Resisting the Bad Boy - Nice Girl to Love, Vol 1 (Can't Resist #1)(21)

Years, maybe.

Suddenly, the parched thirst for every desire he’d been denied this past week, every variety of warmth and affection he hadn’t really ever noticed not having until now had him pouring his soul into their kiss like a lost man aching to be found.

Soon, comfort was the last thing on his mind.

“You’re killing me here,” he drew back, but not far. Brushing his lips against her soft lips back and forth, he was amazed at how alive the simple contact felt, how every last little experience was more vibrant with Abby. “I don’t think I can last another week of this. Wanting you this bad without having you.”

Her breathless, “Me neither,” did nothing to cool him down. He lifted her onto the granite and slid between her legs, feeling her heat even through the cotton barrier of her shorts.

“Good lord, you’re huge,” she gasped.

He’d have smiled if he weren’t gritting his teeth. “And you’re wet. For me.” He traced his tongue over the racing pulse at her throat, the beat a near match to the pounding he felt all through his veins. “If you want to stop, tell me now.”

It’d kill him, but he’d back off if she said the word.

Before she could say anything at all, however, he thrust his hips against hers again in reminder—and promise—of what a ‘yes’ would entail. A rush of male satisfaction assailed him when she moaned and locked her legs around his waist. He wasn’t playing fair, but right now, it was hard to police himself. Not with her teeth raking across his neck every time he rocked against her. Not when every gorgeous sound coming out of her just made him even harder. Want her even more.

His name fell from her lips then and he almost lost it. Raw and needy, the sound was pure sex-on-tape. And the look on her face as she said it cast a thick, lust-filled spell on him, had him growling in hunger by the time she finally pulled him in for a kiss—the first one he didn’t have to instigate.

Christ, it was sweet.

He loved sinking his fingers into her lush curves, sealing her tight against him as he drove deeper and harder against her core. Every quick, broken cry she couldn’t hold in was like a homing beacon, steering him as he nudged his erection higher, over the one spot that effectively scattered her breathing and compelled her to all but ride him as he did his best to simply hold on and take stock of what little control he had left.

“Touch me,” she whispered.

His restraint snapped.

He slid a hand under the hem of her t-shirt, undid her bra and pushed the offensive thing out of his way. Plump and ripe, she filled his hand and then some. His lips broke away from hers on a groan as he skimmed her shirt up.

And just stared.

She was perfection. Softly rounded and feminine, just like the rest of her. Delicate. Sexy. He had to taste her.

“Stop.”

For one horrifying moment, he truly thought he wouldn’t be able to. Jaw clenched, eyes shut tight, somehow, he managed to inch back at the very last second with a ragged curse that blew hot and harsh across her skin.

She cried out. The sensation making her arch and send her taut nipple grazing against lips.

He wasn’t strong enough. A better man could’ve fought the temptation but not him. He lashed his tongue out, dragged it over the sensitive peak awaiting him. Once. Twice.

She asked you to stop. He yanked himself back, panting, appalled at his lack of restraint. Even amidst his self-flogging, his mind still tornadoed with images of taking her right there on the counter, over and over until stopping was the last thing either of them would be capable of, until they burned through whatever this was building between them. And then started all over again.

Holy shit. He curled his hands into fists and kept his eyes off her naked breasts, away from everything he couldn’t have, so goddamn close he could taste it.

Did taste it…for three mind-bending seconds.

“I…” she began, crossing an arm over her chest.

“No need to explain,” he cut in, voice strained. “I told you to tell me if you wanted to stop.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, trying like hell to punch out some space for his raging hard-on. “I better go up and get changed for dinner.”

A tiny, trembling hand on his arm prevented his escape. “I’m so sorry, Connor. I’m not trying to be a tease or anything, I swear. I just need to stick to something when I say I will. Especially this something.”

“Forget about it,” his voice gentled. “Don’t apologize for saying no, Abby. You can always, always say no.”

Her hand fell away. And something in her silence made him study her face closely. “Honey? Are you okay?”

“That’s just it. Just because I can doesn’t mean I always did. Which is why I need to stick to these two weeks.” She shook her head sadly. “You wouldn’t understand.”

No, he was starting to get that he didn’t understand anything fully when it came to Abby, when it came to what was clearly more than just the game of wits and stamina he’d thought it to be. “Then why don’t you explain it to me, sweetheart.”




“IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT, you know,” she teased with a rueful shrug, trying to make light of the situation, knowing that she now had Connor’s undivided attention. “I’ve never had a problem sticking to my guns until now. That’s why I made that stupid wager with you. Because I got cocky with an undefeated record that’s spanned nearly twelve years.”