Free Resisting the Bad Boy by Violet Duke

ever heard shot out of her then—like an impeccably aimed torpedo. “Late breaking news, Connor: scientists have in fact discovered that the earth doesn’t revolve around you; women buy toys for themselves all the time.”
    He grit his teeth and did everything short of reciting tort law to avoid thinking about Abby having any sort of toy-based fun. It took a while, but when he was eventually able to find his voice again, he crossed his arms and declared sternly, “Foul.”
    “What? On what grounds?” Her obvious war between indignation and amusement wasn’t lost on him. Damn, he was having fun.
    “When I agreed to your little who-can-resist-who stint, you didn’t say anything about weaponizing our attacks.”
    She blinked innocently. “Weapons? You make them sound so sinister. I’d say they’re more like…private tools. Survival tools, if you will. For my time here. Naturally, you were never meant to see them.”
    “Bullshit. Next, you’ll tell me the snowflake masquerading as underwear in that bag is worn strictly for comfort. Hell, I’ve seen more fabric on the teeny doilies in Skylar’s toy tea sets—”
    “Ohhh,” she cut in softly with a smile. “I remember those. Whenever I’d babysit, she’d always go on and on about how her ‘bestest Uncle Connor’ hosted the fanciest dress-up tea parties.”
    “I wore suits,” he clarified gruffly, “and don’t change the subject. Why buy sexy lingerie if not to have them be seen?”
    By me. He didn’t have to say it out loud, they were both thinking it.
    And his ego was celebrating it.
    Abby’s chin lifted stubbornly. “What do you mean, why? Easy access, of course,” she answered, straight-faced. “You know what they say…better felt than seen.”
    His imagination went nuts.
    Picturing Abby wearing the microscopic scrap of lace he saw earlier for easy access in private unhinged him, propelled him to shackle her wrists above her head with one hand and begin tickling her ribs with the other. “Another foul.”
    “Stop!” she screeched, dissolving into a breathless puddle of mirth. “Okay, I admit it! These were all dirty, dirty fouls on my part; you should definitely take a free throw shot.”
    He paused, wondering where she was going with this.
    She pointed to the trash can. “There’s the basket. My new panties can be the ball…since yours are clearly in a twist.”
    Incredulous, he dialed up the tickle torture to merciless.
    Her squealing ‘I-take-it-backs’ hit an ultrasonic range as she wriggled and squirmed and bucked until soon, he was fairly certain his suffering was eclipsing hers.
    Letting go of her wrists, he rolled onto his back beside her, out of sorts and grumbling, “You’re planning to drive me completely crazy these next few weeks, aren’t you?”
    Limbs all akimbo, body dangling half off the bed, and clothing askew, she lifted her head weakly to heave between breaths, “Like you wouldn’t believe.”
    With a groaning chuckle, he dragged her up to steal a long, hard kiss while she was too tickle-drunk to object. And the smile he couldn’t seem to contain around her snuck up on him once again. Mostly because she’d sobered up enough to call out, “Foul…and a really mean one at that.”
    For the first time in his life, two weeks of imposed abstinence didn’t seem all that bad.

C HAPTER F IVE

    I T WAS WORSE THAN BAD . It was impossible. Six days of pure, unmitigated, using-up-all-the-cold-water agony. And there were still eight days ahead to face.
    Survival was looking highly unlikely.
    He had to admit though that the last six days had been pretty great in their own right. Fun. Given the constraints of her busy writing schedule, Connor made sure to limit himself to only one short, concentrated flirt session with Abby a day, either by phone or a flurry of text message bantering. And every night, she’d greet him at home with a smile…and depending on how steamy their flirting had been that day, a damn cute blush,