Taming His Tutor

It was down to him to fix it. Only he had no idea how. He, who’d never chased a woman, now had the hunt of his life on.

Finally, in the evening, he touched her name on his contacts screen. A minute later he ended the call. No point leaving a message. He’d go for face-to-face.

Twenty minutes later he was on her doorstep waiting for her to open the door. But there was silence. No light on inside.

No answer.

He tensed. Rapped his knuckles hard on her door again. She’d always been home the other nights he’d come around. She’d always been there for him when he’d wanted her.

Now she wasn’t. Not physically or emotionally.

So where the hell was she?

His blood ran cold. It was Friday night. Was she out on a date already? Was she off doing more research for her app? Possibly not. Probably not. Because the app was done.

Damn. Of course that’s where she was. At that freaking party. Beautiful. On her mission. Fully prepared. All weapons—skills—at the ready.

In his tormented, self-flagellating state, he imagined the worst. Abbi with another guy. Abbi sharing all that enthusiasm and laughter and soft generosity with someone else.

Bile flooded his mouth.

No.

That is not what he wanted. He wanted to be her guy. He wanted her.

Now it really fucking hit him. What he wanted was so much more than just to talk to her. To be friends. To bury himself in her wet heat.

He wanted all of her. For all the time. He didn’t want to go back to how his life had been. Because it had been empty before her. And he’d only just realized it.

He’d been such an arrogant ass. To think he had it all sorted out? Spending his life being Mr. Successful, going from fling to fling—one woman to another. It had been so easy to keep them at a distance. But not Abbi.

He ached for the warmth she brought. He’d liked caring for her. Thinking about what she’d like. Putting someone—her—first.

And she’d let him. At least in the bedroom for a time.

Yeah, she was right, he was a total coward. He’d cut people from his life—those who’d gotten too close. Those with the power to hurt. He’d told himself it was in their best interests. But it wasn’t—it was in his. Protective. So maybe he needed to try what she’d suggested. Reach out. Try to connect.

His palms were damp as he fished for his phone again. All these years he’d kept his sister’s number—kidding himself it was because he could never be bothered to go through and clear up his contacts list. But Brooke’s name was there. Brooke’s number.

She’d be his test run. If he could talk to her, then maybe he’d be brave enough to hunt down Abbi.

…

Abbi had been damn determined not to let her misery interfere with her work and thought she’d succeeded quite well. All she’d done was work. For hours. All through the night. She’d crashed at Nadia’s apartment, showered, and continued with all the party prep. They’d turned the downstairs studio and meeting rooms into a mock palace. Over the top. Decadent.

“The app is done now, right? Isn’t it time to put it into effect?” Nadia had clicked her tongue and leaned against the side of the partition. “You’re the pro, right?”

“Oh yeah.” Abbi had nodded sarcastically. But a spark of defiance had been lit in her. “I am.”

She just had to get on with life. Surely the sooner she got on with it, the sooner she’d get over Joe. And she really needed to get over him. She needed to quit the whole “lying in bed aching and wanting and hurting for a man who was off-limits”.

“Attagirl.” Nadia had stepped forward and bent to hug her. “Go you.”

“Yeah.” Abbi’d rolled her eyes and turned back to her screen. “Go me.”

Nadia, with all her insight, had known not to push for the reviews on the sex products. Instead she pushed the chocolate toward her. And then the glam makeup. She’d dress up. Cover up. Carry on.

It was time to party.

Now, two hours into it, she was still heartbroken, but at the same time was really proud of herself for making the effort. She’d smiled. She’d made eye contact. She asked questions and listened. There were some serious hotties, too. And nice guys.

That’s what really brought it home. All the new skills and confidence she had? All the great lessons she’d learned from her tutorials?

It wasn’t the moves Joe made that did it for her, but Joe himself. Only him.

Now she knew the difference between hot sex and hot sex with someone you loved. She’d had both with Joe. Both had brought her amazing awe-gasms. But that last time? When she’d known she loved him? When she’d tried not to love him?

The whole thing had been a fuckup. How had she thought she could handle such a sex-lesson scheme? And why couldn’t she think of some way to try to fix it?

If she could ask for what she wanted in bed, why couldn’t she ask for what she wanted outside of it?

Maybe she’d made a mistake in not letting him into the rest of her life. Or not confessing her growing feelings until her mad go at him last night. This could have been so much more than a few rounds of superhot sex.

But he didn’t want anything else. He liked his lifestyle—short-term flings, with his work as his one real passion. He didn’t want any more complicated. And maybe, given his background, that was fair enough.

It was his choice.

And she couldn’t bear the thought of him rejecting her again. Last night had been bad enough already; she didn’t need to make it worse by adding in some kind of plea from her and another dismissal from him.

She just had to toughen up. She’d have a fulfilling, fun sex life. Eventually.

Once she’d recovered.

She glanced around the room filled with beautiful people. The bubbles were flowing freely, the DJ was spinning outstanding tunes; it couldn’t be more cool. And it was time for her to leave. She’d put in enough of a show. She was too tired for more. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone tall. Ultra-tall. No way. She looked. Yep, ultra-tall, ultra-broad-shouldered. Ultra-hot.

He was here?

For a second she’d thought he was there for her. But of course he wasn’t. He was there talking to Tracy, the model he’d manipulated into position for that photo spread. So of course he was here. He was the online exer-freaking-cize columnist. He wasn’t here for her at all.

And oh crap. He’d caught her eye. Seen her and now he was walking…

She spun her back to him and grabbed Nadia. “Hide me. Please.”

Where was the exit? There was no dignity now, only the desperate need to escape.

“From…?” Nadia spun around to face what Abbi had turned from. “Oh, hi, Joe. You here to party?”

“There’s only one reason I’m here,” he answered, staring hard at Abbi.

“Oh.” Nadia paused.

Joe didn’t offer anything more. Just kept his gaze locked on Abbi.

“Okay then. Well, great. I’ll just let you two…oh forget it.” Nadia vanished.

Joe stepped closer. Too close. He reached for her. “You were right. And wrong.”

Pulse flying, instinct telling her to flee, she stepped out of his reach. His hands dropped.

“Right and wrong?” she asked. So not going to lose it here.

“No. Yeah. Maybe.”

She frowned. Joe was never this indecisive.

“Okay.” She pulled herself together. “How can I help you?”

He clenched his jaw for a second, then visibly relaxed. “You want to get out of here?”

She hesitated.

“We could go somewhere for a quick drink, or something? Coffee? Beer?” he added quickly.

She licked her dry lips, disappointed and grateful and surprised. And totally unable to say no. “Sure.”

“I’ll drive. I haven’t had anything to drink.”

“Great.

“How…was your day?” she asked lamely as she got into his car. I

f she kept him talking, the conversation on his work, maybe she’d be okay.

“It was fucked, thanks for asking.”

Or maybe they’d just sit in awkward silence until they got to wherever he was taking her.

Silence it was.

“What kind of place is Woody’s?” she asked when he pulled up in front of a bar down a quiet street several blocks away from where the hipsville party had been.

“A good place to sit and shoot the breeze.” He locked the car and walked her to the door.

That’s what he wanted to do with her now? Great. Had she somehow been relegated to friend status now that the sex lessons were done? Had she dreamed the whole hideous argument of last night or something?

Or was she dreaming now?

“The app looked good—“Allure”? People were into it,” Joe said, ushering her into the half-empty bar.

“Yes.” She smiled brightly, taking a seat at the counter. They’d had iPads scattered around with the app open for people to play with it. Slick and fun, it had been a hit, but it would always be “Vixenator” to her. “My boss is thrilled.”

“Fantastic.”