Never, never, never.
And she wanted more.
She let him take the weight of her as she concentrated less on remaining upright and more on the pleasant, heady sensations rushing through her.
His mouth tore from hers, his hands disappeared and she teetered a moment before he bent and lifted her in his arms. She made a noise, half of surprise, half from desire. Her arms curled around his neck, his mouth came back to hers and he kissed her while carrying her to her room.
And Abby liked that he carried her, the strength of him, his mouth on hers. It made her world tilt; she felt wonderfully dizzy and hoped the world would never come right again.
He set her at her feet beside the bed and, mouth still on hers, he shrugged off his suit jacket, dropping it to the floor. Then he leaned into her and she was falling back onto the bed, his heavy, solid weight on top of her.
She forgot how this felt, having a man cover you, and she realised she missed it. The warmth of it, the safety of it, how it could shut out everything else and make just the two of you be the whole world.
But even though this thought sifted through her brain, Ben didn’t enter her mind.
It was all Cash, his long, hard body, the smell of his woodsy, spicy cologne, his weight, his mouth, all of him, every single inch.
She found she craved him, all-of-a-sudden she couldn’t get enough, pulling his shirt from his trousers, her hands slid up the hot skin of his back as he kissed her and she kissed him back.
He rolled, taking her with him, yanking her skirt up around her hips as he did so. He sat up, forcing her to straddle him. His mouth broke from hers and he pulled at his tie, the knot coming free, he slid it from his collar and tossed it aside.
All the while Abby’s mouth was at Cash’s neck, tasting his skin (and liking it), gliding along his strong jaw and her hands were at the buttons of his shirt, shaking with desire as she undid them.
While she was at her task, he grasped her dress, pulling it up and forcing her up with it. She happily lifted her arms as he tugged it off and threw it aside.
Then their mouths collided, his hands roaming, skin-against-skin, and it felt as if every centimetre he touched was connected straight between her legs.
His mouth disengaged and he pressed into her, arms around her, torso twisted and she heard his shoes hit the floor. He pulled back and she finished with his buttons, tugged the shirt over his shoulders, down his arms, dislodging his hands from her skin. Quickly, because she wanted them back, she yanked the shirt free of his body and tossed it away.
His arms came around her, crushing her as he fell back, then rolled, mostly on top of her, his mouth gliding down her jaw, her neck, her chest, then it was closing on her nipple over her bra.
“Cash…” she breathed, her hands sliding slowly into his hair. Then she gasped as he pulled her nipple sharply into his mouth.
It had been so long since she had this, her body so deprived, Cash so warm and heavy, his hands causing shivers, his mouth talented, the heat shot from her nipple to between her legs and she felt herself quivering.
It was early but she was ready.
She was ready now.
Her hand travelled down his arm, fingers finding his wrist, she brought his hand to the heat of her and pressed it in right where she needed it.
“Jesus, Abby,” he growled against her nipple and even his voice, rougher than ever, made her wet.
His lips came to hers and needing no more coaxing, his fingers took over. As his tongue slid inside her mouth, his hand slid inside her panties and then he was touching her.
She gasped at the sweetness of it, arching her back, straining her hips against his hand as his finger found her and started move.
It was great.
No, it was awesome.
No, it was amazing.
So much so she had to tell him.
“Cash,” she breathed, “don’t stop. That’s amazing.”
She felt his smile against her mouth and luckily he didn’t stop. He kept going. He kept going until she was squirming against his hand and she felt it. It was coming and she knew by the feel of it that it was going to shatter her world.
But something wasn’t right. She couldn’t do it alone.
No, she could.
She just didn’t want to.
“You,” she said urgently, her breath coming in pants.
His mouth had gone away but he hadn’t. When her eyes partly opened she saw he was close and watching her.
“You,” she repeated, turning into him, losing control, coming close to letting go and letting it happen.
“Abby,” he murmured and her hand went to his stomach, sliding down, feeling his hardness, hearing his soft groan at her touch and she knew she wanted all of him.
If she had a choice between breathing and having Cash inside her at that moment she would have chosen the latter.
“Cash,” she breathed, tugging at his belt, “stop.”
He gave a short, harsh laugh at her words. “Darling, I can’t stop.”
“No, don’t stop. I mean,” she pressed her torso deeper into his and before sanity could invade or she lost herself in what his hand was doing, she whispered insistently, “I want it to happen with you. Please, I want you inside me.”
She no sooner got out the words then his hand went away and so did he. She blinked in the darkness at the sudden cold, opening her mouth to object but then her panties were pulled down her legs and he rolled over her.
She felt his hand between them working at his trousers right before his mouth crushed hers in a mind-boggling kiss.
Her legs opened in invitation, his hips slid between, his tongue touching hers and then he was inside her, buried to the hilt, filling her completely.
And that felt beyond amazing.
“Yes,” she whispered as he moved, not slowly but fast, hard, hot, her body jolting lusciously with his thrusts.
She wrapped her arms around him as he pulled one of her legs around his waist, her other thigh he pushed up against his side, giving him better access so he could go deeper, thrust harder and she liked it.
No, she loved it.
And she felt it; she knew it was back, ready to overwhelm her.
“Cash,” she gasped and his mouth moved from the skin below her ear as his head came up so he could look at her.
“I want it.” His words were a demand uttered in a husky rumble that so affected her, Abby slid over the edge.
“Cash,” she repeated on a soft cry as it started.
His fingers drove into her hair, tugging it gently, pulling her head back so her neck arched even further than it did naturally with her climax. His mouth went to her neck, she felt his lips there, his tongue touching her, his body moving inside hers but it was mostly the scrumptious, momentous, earth-shattering explosion of her body she was feeling.
And it was scrumptious, momentous and earth-shattering, pounding through her body as Cash pounded inside her.
After, when Abby was coming down, her body tight around his (both her limbs and other better places), was when she heard him pull in his breath. He drove into her one, last, succulent time and she knew she had him.
And that was earth-shattering too.
When they were done his weight relaxed into her. Her arms flexed, her thigh tightened at his side and her leg curled deeper around his waist and she found, stupidly and ridiculously, she wanted to hold onto him. She wanted to hold onto the man who lit welcoming lights, who worried about her when she was late, who showed patience with an old, lonely woman, who found his mother after she committed suicide and was brave enough to talk about it.
She wanted to hold onto Cash Fraser and the magic of this moment forever.
Then sanity, as it had a way of doing, invaded.
And she wondered what, in all holy hell, she was doing.
She’d just given herself to him.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
Then, heartbreakingly, she remembered Ben
.
There had been no one since him. When she was with him, she never even considered another man.
Now, she’d just let Cash fuck her.
In fact, she’d practically begged him to do it.
What was the matter with her?
Cash’s face came out of her neck as his hand released her hair.
“Abby.”
She tipped her chin down to look at him in the shadows, wondering how she was going to get out of her latest, stupid, stupid, stupid Abby behaviour.
She was thinking, hysterically, she’d blame it on the drink before he spoke.
“Don’t fucking shut down on me.” His voice was a warning, holding an edge of anger, making her scarily aware that, even in the dark, he could read her.
“I’m not shutting down,” she lied.
“You fucking well are,” he clipped and since he was using the word “fuck” a lot, she knew he wasn’t edging toward anger, he was there. Before she could process this (as in, let it freak her out), he went on. “What just happened was good.”
“Cash.”
“I don’t give a fuck about whatever fucking rules you have. That was you that you just gave me. I wanted it, you gave it, I took it and I’m not fucking giving it back.”
“Cash –” she started again.
“No, Abby, you’re mine,” he declared and genuine fear started edging out the beginnings of panic, the despair at her reckless behaviour and the full-tilt guilt.
“What does that mean?” she whispered and his hand came to rest against the side of her face.
“Five days ago, I paid for a part of you. Just now, you gave me all of you. And I’m not fucking giving it back.” She pulled in breath at what he said and what he might mean but he kept talking. “This is mine,” he said, moving his hips and she couldn’t help it, he was still inside her, it felt good and her own hips pressed into his in response. Then his mouth came to hers. “And this mine,” he murmured before he brushed his lips against hers then his hand left her face to trail down her side. “And this is mine,” he went on, his hand coming back to her face, his thumb gliding along her cheek. “And, darling, this is mine.”
“Cash, I think it’s safe to say you’re freaking me out,” she informed him softly and honestly, her voice proving her words true.
She saw in the dark his white teeth flash in a smile as his anger disappeared.
Then he whispered, “Get used to that feeling, Abby. Because when something’s mine, it’s mine and I never give it up without a fight. And even if someone’s fool enough to fight me, they never win.”
“Cash, you can’t have me, I’m not yours to have,” she told him, her voice now sounding a wee bit desperate.
His mouth came back to hers and she felt that he was still smiling.
“Oh yes, darling, you are,” he said there and he kissed her.
And right before his tongue touched hers and she lost herself again, Abigail Butler thought, Oh bloody hell. Now what have I done?
Chapter Ten
The Morning After
Cash woke to find Abby curled beside him on the bed in the curve of his outstretched arm. Her knees were touching his calf, one of her hands resting light on his stomach, her head was on her other hand on the mattress, forehead pressed into his side.
Though it was an odd position, it felt both intimate and poignant.
He felt something else and glanced down to see Abby’s cat was curled between their bodies, snug in the crook of her lap.
He rarely slept the night with a woman, preferring his own bed and the statement it made when he left them to theirs.
However every once in awhile, particularly if his partner had satisfied him, he’d break this rule.
But he’d never shared a bed with a cat.
He looked to his left and saw her clock announcing it was four thirty.
Staying at her house added an hour to his commute. He liked to be in the office by seven at the latest.
He needed to get up, get home, showered and to work.
He didn’t move.
He listened to the silence of Abby’s house and allowed himself a moment to process the conflicting emotions of triumph and disquiet that he felt.
Cash Fraser had had many women in his life.
Two of them were long-term relationships.
Neither of these ended well. They didn’t like his work schedule which left little time for them. They didn’t like his travel and he wouldn’t take them along as he didn’t like distractions. And they tried to impose restrictions on his life and activities which Cash would not abide.
Therefore, both times, he ended it.
The other women, often enjoyable, sometimes disappointing, were mostly acquired to satisfy him in bed.
None of them was even close to what he had from Abby, out of bed, and now in it.
Last night, with her abandoned response, Abby had taken him somewhere no woman had shown him. He’d never had a woman who let the barriers down so thoroughly, inviting him inside, not just to experience fucking great sex ending in a staggering orgasm, but something far deeper.
He didn’t know he wanted it. In fact, if he’d been asked before he had it, he would have said he didn’t.
But once it was his, he claimed it with a ferocity that surprised even Cash.
Since the day they met, Cash wondered which of her responses was genuine and which was an act for which she’d been paid.
Last night wasn’t an act.
The arrangement was, he could fuck her only after they’d gone to the castle.
She’d almost begged him to take her last night, giving him herself for free.
Now she was his, even more than when he’d paid for her.
The second time was nearly as good as the first. He’d taken off the rest of their clothes and he’d taken his time.
He searched for her sweet spots, found them and manipulated them ruthlessly until she was writhing underneath him and begging for release.
While he was doing this, she was doing much the same, her hands and mouth on him, her long limbs tangling with his, her touch bold. She was open and giving of herself and her responses while offering pleasure in return for what she took.
Like everything else about her, it was exquisite.
This was why he felt triumph.
The disquiet he felt was twofold.
Firstly, and less importantly, was his overwhelming desire to possess her. He wasn’t certain what he wanted from her and there was nothing in Cash’s life of which he wasn’t certain.
He knew it was cliché, his intent to conquer the professional escort, break through her façade, force her response, make her his.
He thought little of this. There were many things Cash Fraser had desired in life, things others would have thought unobtainable and with single-minded purpose, he got them.
Abby would be no different.
And the minute she told him she wanted him inside her, he decided he wanted all of her.
And that was what he would have.
Secondly, from the beginning something didn’t strike true about Abigail Butler, Paid Escort.
She’d hid it better at first but he felt, especially looking back, there were signs that what she wanted him to see and what was real were two different things.
She had the bearing, the coolness, the clothing, the car, all the trappings.
But her home, her cat, her friends, her nosy neighbour, her heartbreaking history and the way she behaved with him didn’t quite add together.
Not that anyone in her business wouldn’t have a life outside the job it was just that she let him in so quickly.
Cash felt something was not quite right.
And it disturbed him.
On that thought, deciding to concern himself with this later and start his day, he slid away from her carefully, not waking her but her cat gave a tired mew.
He strolled into the hall and saw what he didn’t see last night. There were boxes and tools e
verywhere which he found surprising. The rooms on the first floor were clean, tidy and uncluttered.
He dodged them as best he could in the dark and headed toward where he guessed (rightly, in a way) he’d find the bathroom.
He pulled on the light and stopped dead.
Except for the toilet, the room was gutted. Bare floorboards, no tile, no tub, no sink. The back wall looked like it had been set with new plasterboard, the floor underneath had new boards.
Clearly Abby was having some work done on her house.
Leaving those unappealing facilities, he turned out the light and walked up the stairs to the top floor. The house was huge, there had to be another bathroom.
He located it but discovered that the only thing that worked was the light.
He walked back down to her room, pulled on his boxers and headed down passed the ground floor, where he knew from his movements last night there was no bathroom, to the garden level.
He found another bathroom, as ancient as the one on the top floor.
It, too, was not functioning.
“What the fuck?” he muttered, annoyed. He retraced his steps, using the only facilities available to him and went back to her room.
He got fully dressed and sat on the edge of her bed. Her cat’s head came up and he gave an enquiring meow but kept his place.
Sometime after Cash’s departure from the bed, she’d moved up and curled into Cash’s pillow, her arms tight around it.
Cash shifted the hair off her neck and bent to her ear.
“Abby, I’m leaving.”
She stirred slightly and her head turned toward his voice but she stayed silent.
“Abby,” he called when she didn’t have a further response.
She sleepily got up on her elbow, her hand pulling her hair out of her face holding it there as her eyes moved to the clock.
Then her head turned to him.
“Do you always get up this early?” she murmured in her soft, sexy, very effective, early morning voice.
“Yes,” he replied, his mind doing a scan of his schedule and finding, to his disappointment, that he didn’t have time to do what he very much wanted to do to Abby before he needed to be at his first meeting.