IRL: In Real Life (After Oscar, #1)(85)

His words set me on fire from the inside out. I was having a hard time remembering what I was supposed to say. “Yes, it’s yours,” I told him through gasping breaths.

He pulled back slightly, putting a sliver of space between us, and the absence of his heat and weight against me seemed almost cruel. I wanted to reach for him, to pull him back against me again, but he kept my hands pinned over my head. He cocked an expectant eyebrow, waiting.

Oh, right. “Yes, sir,” I amended with a grin.

But he didn’t allow himself to fall back against me. Instead he held himself like that, hovering just above me. He released my wrists, bringing his fingers to brush against my temple, whisper down my cheek. “I demand that you let me love you, Conor Newell. Forever.”

My heart swelled so large I wasn’t sure I would ever be able to breathe around it, much less speak. “On one condition,” I told him.

He quirked an eyebrow at the unexpected response.

Smiling, I reached up, tangling my fingers through his hair and pulling him toward me so that his lips were little more than a breath away. “You let me love you forever as well.”





Epilogue





Wells - the following summer





“Babe, it’s fine. Crystal doesn’t need you hovering. She can handle the shop while we’re gone. Plus, your mom and Bill are waiting for us at the festival.”

I walked up behind Conor and slid my arms around his waist, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. He tilted his head to the side to give me better access when I noticed Crystal mouth the words thank you to me from where she was cleaning up stock in one of the board game aisles.

“That’s not it. I’m finishing up a few notes for Roya about the foundation. One of Bill’s old law partners knows a woman who needs help paying for her treatment. I just want to make a note of her contact information so Roya can get in touch.”

I waved goodbye to Crystal with a wink and steered Conor out the shop entrance to the storefront right beside it. The crisp, clean sign above the door still caught my eye every time I saw it. Conor himself had designed the logo and branding for the Newell Foundation, and on the redbrick building next to it was the familiar logo of Grange BioMed. We now owned half the block between Broad River Board Games, Hold Your Piece, the foundation, and Grange. Liz teased Conor all the time by saying she had a “real estate baron” for a son.

Conor continued scribbling furiously on his notepad.

“Con, she’ll be at Downtown After 5—you’re going to see her in like five minutes.”

He waved a hand. “I know, but I didn’t want her to have to worry about keeping track of it. Just give me a sec.”

I opened the door and nudged him into the cool, quiet office. Everyone had already left for the day, most of them heading to the music festival Asheville held downtown every third Friday of the month. It was where we were supposed to be as well if Conor would tear himself away from work for the weekend.

But as I watched him rest his notepad on the high counter of the reception desk and continue scribbling, I couldn’t get that mad. After all, the Newell Foundation was a passion of his, and he loved it dearly. Eventually it would be able to run itself without too much direct involvement from him or his mother, but while it was getting started Conor sunk as much of his extra time into it as possible.

Well, except for the time he spent with me. Which was a considerable amount seeing as how we lived together and worked next door to each other.

I glanced out the glass doors at the crowds making their way toward the festival. “What are the odds James and his man leave the hotel long enough to join us?”

Conor snorted but didn’t say anything more.

“Think they’d be down for a foursome? Ever since we invited them hiking I’ve been imagining—”

Conor dropped his pen and slapped his hand over my mouth. I grinned and pressed a kiss against his palm. “I guess you were paying attention after all.”

“I was,” he said, grabbing his pen again. “Just give me one more second.”

I glanced at the notepad, assured myself that all the relevant information was there, and then took it out of his hands and chucked it in front of Roya’s monitor. Then I grabbed my man and slung him over my shoulders.

“You are so getting your ass reddened this weekend. And if we pick the right campsite tomorrow, no one will be able to hear you screaming for more,” I warned, smacking his tight butt over his shorts.

I felt his dick jerk against my shoulder and laughed. He was so predictable, and it never got old.

“Don’t make promises your hand can’t keep,” Conor grumbled from the area of my ass. His arms had gone around my waist to help keep him from falling, and I noticed one sneak its way under the waistband of my own shorts.

“Oh, I can keep my promises,” I told him. “You know that better than anyone.”

He found his way into my boxers and groaned appreciatively when he realized how hard I already was for him.

“Let’s have a quickie in your office like last time,” he suggested, his voice filled with mischief.

As tempted as I was to turn and take us deeper into the building, I forced myself to continue toward the door, pushing out into the warm summer evening. “Nope. Your mom’s waiting for us, and after we were late to your birthday dinner because somebody lost the key to the handcuffs, I’m not inclined for a repeat.”