IRL: In Real Life (After Oscar, #1)(62)

How desperately I didn’t want the night to end. Didn’t want the moment to come when he’d slip out of my grasp and out of my reach.

I closed my eyes, pressing my forehead against the back of his neck, breathing in deep the scent of him. I should have laughed at myself and all of the shitty promises I’d made about this being only one night and there being no future between us.

That wasn’t what I wanted.

I imagined following Conor Newell home to North Carolina and beg at his feet for a chance at more. For once in my fucking life, I even considered walking away from my company if that’s what it would take to make him consider a future with me.

But every time I tried to picture what a future with him would look like, I was slammed with the memory of our texts. I imagined confessing to him that I was Trace. That I’d known Conor was NotSam since the morning of our first meeting. The betrayal I’d see in his face was too devastating to contemplate. No relationship could start off with such deception—I knew that. But it was especially disastrous considering I was a terrible relationship bet to begin with, without even adding the subterfuge bit to it.

Still asleep, Conor twisted in my arms to face me, throwing an arm across my ribs and wrapping a leg around one of mine. A soft, muffled sigh escaped him and blew warm breath across my bare chest.

I pulled him closer, pressing a kiss to his head and holding him tight just to enjoy what I had for a little bit longer.

He’d said it was only for tonight.

We’d both said it.

But how could I let him go when he was the only person besides my sister who seemed to see through my bullshit? And he was the first person in a decade who’d stood up to me, challenged me, chastised me, made me laugh. He caused me to reassess how I ran my business and what I wanted in life, and he was the epitome of kind and sweet and genuine.

Conor was an entrepreneur like I was, but he didn’t let it rule his life. He still had time for family and friends, hiking and adventure.

I let out a heavy sigh, wishing things were different. Wishing I were different.

“S’okay,” he murmured. I wasn’t sure what he meant, but it felt like he was trying to comfort me. Maybe he subconsciously sensed my inner turmoil and knew I needed reassurance. Or maybe his body felt the hammering of my heart against his and worried I was about to stroke out.

I traced a fingertip under his chin, tilting his face toward mine. “I need to tell you something,” I whispered, unable to hold it in any longer. No matter what happened between us, I needed this out in the open. He needed to know I was Trace. He needed to hear it from me.

“S’okay,” he repeated in a sleepy voice. “’Morrow.”

My throat felt thick with unsaid words. “Conor…”

“Mmm.” He stretched and yawned, turning again so his back was to me. I shifted into place behind him.

“Conor—”

He grabbed my arm, like he’d done earlier, pulling me closer so that my front pressed against the length of his back. His ass lined up perfectly with my cock, which was still hard and desperate from being so near him. I instinctively thrust against him and groaned.

“Mm-hmm,” he hummed.

I kissed the side of his face, his ear, his neck. The kisses were soft and light, allowing him to still choose sleep if that’s what he wanted.

He hummed again and arched back into me. He was so warm and soft, pliant and willing. I couldn’t resist him.

“Want you,” I breathed into his ear. “Want you so much.”

“Yours,” he murmured sleepily. “Always.”

I froze for a beat, unsure of what he meant. Did he think he was with someone else? Someone he truly cared about?

“Conor?” I whispered.

“Wells,” he groaned. “So hard for you. Want to please you.”

Oh god.

My cock jumped hard against his naked ass. “You do please me, baby. You please me so much.”

“Want you inside. Am ready. Please, Wells.”

I brought my hand up to cup his face, turning it toward me to take his lips with mine. The kiss was sloppy but real, and I lingered in it until my cock began dragging a wet trail across Conor’s lower back. I reached for the supplies on the bedside table and suited up. When I pressed a lubed finger inside of him, I realized he was still plenty prepped from earlier.

I clasped him behind one knee and bent it up in front of him on the bed, staying pressed along his back. When I slipped inside of him, I wrapped my arms around his waist and chest and tucked my face into his neck.

My thrusts began slowly. I wanted to savor the feeling of dragging my cock in and out of him. The sounds of his whimpers turned to a kind of keening with each pass across his gland. He breathed my name into the pillow over and over again and held my hand against his heart so tightly, I thought the shape of it might imprint onto his very soul.

It was the closest I’d ever been to anyone in my life. I felt him everywhere and wanted him there forever.

“Conor,” I rasped. “I… I… Conor.”

Suddenly he pulled out of my grasp, away from my body and turned to face me, reaching to pull me on top of him so we were face-to-face.

“Like this,” he said softly. “Please.”

The dim light from an uncovered window illuminated shiny spots on his cheeks. His eyes were suspiciously damp, and I ached to wipe the tears away. But I couldn’t bring myself to acknowledge them.