Moment of Weakness: One Moment, Book 1 (12 page)

Abby’s fingers closed in a fist against his skin before she yanked her hand away. “You just want me to care about you,” she accused. “You want to be better than anyone else, to have what no one else has.” A short, bitter laugh followed her words. “That’s all part of your strategy, isn’t it? Win at all costs?”

“That’s not true.” Marcus reached for her, but she skittered out of his hold. He flexed his hands, his chest suddenly so tight he wondered that his heart could keep beating.

Abby shook her head. “Isn’t it?” Her steady gaze dared him to deny it. “Tell me you don’t need me to give in for you to win then?” She waited a moment. When he didn’t say anything, she stared at him a moment longer before turning away. But not before Marcus saw the light dim in her eyes. “How many times do you need to win to be satisfied?” she said. “How many times before you realize you’re good enough?” She grabbed at her clothes, pelting accusations at him so fast he could barely keep up.

Every time.
Marcus glared back, his frustration growing. “Who hurt you?” he asked. He moved to block the doorway, wanting to push at her control. He didn’t give a shit about the game right now—he just wanted her be honest with him.

Abby struggled into the last of her clothes, her movements awkward as the material stuck to her wet skin. Her face was flushed by the time she smoothed her shirt and was ready to face him again.

“Someone who didn’t care who they hurt to get what they wanted. Someone exactly like you.”

Shouldering him out of the way, Abby grabbed her shoes from the living area and was halfway out the door before Marcus realized what had happened. He cursed as the door slammed shut behind her, listening to the distant thud of her feet as she raced down the stairs. His heart thudded just as dully in his chest. He just didn’t understand what kept going wrong.

Marcus turned back to the destruction of the bathroom. The scene was reminiscent of a battlefield. There was no other way to describe it. A fitting tribute to his evening with Abby, where they’d parried and thrust pointed barbs, searching out the chinks in each other’s armor. Playing the game.

At least he was right about one thing. Abby had been hurt. Now he understood why there were times she held him so tight it was almost impossible to catch his breath, and other times she shoved him away. Someone had broken her heart. And tonight she’d admitted it.

He should have scented victory. Abby used games to hide and she’d just handed him the vital, winning strategy. It was what Marcus had been waiting for, the opportunity to go for the kill. Strike hard. Break her.

His gaze swept the sodden mess of the bathroom once more and he slumped against the basin, hit with the realization that he didn’t want to play anymore. This wasn’t what he wanted with Abby. To face each other as rivals and not as lovers. For everything to be a competition. His eyes widened as Marcus faced his reflection and saw for the first time that what he wanted was an actual relationship.

Something real. Something loving.

How was he supposed to make that happen? The more he pushed, the more Abby retreated and the more he hurt her. The knowledge settled like lead in Marcus’s chest and he pressed his hands against his eyes, weariness sinking into his bones.

What had he done?

When Marcus had started this stupid competition of one-up-man-ship, he hadn’t considered Abby as a person. He’d treated her like a conquest, an object to be won, only wanting her because he had to have what no one else could. To be better than everyone else. Abby had been close to the truth when she’d thrown out her damning accusations. She couldn’t know how hard Marcus had driven himself, the impossible measures he’d set to better his life. To be the best.

Now as everything between him and Abby unraveled, Marcus wondered if there were worse things than losing. To live your life so devoid of emotion. Maybe winning with Abby wasn’t about bending her to his will—maybe it was about gaining her trust.

Marcus straightened, raking his hand through his hair. He wanted to run after Abby. To shake her. To beg her forgiveness. But he knew if he pressed her now, she might break and shatter.

He should let her go.

Marcus shook his head even as the thought formed. He couldn’t do that either. His heart gave a hollow thump.

All he could do was ride this train wreck with Abby until it reached the end of the line. And all he could hope for was that he was strong enough to survive the crash. For the both of them.

Chapter Twelve

For once, six o’clock came far too quickly. Abby wanted to go to Marcus. She didn’t want to go. She wanted to see him,
needed
to see him, but she didn’t want to need to see him.

Something had happened last night after she’d left. She’d returned to her hotel to stand under the shower, shivering with an inner chill so fierce she imagined a solid block of ice laid just beneath her skin. No coldness, no heat. Nothing.

Marcus obviously felt it too. He’d been avoiding her all day. Now, it was after six and Abby was still in her office. Waiting. She gave up on working, wandered down the corridor to the kitchen to fill a glass from the faucet. As she pressed the chilled glass against her cheek, her eye caught on a rowboat out on the water, which skimmed the river toward the private beach at the back of the house.

It wasn’t hard to recognize Marcus. Abby’s breath caught at the striking image, fierce determination in every line of his body. The epitome of a champion. A winner. She could imagine his grin. He slowed to a stop, muscles straining as he back-paddled to turn the skiff around. The sight of him triggered a swell of desire that became a turbulent pull Abby couldn’t escape.

She couldn’t take her eyes off him.

It had to end. One way or another, this thing between her and Marcus had to end. She couldn’t keep pretending like it just didn’t matter. Last night in the shower, Abby had accepted she wasn’t playing against Marcus anymore. Hidden under the thrum of the water she’d acknowledged that somewhere in the last few days the game had changed. Or maybe it was only she that had. What started out as a light, lusty competition had turned into an all-out war—not against Marcus, but against herself and what she felt for him.

Marcus walked out of the boatshed and she met him on the path, taking advantage of his hesitation to move toward him. White stone crunched under her feet, the noise sounding loud in the still of the deepening dusk.

She couldn’t meet his eyes as she slipped open the top button of her shirt. Abby kept going, one step, one button, until she reached him. The world fell into silence as if waiting for her to speak. He stepped forward to meet her and strong fingers wrapped around hers.

“I want you.” Her heart was pounding. Abby faltered as Marcus drew back. Uncertainty flickered in his eyes and his grip tightened painfully. Abby swallowed the lump in her throat. “I want you…inside me.” Her words were a whisper.

Still, Marcus heard her. His breath caught, his head dipping to nuzzle her forehead. Abby waited for him to move lower, to claim her mouth and hold her within his heat, but he didn’t. Barely relaxing his hold, he drew her to sit on a patio lounger. Marcus pulled her onto his lap so she straddled his thighs, facing him. She’d never seen him look so serious.

He smiled tightly, a grin that came nowhere close to reaching his eyes. “As much as I want to rip every shred of clothing from you, I need to be sure of what you’re saying,” he prompted.

“Oh. R-right.” Of course. Marcus would want to hear her admit he’d won. She’d forgotten he was still in the game. Twisting the hem of his T-shirt, she had the sudden urge to hide her face and sob. Or run.

“Did you love him?”

“What?” Abby shook her head. Why was he so interested in her past love? Didn’t he want to crow a little more? And where was that shit-eating smile he wore like a trophy whenever he won?

“The guy who hurt you. Did you love him?” he asked again, gentler this time.

“Yes.” Abby’s reply came automatically. Yet…was that still true? She rubbed her arms against the chill of the night. Of course it was.

Marcus pressed his lips together tighter and she fought against the urge to smooth her hand along his jawline. “Do you still love him?” he asked, his voice dropping.

Abby blinked, thoughts of Nathan…Nicky…betrayal slipping from her grasp. “I-I don’t know,” she stammered. “Does it make a difference?” Her chest ached. She didn’t want to bring Nathan into this moment. Nathan, Nicky and her mother weren’t part of her life anymore. “Whether I love anyone or not, it doesn’t change a thing. It has nothing to do with us.”

Marcus cupped Abby’s face and refused to let her look away. “It has everything to do with us, Abby. He’s still in your thoughts, dictating how you live your life. Don’t you see that it wasn’t just love you lost, but your belief in love itself? You let him take that from you.”

The temptation to lean into his touch overwhelmed her. She wanted to be swept away and forget everything she’d ever known about love. But if she did, could she ever get back to this place in her life? She was already precariously balanced on the edge of falling. Squeezing her hands together, she drew on the bitterness that had been a constant companion since Nicky.

“Why? Is this ruining your pet project.” She forced a sneer into her voice. Anything to hold him at bay. “Am I souring your win?”

“No.” Marcus’s grip on her chin tightened. “I’m not playing games. Don’t you get it, Abby? Neither of us can win.”

Abby’s breath roughened at the sincerity in his voice and his unguarded stare.

“Can you honestly tell me you’ve been happy these last few days?” he asked. Her face must have shown her answer, because the grip at her waist tightened. “You deserve more than that and so do I.” He took a breath and it was as if he were trying to breathe her in too. Hold her to him. “I’m willing to walk away if that’s what you want,” he said, looking away. “I’d rather do that than to hurt you.”

Abby couldn’t absorb his words, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but stop him from speaking them. She didn’t want to hear him say anything more, to offer false promises or phony proclamations of love. Not from him. She sealed her lips against his mouth and took what Marcus offered. No apologies. She wanted this one perfect moment.

“I need you.” She pushed the words into his mouth. “Please Marcus. I need you. All of you.”

Marcus’s gaze searched hers before he swept her into his arms and carried her upstairs. He lowered her beside his bed and began what she had started. His touch was almost reverent as he unfastened the rest of her buttons, drew off her shirt and let it slide to the floor. His lips parted, a soundless sigh of pleasure as he took in the sight of her lace-covered breasts, her smooth, flat belly.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, lowering his mouth to her shoulder.

Hands slid around to unfasten her skirt. Abby barely felt it slither past her hips as he pressed kiss after kiss into her skin. Her panties were next, then cool air hitting her nipples as her breasts came free. Marcus pulled back to look at her and his eyes etched a path over her body, so hot she could follow the blazing trail.

“You now.” Abby’s trembling hands reached for his belt.

His T-shirt was lifted over his head. Her lips tasted the salty nectar of his skin as she traced each muscled ridge of his chest. When they were both naked, Marcus knelt on the bed and offered his hand. She slipped her fingers into his and was pulled down until they lay together face to face, only millimeters apart.

Lips fused together in a series of slow, intoxicating kisses. Their bodies aligned, legs tangling in an effort to press closer as Marcus started a sensuous exploration of her body. Abby moaned as his fingers trailed over first one nipple, then the other. She repaid him in kind, mirroring each of his caresses with one of her own, her fingers lingering on his chest, his hips, his thighs.

Pleasure built between them, fed from each other until every cell in Abby’s body was alive and aching. For Marcus. His fingers slid between her parted legs, and a low hiss seeped from his lips as he found her wet and ready. She ran her nails over his cock, feeling the silken hardness of him as she stroked him from tip to base. An all-consuming need rose, basic and primal, until all Abby could think of was Marcus inside her, filling her…completing her.

Her lips found his in a silent plea and he allowed her to pull him to her.

A shiver of icy finality slithered to the base of Abby’s spine when she read his look, both ecstasy and sorrow. It was fleeting. The heat he ignited chased away the coldness, the unease dissipating as he fitted a condom and slid between her thighs. His cock nudged against her pussy and he pushed forward to claim her.

“Ahh.” Nothing had ever felt so right. A guttural groan of acceptance escaped Abby as she closed her eyes and drank in the feeling of wholeness.

Marcus stilled, waiting until her eyes opened before starting to move in long, lush strokes.

“You are everything I want.” He kissed her, his mouth branding her lips with a crushing kiss. “I love you.”

Marcus.
His name became a whispered litany. She wrapped her legs around his thighs as his pace quickened. The delicious rasp of his cock so deep inside her built to a crescendo and his urgent cries mingled with her own. His breath came in stilted bursts, eyes glittering like burnished topaz as he stared down at her, his chest rumbling with deep-seated pleasure.

Abby dug her fingers into Marcus’s back, her hips rising to meet him stroke for stroke. Her skin was on fire, flushed with heat, the sensations almost too much to bear. Her mind shut down as she came hard, wrenched apart and put together again. She breathed his name against his lips with a cry and Marcus stiffened, his hips lurching forward, cock jerking as he came inside her.

The harsh sound of her breathing quieted and Marcus relaxed to lower himself like a blanket over her body. Abby blinked back the tears as she splayed her hands across his back and held tight. She didn’t want him to move. She didn’t want this moment of weakness to end.

He’d said he loved her.

Abby would give Marcus everything, if only she could let herself believe it was real.

Abby sat at the bottom of the shower, letting the water drum hot needles into her skin. As soon as she’d gotten back to her hotel room, she’d wrenched her clothes off and turned the water to scalding.

Droplets mingled with tears until Abby couldn’t tell if she was crying anymore. She hadn’t wanted Marcus to tell her he loved her. Those words, whether he meant them or not, set her heart beating faster, made Abby ache for something she simply couldn’t have. Those words ruined everything.

The end of their quasi-relationship was inevitable, and already Abby had fallen much deeper than expected. It hurt. Knowing nothing was guaranteed, not promises of love, not the unconditional love of her family…her own mother. Love, if there was such a thing, didn’t last. Abby knew all too well that this had been a game Marcus had set out to win at any cost.

His words tonight had been a seductive whisper, a call to let go and explore what was between them that’d shattered her rigid little world. But even if he had
accidentally
fallen in love, she’d always be holding her breath, waiting for Marcus’s betrayal.

At least he was right about one thing. Nicky and Nathan had stolen something from her…something integral…something that made her less than whole. They forced her to accept nothing less than the truth about life. About love. A fresh well of tears burnt a path down Abby’s cheeks and she clasped her hands around her knees, holding in the pain that threatened to break her apart.

It was the insistent buzz of her phone that finally pulled Abby out of the shower. She left it running, grabbing her cell from the pile of clothes by the door, half-expecting, wishing, it was Marcus’s name on the caller display. Her heart squeezed tight with disappointment when she found Stacy instead.

“Are you all right?”

Her friend’s anxious question prodded through the numbness. She didn’t even question how Stacy knew something was wrong. Calling her best friend to check on her was exactly the kind of thing Marcus would do. He cared. The thought brought fresh tears and a sob escaped from her too tight chest.

“Oh God, Abby. You’re crying?”

Abby kept trying to tell Stacy she was all right. Or, would be all right once she could shove all of this emotional shit into a place where it couldn’t touch her anymore. She’d done it before. But this…this was different. This time it felt like the hollow void inside her could never be filled. And the weight of it was crushing her.

“Stay right where you are.” Stacy was crying too, doing her best to comfort Abby from a million miles away. “I’m getting on the first flight I can. It’s okay. You can come home now.”

Numbly, Abby hung up and climbed back into the shower.

She left for Chicago at ten o’clock the next morning, while Stacy made her way to Marcus’s home to complete their contracted work. The handover had been simple enough. That part was easy, much easier than looking her friend in the eye and trying to put into words what had gone so wrong with Marcus.

“Someday, you’re going to have to stop letting what happened with Nathan control your life.” Stacy’s parting shot tumbled end over end in Abby’s mind as she drove, skirting Buffalo to follow the highway as it curved around the Southern reaches of Lake Erie.

“Marcus is playing a game, just like everyone else.” Abby had convinced herself of this in the hours she’d waited for Stacy to arrive last night.

He had to be playing. Neither of them had won, but from every loss, Abby could only grow stronger. She lifted her chin. Next time, next game, she’d get better. Next time. Abby blew out a breath, unable to imagine there ever being a next time. Not without Marcus.

But that would pass too, right?

“And if he’s not playing?” Stacy had asked, more than a hint of exasperation in her voice. “Why would he be chasing you so hard, setting up this consultancy deal when he probably didn’t need it, calling me about you when he’s worried? God, he even shut down his offices with fake repairs just to get you into his home.”

“What?” Abby’s mouth had dropped open and a welcome swirl of anger had tightened its grip in her belly. “That just proves I’m right.” She’d tried to get Stacy to see what she knew in her heart. “Nobody pulls shit like that unless they’re playing. He was always determined to win.” She’d poked her finger in her friend’s face. “It’s all been one giant set-up right from the start.”

The specialized cab had arrived a moment later and Stacy had frowned, staring hard at Abby. “You’re my best friend, you know that right?” She’d tugged Abby downward until their eyes had met. Stacy’s gaze was filled with pity.