Make Me - Tessa Bailey Page 0,31

door, having to bypass Russell to get there. His tense energy warned her to give him space, but she didn’t want to get used to avoiding him, so she stopped and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Bye, Russell.”

He didn’t say a word or move a muscle as she left the room.

Chapter 9

RUSSELL MADE SURE no one was watching as he cracked open the beat-up paperback book and continued reading. If Alec caught him reading a romance novel on his lunch break, the ball-breaking he’d receive would be the stuff of nightmares. Honestly, he would deserve every painful second of it, but nothing could force him to put the goddamn thing down. It had started as a guilty exploration, or possibly his newly revealed masochistic streak, but when he’d noticed Darcy reading The Dark Duke’s Virgin Bride over breakfast, he’d pocketed it without a second thought. Unfortunately, the more Russell read, the certainty that he was screwed with Abby only amplified.

With another furtive glance over his shoulder, he read on.

Dreading the inevitable pain he would cause Violet, Sebastian paused at the barrier of her virginity, sucking in a breath at the loveliness of her naked body. The way her breasts shook with excited breaths, even though her eyes held a touch of nerves.

Right. Okay. Russell was with the Duke so far. Hot virgin. Check. Shaking breasts. Double check.

Violet’s bit her lip as Sebastian pushed forward, speaking of discomfort that couldn’t be avoided. He tried to console himself with the knowledge her pain would only be temporary. That she would finally be his.

This is where the head shaking started. The duke was one selfish motherfucker, wasn’t he? As far as Russell could tell, Violet hadn’t wanted any part of the marriage to some weird-ass recluse in the first place. She’d only agreed to wed the dude to save her disgraced family from bankruptcy. Didn’t the duke give a shit that he was taking away her freedom? She’d be stuck with him for life.

Sebastian braced his hands on either side of Violet’s hips and whispered a heartfelt apology beside her temple. With a single, measured drive, he claimed his bride as his wife in every sense of the word. Her body tensed beneath his much larger one, a cry of surprise passing her lips. “I’m sorry,” Sebastian rasped, sweat beginning to dot his brow. “The pain will pass in but a moment. I won’t move until then, but . . . ah, you feel so perfect, Violet.”

Russell shoved the book into his glove compartment, wondering why the hell he’d waited to read the sex scene while at work. Operating a buzz saw with a hard-on probably wasn’t the wisest move.

“Damn books should come with a warning,” he muttered, adjusting his cock through his work pants. Nothing could stop him from replacing himself with the duke and the lip-biting Violet with Abby, however. Which was completely out of bounds. Before yesterday, he’d only dreamed of going all the way with Abby in moments of total weakness. Since she’d shown up with cupcakes and offered to get on her knees for him? He’d mentally fucked sweet, little Abby up one side and down the other, in several positions, in every room in his house. Immediately after he came—every single time—he would renew his vow never to sleep with her in real life. Never. He could not let it happen. But nothing short of a lobotomy could stop him from picturing it. Over and over and fuuuuuck.

Would Abby cry out in pain like that when he got inside her? The duke was a class-A prick in Russell’s estimation, but man, the way he’d just stayed still while Violet got used to him? Admirable. Russell was pretty sure he’d fail then and there. When he got physical with Abby, something inside him took over. He’d never been gentle in bed, but he’d never spanked a girl. He’d never wanted to pin a girl down and never let her up, the impulse so intense it choked him. Scared him. If he hurt Abby, going on with his life would be torture. Every waking minute would hurt.

But that’s exactly what he was considering, wasn’t it? I don’t need a boyfriend, but I need this. Need. Abby needed something from him, and his every instinct, at all times, demanded he give her anything and everything she needed. It was a compulsion. An honor. His intention yesterday had been to drive her away, show her how unworthy he was, what