Suzanne Wright - From Rags

If Connor hadn’t been so livid he might have argued her point or insisted on staying, but he knew that if he didn’t leave now he would end up pressing her over these memories that she obviously didn’t want to dreg up. His voice was barely controlled. “I’ll be in touch.” As he reached the door he yelled over his shoulder, “Oh and get rid of that ponce. If you want him to live, that is.” The slamming of the door gave extra emphasis to his threat.

For a long moment she just stood there trying to regain her sense of equilibrium and wondering how the hell things had gone from her finally being the dictator of the direction of her life to having that control snatched from under her. The man was like a force of nature, storming in and robbing her of her center with his kisses and his insistence on having her, even arrogantly expecting her to ditch her boyfriend – however non-existent he was – just to placate him! And for what, one shag? Maybe two? This was irrevocable evidence that blokes really were led around by their dicks.

What was she supposed to do now? She knew he wouldn’t let her rejection faze him. No. And he wouldn’t proceed cautiously and gently. He would swoop in and demand and browbeat and then ravish her with those kisses until he had totally worn her down. The frightening thing was that it would be so easy for her to melt into him like that, this bloke she cared for in spite of herself. Especially when she had the young teenager in her reveling at how she’d just been thoroughly kissed by Connor McKenzie. That freaked her out like nothing else could. So, basically, she would be fighting herself just as much as she would be fighting him. Yet, giving in to him wasn’t an option. She couldn’t let herself get involved with someone, no matter how brief, who had so much power over her. It would be so easy for him to hurt her.

Was there a book on how to get rid of someone who didn’t accept the word ‘no’, didn’t care for other people’s wishes unless they matched his own, and would laugh at a restraining order?

The ringing of her mobile phone pulled her from her thoughts. It was a ‘Withheld Number’. If it was Connor he could bet his arse she’d be hanging up. “Hello.” She was surprised at how fatigued she sounded. No answer. “Hello.” Just like the other day, there wasn’t a single sound coming from the other end. Not even the sound of breathing. She growled and ended the call. Bronty gave her a curious look. She was still disappointed in her traitor of a pet who apparently welcomed that selfish, arrogant caveman with open paws. “Some thanks that is for saving your arse from death’s door, Scooby bloody Doo,” she grumbled.

Sleep didn’t come easy, but she was thankful that she at least had two hours of it. Although things had always tended to feel better after a snooze, that hadn’t worked so well this time. But with the aid of coffee, chocolate, T.V. and Bronty’s inexcusable egg-smelling farts, her mind eventually became occupied by other things. Until Anna turned up at her door, her face painted with sympathy.

Jaxxon was instantly uneasy. “What?”

Anna chewed her bottom lip as she entered the apartment. “You seen today’s paper?”

It was only then that Jaxxon noticed that Anna had one rolled up in her hand. “Give me the brief version.”

“Okay. Well. There’s a big photo of you and Connor McKenzie glaring at each other all lustfully last night. The tabloids are loving this because Connor’s not one for being forward, the girls usually do the chasing. They’ve made it seem all romantic, saying he’s been ‘Allure-d in’. How cheesy’s that? Another reporter dubbed it ‘Lust at First Sight’.”

“That doesn’t sound that bad. It’s just general crap.”

Anna’s smile was comforting. “Apparently ‘sources’ say that even though you and Connor left separately, he was seen coming out of your apartment this morning. The tabloids have made a big thing of it. I’d say you’re going to be followed round a hell of a lot for a while.”

“I’m going to kill the cocky sod.” She should have considered he might be seen.

“I doubt it was him who made that up.” She settled on the sofa next to Bronty. “If I was you, I’d be expecting a call from him soon though because -” Noticing Jaxxon’s odd expression, she frowned. “What is it?”

“He was here. When I got back this morning. Sitting where you are now.”

Anna gasped. “Noooooo.”

“Yes.”

“What happened?”

Jaxxon sighed and began pacing. “I don’t know what to do, Anna.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I don’t know how to get him to understand the meaning of the word ‘no’. It didn’t matter what I said to him, nothing made a blind bit of difference. He still stayed, he still argued the toss about whether I wanted him, he still kissed me -”

“Kissed you? What was it like?”

Jaxxon threw her a look full of exasperation. “Focus, Anna. How do I get shot of him?”

“Are you sure you want shot of him?”

“Positive. Anna, he’s like a bloody tornado; he whirls in your life, makes a mess, and whirls back out just as fast. I won’t be used like that.” It would hurt too much.

“But you kissed him back, I’ll bet.”

“It’s a little hard to resist someone you’ve lusted after for ten years,” said Jaxxon defensively which made Anna smile.

“I can imagine. How long’s it been since you last had a shag?”

“Too bloody long.”

“Well…” Anna crossed her legs and started drumming her acrylic nails on the arm of the sofa. “I’d say go have a one-night stand to burn off some of that sexual frustration, but I know you don’t do those. If Connor was anyone else, I’d suggest acting like you’re in a relationship but he already thinks you’re with Bruno and he doesn’t seem fazed by it.”

“That reminds me, I’m going to have to tell Connor I’ve ‘dumped’ Bruno. The thought of doing what he wants cheeses me off but Bruno seems alright and he deserves to live.”

“Let me ask you a question. All the issues aside, do you want to shag Connor? It’s just…last night I thought you were going to jump each other’s bones right there in front of everyone. Maybe one shag to burn him out of your system wouldn’t be such a bad thing.”

“Anna,” groaned Jaxxon. “I want to get rid of him, not encourage him.”

“I know, I know. What I’m trying to say is you looked like you were up for it just as much as he did, and if that’s true and he’s not going to let this go you might end up having a moment of weakness and then you’d hate yourself for it afterwards. Why not, instead, turn the tables? Become the aggressor?”

“The aggressor?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t play games.”

“It’s not a game,” insisted Anna. “I mean you instigate the sex. That way, it will be on your terms and you’ll be using him as much as he’s using you. You’ll get him out of your system and then you’ll be the one walking away afterwards.”

Jaxxon could actually see the logic in that. She wouldn’t have to worry about how her will seemed to crumble when he touched her because the whole thing would have been her doing. She would have back the control that she lost over her life when he unsettled it. He hadn’t just walked back into her life, no, he had barged into it. And his kisses weren’t coaxing. Oh no. He had kissed and touched like he had every right to. That’s what had got to her the most; he was taking the choice and the control from her.

By later that night, Jaxxon had decided that if Plan A – getting him to go on his way without any more crap – failed to come to fruition, she would turn to Plan B: become the aggressor.

There would always be times when Connor questioned what exactly had inspired his mate to make him god-father of his son. He’d never thought of himself as role-model material, despite that he was admired and respected for coming from nothing and achieving what he had. Even though Jaxx had always insisted there was good in him, all he’d been able to see was a volatile temper and an overbearing nature. Then there was the fact that nowadays he had a reputation as a womaniser.

Yet, here was Dane’s two and a half year old son, Little Dane, hanging off Connor’s neck talking about Thomas the Tank Engine and calling him Uncle Connor. He had met Dane when he was sixteen when they were both in the Young Driver’s Support Programme. Dane hadn’t had a similar upbringing to Connor but seemed to understand him and never looked down on Connor for not coming from wealth as he had. When Dane got married Connor had expected to see much less of him but Dane and Niki always invited him round. It hadn’t escaped his notice that his god-father duties were pretty damn heavy. Sometimes he wondered if Dane was trying to domesticate him.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, mate, but you look knackered,” said Dane as he settled down on his sofa to watch the football match, crossing his long legs.

Connor, who was slouched in one of the armchairs with Little Dane on his lap, shrugged. “Not sleeping much lately.”

“You never sleep much. But today you look like shite.”

He shrugged again. “Training hard in the day and then not getting much kip in the night will do that to you.”

“You’re not losing sleep over Anita, are you?”

Connor snorted; that question wasn’t even worth an answer.

Dane nodded approvingly, making his tousled dark hair fall over his forehead. “I never could stomach her. I wasn’t really all that surprised when Niki said Anita was planning to get pregnant thinking it would trap you. Why she thought Niki wouldn’t tell me something like that and I wouldn’t then tell you is beyond me.”