over his face.

“This is Abbie,” he said, but didn’t offer
anything more.

Savannah hated the familiarity between them —
the way Abbie’s body tilted towards his and the way his fingers had
knowingly soothed down her arms as he moved her away. Abbie turned
to look Savannah over, her bright blue eyes burning with curiosity.
Abbie was thin and pretty with delicate features. She was dressed
casually in a pair of worn jeans and flowing pink top that was too
large on her tiny frame.

“Is this her?” Abbie asked him.

Cole nodded. “This is Savannah.”

Abbie’s gaze found Cole’s, seeking
permission, before she thrust a hand out to Savannah. There were
scars marring her inner wrist and when Savannah’s gaze lingered on
the puckered white flesh, Abbie pulled her hand back and stuffed it
into her pocket. “Hi,” Abbie offered, smiling carefully. “Cole’s
told me a lot about you.”

Savannah remained speechless. She felt sick.
Humiliated.

Abbie turned back to Cole, her expression
softening. “You didn’t show up today, I got worried. Are you mad I
came here?” She lifted a hand to his cheek, but Cole caught her
wrist.

His eyes flashed back to Savannah. He
flinched, opened his mouth, then closed it again. There was nothing
he could say. Savannah’s skin tingled as awareness flooded her.
This was who he spent every Sunday with?

The scars on Abbie’s wrists, the needy way
she looked at Cole like a child separated from its mother, it
struck her like a thump to the head — all the times he’d looked at
her like she was unstable, fear in his eyes that she’d break down
and lose it. Did he have some strange calling to save needy girls?
She wasn’t like this girl, and she resented his careful watch even
more now, because it meant memories of Abbie were still right there
at the surface.

He turned to Savannah, handing her the keys.
“Can you ah, give us a minute?”

Savannah wished she had some place to go —
anywhere but inside his house. She wanted to flee somewhere far
away from here, but she accepted the keys and ventured up the
stairs, too stunned to cry, too shocked to process what she’d just
learned.

***

Cole had gotten rid of Abbie and ventured
inside to talk to Savannah. He needed to come clean about
everything—all of it—not spare any of the details.

He found Savannah hiding underneath the
comforter in the guest room, whispering to a squirming mass under
there with her. He’d let her down, and she’d turned to the dog for
comfort. It was a sobering thought.

He sat quietly on the edge of the bed. Her
whispering stopped as soon as the mattress dipped with his
weight.

“You don’t have to talk to me. Just listen,
okay?” He released a heavy sigh, knowing this conversation was long
overdue. “I first met Abbie just after college. She was broken—a
project for me—someone I could focus my energy on since I’d been so
powerless to prevent my parents’ deaths.” Cole scrubbed his hands
over his face. It was harder than he thought it’d be admitting all
this out loud. “Abbie was a cutter, which I’d found out later. She
was abused as a child. She was a wreck when we first started
dating. Our relationship was full of self-doubt, jealousy, and at
times intense passion.” Cole wished he could see Savannah’s
expression, get a sense of how she was taking it. But the damned
comforter covered her from head to toe. “We dated for two years,
and eventually she got better. Later I came to realize that I
wasn’t in love with her — I’d only been in love with the idea of
saving someone. Once Abbie was well, the intensity behind our
relationship all but disappeared.”

Savannah pushed the covers down, her face
coming into view. He expected her to be crying, but her eyes were
dry, curiously gazing at him; her face relaxed.

“I tried numerous times to break things off
with her, but Abbie would freak out. So I’d stay. We hung on that
way for another six months until I couldn’t endure the cycle
anymore. I ended it for good.”

Cuddles squirmed her way out from the
blankets and licked Savannah’s nose. She folded the puppy along her
side and mumbled, “Keep talking.”

“I broke up with her and thought I was done.
Of course, I hadn’t expected Abbie to try and end her life. But
that same day, she’d slashed her wrists. Her roommate found her and
rushed her to the hospital, and called me on the way. When I saw
how truly broken she was—pale and weak in that hospital bed, tubes
running everywhere—I knew it was my fault. I’d vowed to save her,
and now she was worse off than she’d ever been. Because of me. It
ate away at me, and I knew I couldn’t run again. Not when she was
so incredibly fragile.

“Abbie stayed at the hospital for a few days,
she’d lost a lot of blood, and when she recovered physically from
the suicide attempt, she was taken to a psychiatric facility. She
stayed there for over a year before she moved back into her own
apartment, just down the road from here. We never rekindled our
romantic relationship, but all this time—close to five years
now—I’ve faithfully visited her every week, as a friend, and as her
security blanket, I guess.”

Tears began to fill Savannah’s eyes as she
sat stoically.

“Savannah? Please say something,” he
begged.

Savannah grabbed her car keys and left.

“What the fuck did you do?” Marissa’s voice
shrilled from the phone as he sat at the bar.

“What are you talking about?” In Cole’s
drunken state, it took him a second to comprehend the anger in her
voice.
Oh. Fuck.

Her voice dropped to a whisper, “Why is
Savannah camped out in my bathroom?”

“Cole? Answer me, dammit,” Marissa
shrilled.

He dragged the phone away from his ear,
closing his eyes. Maybe those six Jack and Cokes he’d knocked back
weren’t the best idea. “I fucked up, okay? Is that what you want to
hear, Rissa?”

She stayed silent.

“Is she really in the bathroom crying?”

“Of course she is. She told me, well as best
she could, about Abbie. Goddammit Cole, that girl was a wreck. I
had no idea you were still seeing her all these years.”

“Yeah…well…” He scrubbed a hand over the back
of his neck. Marissa had met Abbie years ago when they were dating.
Liam’s questioning gaze met his, silently asking him if he wanted
another drink. Cole waved him away. “Pretty fucking stupid of me,
huh?” He had put his own life on hold, barely dated, barely did
anything but work and faithfully visit Abbie every Sunday, simply
because he knew it cheered her up. And then when the whole Dillon
thing cropped up, he’d completely forgotten about her. He’d never
forgotten a Sunday before. Never.

Marissa sighed. “I didn’t say that. But
Jesus, Cole, you can’t take sole responsibility for saving every
girl you meet. And Savannah didn’t need saving. She just needed
your love.”

“Don’t tell me what Savannah needed. I know
what she needs,” he said, anger bubbling up inside him. He gripped
the bar until his knuckles turned white, avoiding the urge to hit
something.

“Listen, I’ve got to go. Savannah’s just come
out.”

“Let me talk to —” The phone went dead.

Fuck!
He slammed his phone down onto
the bar in front of him. Liam sauntered over, eyeing him with
caution. “Was that Savannah?”

“No.” He didn’t mention it was Marissa,
because every time he brought Marissa’s name up lately, Liam wanted
to play twenty questions with him. He was almost ready to tell him
it was fine — he could ask his sister out—but figured he’d make him
suffer a little more. Cole tried to stand, gripping the bar for
support.

Liam shook his head. “I’ll call you a cab.
Take your drunk ass home.”

“I’m not drunk,” Cole slurred. Okay, maybe a
little. “Yeah, all right,” he conceded.