Destination Connelly (5 page)

“Never say never, princess,” I tell her softly, using the endearment I had for her long ago.

She tips her head up glaring at me in defiance, her jaw set in a hard, insolent line. “Never is the only word that applies in this particular situation.”

“What can I do to change your mind?” I don’t like the pleading tone I hear in my own voice. I know Nora doesn’t miss it when her demeanor softens slightly.

“Why me, Connelly? You can have any recruiter here. Why me?”

There are so many answers to that question.

It’s always been you.

I didn’t realize how dead inside I’ve been without you until today.

I won’t be satisfied until I possess every last shred of you, until your very breath is mine and mine is yours.

Instead, I lean forward and let my lips brush the shell of her ear when I rasp, “I don’t think you’re ready to hear the
real
answer to that question yet, Nora.”

When her breath hitches, a memory slams into me: her making that same noise the first time I entered her. Christ, I am a masochist. Being this close to her without my lips or my hands on her is sheer torture. Her smell is driving me bat-fucking-mad. Existing in a hush, the heat of our bodies blending into the other’s, we’re both suspended in the past.

Remembering.

Wanting.

Aching.

The tenderness of the moment makes me want to wrap her in my arms and carry her to the closest bed so I can spend hours reminding her how good we were together. With great effort, I pull myself out of the clutches of the past and back to the task at hand.

“I think you should talk to Carl before making your final decision,” I tell her quietly, pulling back just enough to grab her eyes again with mine. They’re wild with want, her cheeks tinged ruddy pink with desire. Just looking at her steals my breath like it always used to.

The warmth of the moment ices over when her feisty comes roaring back with resounding force. “I already have,” she spouts tersely. Goddamn her stubborn ass.

“Do it again, Nora.”

“Stop this, Connelly,” she beseeches. “It’s not too late. Just walk away from the deal. Please.”

Jesus, her begging just about undoes me, but I want this too badly. I want
her
too much and while this is a good business decision for Wynn and GRASCO, I also know it’s the only way I’m going to get close enough to make her mine again.

“Can’t do that, sweetheart.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Irrelevant.”

She stands there, stony. Angry. Pissed as fucking hell. But she’s also as turned on as I am. I spent months studying her, learning her telltale signs. And those are signs I will never forget. There are so many things I’ve never forgotten about her and basking in her presence again soothes my soul like nothing else I’ve known. Jesus, I have missed her.

“Am I free to leave now or are you going to block the exit again?”

“I never blocked the exit, Nora. You’ve always had free will here.”

“Hmm. I wonder why it doesn’t feel like it then.” Her jaw ticks in anger. That twinge of remorse returns, because she’s right. I’ve made her a generous offer, yet I’ve also taken away her choices. She may not quite realize that yet, though she will all too soon. I can only imagine how she’ll react when she finds out the corner I’ve backed her into.

I move to the side, letting her pass. As she skirts by her arm brushes mine leaving her energy behind on my skin. It penetrates through my suit jacket and dress shirt and now crackles on my forearm. I want more of it. I want it blanketing every inch of my naked flesh. I want her energy tied to mine so we ache without the other.

With a huff, she yanks open the door and leaves without another word or a look back, the heavy oak automatically closing behind her. The soft sound of the latch clicking resonates in the now-deserted space.

I blow out a long, frustrated breath. I knew this would be a challenge. Everything with Nora always was. I realize from her perspective I’m waltzing in here trying to scoop up a life she’s built and rearrange it, but I get the distinct impression she doesn’t have the whole story either.

Her “uncle” came to me first.
He
pursued this merger initially. I’ll admit I became aggressive about making the merger happen after I found out his connection with Nora. But that was after the fact. Carl Steele has gotten cold feet a couple of times, but that’s to be expected. He’s selling his blood, sweat, and tears and regardless of the circumstances, it’s hard for any successful man or woman to sell their legacy. I also happen to know why he’s being forced to sell. A fact I’m betting Nora’s not privy to.

All of that is irrelevant, though, as I told her. After seeing Nora again, I would just as soon set myself on fire than willingly walk away from her.

She belongs with me.

She always has.

She always will.

Now I just need to make her see that.

N
ora

“
H
i
. I’m Connelly.”

I slide my eyes to the god-like basketball stud who just glided into the open spot next to me like it was reserved for him. He’s tall and filled out for a junior. The light facial hair he’s sporting makes him look as if he belongs on a college campus instead. I’m surprised to see he’s far more graceful than I ever thought someone of that height could be, but I shouldn’t be. I’ve seen him on the court. He’s like liquid nitrogen. Fluid, steamy, and definitely dangerous to the touch.

Connelly Colloway is sinfully handsome. He’s a talented athlete. Smart, I hear. Aaaand he has a quite a reputation with the ladies, of which I will
not
be one. The last thing I need is to get involved with a boy who’s probably had his dick wet by most of the girls here. I have grand plans for my life, one of which doesn’t include getting an STD.

I shudder.

Nope. He needs to go. He’s temptation sent by Lucifer and his intent is very clear. Drag me down into his dark den of depravity with him. Well, Lucifer, consider this mission a fail, because he’s a sinful lure I will not fall victim to.

“Yes, I know.” I turn my attention back to my peanut butter-and-jelly sandwich. Childish, maybe, but I don’t think you’re ever too old to enjoy one of your favorite food groups. Fat and sugar. Yum.

“You know, you’ll have to stop eating those once you’re my girlfriend.”

I guess his ego is right up there with his womanizing. He doesn’t seem to get the subtle hint I’m not interested. I laugh and swivel back toward him. “Wow, I’m not sure where to start with that comment.”

Looking at him up close and personal is definitely a mistake. A big, fat, mother of all mistakes I wish I could undo. His smile is disarming. I mean, completely mind erasing. I’m disgusted by the tingle it sends to the dark, unbreeched area between my legs.

“I’m allergic to peanuts, you see.” He nods toward the delicious goodness I hold in my hands. Skippy and Smucker’s grape jelly slathered between two pieces of the softest white bread man can buy.

“I’m sorry for you, but I don’t see how that’s my problem.”

He leans over close to my ear as if he has a secret to tell and doesn’t want anyone else to overhear. “It’s your problem, Nora, because if even so much as a fragment of a peanut touches my tongue, my throat closes and I can’t get enough air to stay alive. And that would certainly kill the moment.”

“What moment is that?” I hear myself stupidly ask, enjoying the way my name sounded rolling off his tongue waaay too much, along with the fact he even knew my name in the first place. He hasn’t moved back, even a fraction of an inch. When I feel his nose nudge the delicate skin underneath my ear, I shiver and close my eyes, forgetting we’re in a lunchroom full of gossipmongers. That, and I’m the new girl in school with the hot class president and basketball team captain whispering sweet nothings in my ear and looking at me as if he wants to eat me for lunch instead of the burger in front of him. I’m pretty sure I just made an entire school full of enemies—
all female
—with claws that will be razor sharp by next period.

Fabulous. Three weeks into my new high school and I’ll already be ostracized because someone I have no interest in won’t take no for an answer. Well…maybe I have a
little
interest, but I certainly won’t act on it. Connelly Colloway is a life-altering bad mistake.

“Our first kiss, of course,” he breathes. The confident words dance on my skin, enticingly, making me feel every bit of the schoolgirl that I am. I immediately envision his lips on mine. Would they be as pillow soft as they look? Would he be gentle or demanding? Would the first touch of his tongue on mine bind our souls together forever as I fear it could? Well…it could mine. Doubtful this playboy has the ability to bind anything except maybe his dick. At least I hope he wraps it up. Not that I care because it will never get close enough to me to matter.

When he pulls back, the whites of his teeth blind the rest of my common sense into the far recesses of my mind and, wow, suddenly I don’t remember why it would be a bad idea to like this guy.

“Hey asshole, you beat me to her,” a throaty voice says on the other side of me. Connelly and I hold our heated stare longer than appropriate, but he breaks it to look over my shoulder at our intruder before I’m ready to let it go.

“Yep, so you can piss off, Alan.”

“Like fuck. Hi, I’m Alan Johansen. Star center and all around good guy. And I don’t have near the reputation of this one, so your virtue is safe with me.” He gestures with his chin to Connelly and a wink to me.

I don’t believe for a nanosecond my virtue is safe with either one of these stunning, egotistical men.

“Wow. It’s starting to stink in here with the shit that just poured out of your mouth. Bet it tastes bad, too,” Connelly jibes, but there is a definite bite to his tone. It sounds a lot like jealousy. I find myself wondering why that makes my skin heat.

I recognize the guy to my right as one of Connelly’s teammates. He’s handsome, no doubt, and seems just as cocky and self-assured as the one to my left. Though I know they aren’t brothers, with their dark hair, same height, and same build, they sure could be, except for the unique, startling hazel eyes God blessed Connelly Colloway with.

As I sit between these two vying for my attention as if I’m the last female on earth—or fresh meat—I feel a magnetic pull toward Connelly like I have with no one else before. I know I could easily fall head over heels for him if I let myself. Which I can’t. He’s a heartbreaker, that one.

I spend the next ten minutes trying to dodge pass after pass being tossed at me faster than a Harlem Globetrotter before I excuse myself and spend the rest of my lunch break out on the grassy lawn, bundled in a jacket to shield myself against the cool spring wind. I may be cold, but at least my thoughts aren’t clouded with testosterone and something I’m not all that familiar with…acute longing.

W
ith a glass
of Merlot in my hand, I sit quietly on my patio and reminisce in the darkness of night. I’ve been an absolute wreck since this afternoon. All the love I have felt for Connelly still lies right underneath my thin skin just waiting for it to be split open so it can bleed, finally running free. I was able to keep it locked down, dormant…until I walked into that conference room today and saw his arrogant ass sitting there.

Now, against my will, all those latent feelings wash like tidal waves through my heart and I let loose the tears I’ve been holding back all day. His smoldering eyes were full of hurt, anger, and lust. But it was the longing I witnessed that almost broke me.

When I first met Connelly, he appeared to be the classic cliché I despised. Cocky and full of nothing but himself and silky smooth lines. The kind of guy who worked and worked until he got into your pants, but once he did…bam. You were now just another tally in the “win” column that he and his buddies would brag about.

After that day in the cafeteria, I avoided his relentless pursuit. For months I was successful. The thing was, though…I
wanted
to be around him. I crushed on him. Big. Time. Arrogant or not, he was still the guy every single girl in school wanted to snag so they could hang pictures of him in their locker and walk down the hall between classes hand in hand. Maybe even sneak off behind school to make out whenever they could. They wanted the right to call him
“
my boyfriend.
”

And why wouldn’t they? In addition to being gifted athletically, he was wickedly handsome and had a magnetic personality. Everyone—eventually including me—was helpless to its pull. He was witty. A leader in every single way. Intelligent and undyingly loyal to his friends, his team, his family. His smile was infectious. His deep laugh carried down the hall, making everyone smile when they heard it.

He was the classic overachiever you wanted to hate, but he made it impossible. Teachers, coaches, and students alike loved him, revered him even. I never heard a bad word spoken about Connelly Colloway, even by the girls he left behind like a trail of crumbs. He was genuine, big-hearted, and just plain likeable. He might as well have had a halo circling his head and a monument erected in his honor. That’s how loved he was. Hell, who knows? I haven’t been back to Dowling High since I graduated, so maybe one sits outside on the grassy lawn right now.

So while all of this was undeniably attractive and I wanted to be friends, I didn’t think I could
just
be friends, so it was best to keep my distance.

Besides, we both had plans. Lives to live elsewhere. He had a basketball scholarship to UCLA and I was attending Dartmouth. But the biggest reason was I knew in my heart of hearts what I was feeling for Connelly was no high school crush. He was the type of man who would kiss your soul leaving behind an invisible imprint, forever marking you. A forever love you’d be helpless against. We would be a country apart and I didn’t want to fall in love with him just to have to leave him after graduation.

But what I had with Connelly was undeniable—inevitable, really—from the very moment he whispered his cocky, confident declaration in my ear at lunch that day. In our senior year, Connelly turned his pursuit of me into a full-time job. Our attraction grew and thickened until it couldn’t be contained anymore. I finally caved. Or he wore me down, more likely. We started out as friends. And a few months into our “friendship,” my resolve crumbled some more.

I let him kiss me.

That was the beginning of the end for me. Once his lips touched mine, I knew we could never go back to anything before that. I knew I never wanted to.

Then it happened. A mere two months after that life-changing first kiss, my brilliant father accepted an Endowed Chair position at Johns Hopkins University and we had to move. Again. So in a decision I would soon come to regret, I gave not only my virginity but my very spirit to Connelly in one night of passion that I’ve yet to match.

If only I knew then what I would find out just weeks later. That Connelly wasn’t the person I thought he was. That he was every bit the player everyone said he was. That he didn’t deserve my trust, my love, or my heart.

Or that his selfish actions would lead to my
own
moral demise.

As our gazes greedily drank each other in today, guilt and hurt ate me up from the inside. My stomach now feels like someone opened my throat and poured undiluted acid inside it. For the millionth time, I’m wondering if I haven’t made the biggest mistake of my life by shutting him out so long ago when maybe I should have talked to him instead.

That terrifies me more than anything, because after seeing that longing in his face, I fear the answer may be yes. I think I fucked up royally. I can’t go back and undo it and I can’t come clean now. It’s too late. Too much water is under our bridge. He made mistakes, yes, but so did I. I have betrayed him in the absolute worst possible way. With each passing year, it becomes more and more apparent.

I hate myself for it.

But I’m trapped. Chained to my lies with no hope of escape. Gasping for air that won’t come because it’s all been sucked out by my dishonesty and treachery. My carefully constructed world made up of noble intentions and reinforced with layers of evasion and excuses is rapidly crumbling around me, the structure sinking under the weight of my own selfish duplicity.

Lies.

Secrets.

Betrayals.

If you invite them in, they have a way of winding their poisonous tentacles through every word, every action, every part of your life until
you
start to mistake their deception for truth. It’s amazing, really, how much we can convince ourselves into believing the altruism of our own lies.

But lies are lies, secrets destroy, and betrayal can cost you everything. Connelly may have betrayed me, but anyone on the outside looking in would say my betrayal is far worse. They’d be right.

If Connelly finds out the secret I’m harboring, it will destroy him and in turn, he will destroy me. My entire life. And I wouldn’t blame him. What I’ve done is simply unforgivable. I can make every excuse under the sun for my actions, but deep down I know they have been self-serving and not at all altruistic, as I’ve pretended.

I rub my chest, trying to ease the pain and sorrow I feel sitting heavily there. I let sadness wash down my face, unchecked. And I allow myself a few more moments to enjoy the memories before I tuck them away again.

Then I strengthen myself for what needs to be done. As much as my entire being has missed Connelly, like an essential part of my body has been removed and I still feel that phantom pain, it’s too messy to have him in my life. Which is why I have to say no to this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Regardless of what Connelly thinks, I will not be accepting his offer. I can’t. As with so many years ago, I am once again steadfast in my decision to turn Connelly down.

But this time, I can’t waver. This time, I can’t let his subtle seduction tactics, sweet-talking promises, or arm-twisting dominance sway my resolve. Because if I do, I stand to lose the one thing I have left that really matters to me.

And I will never let that happen.