She studied his features closely, wondering at his exact meaning. Surely he didn't honestly believe she wouldn't ever have male friends. And for him to stand there and make demands when he came here tonight smelling of another woman? Bullshit. "Maybe," she said slowly.
"Maybe? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"I didn't do anything wrong. I only hung out with those guys at the pool a few times."
Just as quickly as his anger had left, it came roaring back with a vengeance. "In that goddamn little string bikini?"
"It's a public pool for the entire complex. Did you seriously think nobody would use it except for me?"
"I should have fucking known. I should have fucking known the second you stepped outside in that little fucking swimsuit there'd be guys all over you."
"That's not true. They don't come out every time that I do."
"I can see I made a fucking error in judgment. Get your shit. I need to get out of here. I'm still too pissed to be anywhere close to sane about this. I'm still not sure I shouldn't go back out there and kick his ass."
"Where are we going?"
"My house. Pack enough clothes for the weekend, and bring that tiny-ass little bikini."
Jessica was gripped with uncertainty. "No, I'm not ready to leave just yet."
"What?"
"First you need to explain why you waltzed in here at midnight, reeking of bourbon and perfume."
"Nothing happened, that's all you need to know."
"I don't think so."
Pushing his hand through his hair, he turned away from her with a grim expression before, once more, nailing her with his stare. "I had a meeting 'til nine. Wanted to stop and have a drink." His voice stalled, and he mumbled under his breath, 'why am I explaining this' and looked away from her, putting his fisted hand to his mouth and gashing it to his clenched teeth in frustration.
Jessica's spine stiffened. "You don't think I deserve an explanation?" Pain and anger flared up inside of her, all over again. "I'm just the girl you pay to fuck, right Connor?" Jessica made up her mind, right then and there, she wasn't going to tell him yet. She wasn't going to tell him about her windfall until she knew what he really thought. She wanted to know what happened with him earlier, and she didn't need to show him her ace in the hole, not quite yet.
"You know it's more than that, goddamnit," he snarled, his voice twisted in anger, sounding anything but pleased to have to admit it.
"Is it?"
"Yeah, it is . . . if it wasn't, I'd have been able to go through with it," he pushed out through gritted teeth.
Jessica's eyes flared and she felt her face turn white. She began struggling, strongly and violently, and she took him by surprise and was able to squirm out of his arms. She flung herself across the room, and turned to face him, wrapping her arms around her waist in self-protection. She stared across the room at him, tears brimming in her eyes. She didn't know which was the stronger emotion, hurt that he'd gotten so close to picking up a woman that he reeked of her, or relief, that he hadn't gone through with it. And through it all, was the slow burning anger.
He turned slowly to face her, as if it was the last thing he wanted to do, and as he dropped his weight against the wall to lean against it, Jessica saw clearly that he realized exactly what he'd admitted to.
The heat and anger she felt were almost overpowering, but she did believe him. She believed that he hadn't gone through with it. Twin tears spilling over, she wiped at them furiously and spat out at him in an accusatory tone, "You wanted to fuck somebody else."
"I didn't fuck somebody else," he said flatly.
"You wanted to, you went out to find someone."
"We're not going to have this conversation, Jessica. Nothing happened. That's the end of it."
She shook her head back and forth, unwilling to accept that. "This was a mistake, all of it." Throwing one arm wide, she indicated the apartment, the set-up. "I can't live like this anymore."
He stiffened and a mask came over his features. "It's a little too late to back out now."
Continuing to shake her head in jerky movements, she looked anywhere but at him as she tried like hell not to cry.
He pushed off the wall, and came to stand in front of her. Taking her elbows in each hand, he pulled her near. "I'm not letting you out of our arrangement."
Now was the time. Now was the time to tell him. Tell him, already. She couldn't, because she was afraid to. As much as he'd decimated her feelings, something had stopped him from going through with sleeping with the other woman, and that something was what she clung to now. He'd stopped because of her, and that meant he cared for her, if only a little bit. Maybe he was far from admitting it to her, maybe he wasn't even ready to admit it to himself. But she knew that she wanted him in her life, and along with the hurt she felt, there was a small morsel of hope that maybe, just maybe, if they were able to work out all this shit, then they could have a true relationship. A normal relationship, like any other.
But if she told him now, told him about her new job and the scholarship, it might blow up in her face. He might pull away from her altogether, and not be able to allow himself into the kind of relationship that she desperately wanted. There had to be a reason, a deep-seated reason, which had made him turn to finding her the way he had, and whatever that reason was, she was afraid it might stop him from moving forward in their relationship if the money wasn't part of it any longer.
It was too dangerous. If she told him the truth now, he might walk away and refuse to carry forward, and she couldn't chance that. She needed to take it slowly with him, but she had no experience in the matter of men and relationships, and she had no one she could trust enough to share the tangled, sordid story of how they'd met to seek advice from.
So she was on her own with this.
And her female intuition was telling her not to spill the beans yet.
Not if she wanted to keep him in her life.
And she did. God, she did.
****
"It's a little too late to back out now," Connor answered as he tried like fuck to mask the panic her words induced within him.
A rush of ice water slid through his veins and he pushed off the wall and walked over to her, and took a hold of her elbows and pulled her toward him. She was holding back tears, and the frustration and fear settling in his gut shook him to the core. "I'm not letting you out of our arrangement."
He'd known from the very beginning that she wasn't cut out for this. He'd tried to talk himself out of it, but he couldn't. He'd wanted her then, and he wanted her now. Finding out she'd been a virgin had been a blow, because it made him feel like shit, and because it had somehow underlined to him that she really was his. She'd never belonged to anyone else; she was his, and his alone, and he loved that . . . he craved it.
At first, he'd still been in denial, and he was asha
med of abusing her innocence the way he had. That first week, taking her night after night on all fours from behind like a dog after a bitch in heat, just shamed him. That first night, when he'd taken her virginity, had knocked him off balance; he'd loved everything about it. But after that one time, he'd refused himself the further intimacy that the missionary position would have strengthened.
He'd used her physically, but the guilt he'd felt from doing it had made him limit himself to once a day. That first week, every single night, he'd wanted to stay longer, much longer, to take her at least once more. Fuck, every time he'd left her bed and went to clean up in her bathroom, he'd gotten another hard-on within minutes. But something inside of him, some small, innate spark of decency, hadn't allowed his body to take what it really wanted, and he'd slammed out of her apartment every night, frustration eating through his soul.
And then came his epic fail.
The night he'd gotten so jealous when he'd realized she'd been outside by the swimming pool, dressed in only three tiny triangles she'd called a swimsuit. He still didn't know which had been worse. The jealousy he felt, or his shock at the depth of that jealousy. He'd never been one to get jealous. Had no idea he could feel the way he had.
And it had only escalated from there. The fight they'd had, her tears and his storming out. But that hadn't been the fail.
The fail happened when he came back, and for all intents and purposes, forgot what the hell was important to him, and had let himself make love to her like he'd been dying to do. Like he'd been bleeding inside to do.
Epic fail.
Because he hadn't gotten his shit together after that, hell no, he'd been making love to her ever since. And it had been good. So very, very fucking good. He'd known within days that something inside of him had changed, that whatever he felt for her, hidden under the surface, couldn't be put back into the closed compartment where he needed it to be.
And the fear he'd felt when she'd fallen asleep in that damned clubhouse. Jesus Christ. He'd never felt anything like it before. That she was asleep, alone, in an enclosed area where anyone could have come along and trapped her there. Hurt her.