Taking Connor(55)

It takes me a moment to figure out what he means. Sex. He’s asking if Vick and I have had sex. “Yes,” I answer, my voice hoarse. “We haven’t done more than kiss.”

“But you were going to . . . tonight?”

Shame floods me. I was. I was going to sleep with Vick tonight. That was the plan until blondie showed up and derailed everything. But what makes it worse, is I pretty much told Connor I wanted him tonight. What in the hell is wrong with me? How could I go from planning to sleep with Vick to fantasizing about Connor? What kind of harlot am I? “Yes,” I reply honestly. “Guess it’s good his ex showed up and saved me from a huge mistake.” I’m crying again, holding my face in my hands. Connor pulls me from my chair and seats me on his lap, holding me.

“I’m sorry he hurt you, Demi.”

I meet his gaze and shake my head. “That’s just it,” I weep. “I’m not crying because he hurt me or broke my heart, I’m crying because I almost slept with a man that I didn’t love. I was just going to do it to . . . feel something,” I sob. “I just wanted to feel . . . good.”

Connor doesn’t respond, and I wonder if he’s trying to think of the best thing to say.

Now that the floodgates of my emotions are open, there’s no stopping it. “I’m so tired of feeling so . . . alone. I want to be touched, I want to be loved, I want to ache for someone so I can feel that moment when they ease it from me.”

I don’t care how wrong or slutty it is. I know I will tomorrow. I know I’ll regret it tomorrow. But right now, I want to feel. Right now, I want to feel Connor. I stand and face him, shimmying my dress up a bit, before seating myself in his lap again, straddling him. His breath hitches, his hands timidly resting on my hips.

“Demi,” he growls my name.

I press my forehead to his as both of us breathe heavily. The moment is . . . intense. I’m straddling him. He’s just as shocked as I am.

“I don’t know what’s happening here,” I admit. “Between us, but . . . I lied to you.”

“I know,” he says, simply.

“I was there that night. I remember everything.”

“I know you do.”

“How?”

“You asked why Roxy didn’t join us for breakfast the next day. You remembered someone showed up, so I knew you were lying. She never showed up.”

The thought of Roxy reminds me that Connor isn’t a single man. He’s taken. I move to stand, but his hands pull my hips back down. “What’s wrong?”

“We can’t . . . I mean, you’re involved with Roxy.”

“No, I’m not.”

“But she . . .” I pause. Am I really about to admit that I know Roxy stays over at his apartment often.

“She?” he questions.

“She spends the night with you. You’re sleeping with her, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m not. We’re friends.”

“With benefits?”

“Just friends, Demi,” he states, adamantly. “I haven’t slept with anyone since the day I got out and the only reason I did that . . .” he pauses and shakes his head. “Never mind.”

“Tell me,” I demand. I know he’s talking about the red head that served us at the restaurant we ate at the night I picked him up.

Meeting my eyes, he says, “There was no f*cking way I could ride all the way back to Colorado next to you without . . . f*ck,” he groans. “This sounds so shitty.”

“Say it.”

He swallows hard. “I don’t know how to explain what it was like to walk out of that f*cking prison and see you standing there. It almost felt like a cruel joke, ya know? I go from being surrounded by stinky-ass men, to find this goddamn bombshell waiting for me to take me home. And no matter what I thought of you or how I wanted you, it wasn’t an option. You were Blake’s wife. And even telling myself all these things, I wanted you. I’d just met you, but I wanted you so f*cking bad. And it wasn’t because I’ve been locked up for eight years, and you were the first woman I’d been close to in a long ass time. It was you Demi. You . . . feel like home. I knew it the moment I saw you. You’re a pillar, a rock. And it’s all I’ve ever wanted. So I hooked up with the waitress because I needed to take the edge off, try to clear those thoughts from my mind.” He lets out something between a snort and a laugh. “But it didn’t work.”

I cup his face with my hands and press my mouth to his. What starts off soft erupts into a hard, passionate kiss, with both of us clawing at one another. I rock my hips, rubbing against his erection. His hands move up, lifting my dress, before finding my ass cheeks and squeezing. I reach down and pull at the hem of my dress, intending to pull it off, but he stops me.

“What’s wrong?” I ask breathlessly.

“I need . . . this to happen when we’re both sober. I need to know this is really what you want.”

I stare down at him, still rocking against him, unable to stop myself. “I want you. I’m not drunk . . . well not that drunk. I swear.”

Taking my hand, he kisses it softly. “Then let’s take our time with this. Eight years in prison taught me a thing or two about patience. Sometimes when you wait for something, it only makes it that much sweeter when you get it. Something tells me I’m going to want to see and feel every single minute of you, Demi. And it’s going to be so f*cking sweet.”