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Fifty-one
Henley
I understand now. Why he told me no when we were kids. Why he refused to take it when I offered him my virginity. It wasn’t because he didn’t want me. Didn’t love me. It was because he did.
Too much.
He needed me too much to take the risk of things changing between us. Loved me too much to take the chance. He knew I’d never let him in. That I’d always hold him at arms’ length and that loving me would eventually ruin him.
I can see that now.
He thinks I’m lying to him. I can see it on his face, and I open my mouth to tell him the truth. That I wish things were different. That I’d had the guts to stand up to my mother, all those years ago. To let him in. Let him love me.
But then his arms are around me. His hands in my hair. His mouth on mine, and I’m lost.
We both are.
I feel his hands fall to the hem of my sweater and I lift my arms, our mouths parting only long enough for him to pull it up, over my head, before they find each other again, our tongues tangling together, hot and frantic.
He turns me, the back of my knees hitting the edge of the bed. Tearing his mouth away from mine, Conner lowers me, sitting me down so he can kneel in front of me. I watch him, my gaze centered on his dark head, bent over as he lifts one foot and the other, to unlace my boots.
“This isn’t why I’m here,” I say to the top of his head and his shoulders stiffen under my hands. “I mean, I don’t want you to think…” Think what? That I’m using him for sex? That it’s all he’s good for. The only reason I’m here. All I want from him. “Conner, we don’t have to do this.”
He doesn’t say anything at first, just pulls off my boots and sets them aside before raising his head.
Lifting himself onto his knees, he brings us face-to-face again. “Did you mean it?” His gaze holds mine, so close and so impossible tender I can barely breathe. “Do you love me?”
I nod my head. “Yes,” I whisper, ignoring the way my heart flutters in my chest when he smiles at my answer. The impossible things it makes me want to do.
“Then the rest of it doesn’t matter.” He leans into me, softly brushing his mouth against mine. “Not right now.” His fingers skim up the length of my spine. “Right now, I just want to be with you.” Finding the clasp to my bra, he unhooks it, drawing its straps down my arms before dropping it at my feet.
It’s not a question but I nod again anyway. “Yes.” It’s what I want too. No matter what it means. What it looks like. How long it lasts.
Laying me back on the bed, he leans over me to run his tongue along the swell of my breast. Grazes my nipple with his teeth. “My parents room is right down the hall.” He circled my nipple with the tip of his tongue. “And you didn’t lock the door,” he says before drawing it into his mouth, sucking and nipping while his hands work the front of my jeans open. Lifting his head, he gives me the same crooked grin he used to give me when we were kids. “Do you think you can be quiet this time?”
It makes me think about the library. The way he fingers fucked me between the stacks. The way he had to cover my mouth with his hand to keep me from screaming while he made me come. “Probably not,” I say, lifting my hips off the bed so he can jerk my pants down my legs. “But I’m willing to give it another shot if you are.”
He laughs as he touches me between my legs, skimming his fingertips up the center of me, soft, feathery strokes over my panties, designed to test my resolve. “Know what I think?” he says, pushing against me through lace and silk, his gaze darkening when he feels how ready I am. How wet he makes me. “I think this might be why my mom never allowed me to have girls in my room.”
I swallow a gasp as his fingers push past the edge of my panties, their tips brushing against the slick, swollen folds of my pussy. “Conner…” I lift my hips again, moving against the pressure of his fingers teasing my entrance.
“Say it again.”
I open my eyes to find his face inches from mine, his gaze searching my face.
I lift my hand to cup his jaw, my fingers tracing the line of this brow. “I love you.” I whisper it, my eyes wide open so I can see his face when I say it. “I’ve always loved you.”
He lowers his lips to mine, his tongue sweeping into my mouth. His fingers slide into me, slow and deep, his thumb circling and pressing against my clit, his tongue and fingers stroking me in tandem until the moan trembling in my throat breaks free, getting lost in his mouth.
My hand falls to his shoulder, fingers gripping his shirt, trying to pull him closer. Deeper. The other one pushes between us to wrap around the hard length of his cock, stroking him through his jeans.
Breaking his mouth away from mine with a low groan, he levers himself up and away from me.
He stands, snagging the back of his shirt to pull it up and over his head. Watching him work his belt loose, my mouth goes dry at the sight of him. How beautiful he is. Smooth, flawless skin stretched over hard muscle. The tattoos only I know the meaning of because they’re mine.
Conner is mine.
Sitting up, I move his hands away to push the button of his jeans from its loop before tugging the zipper down to make room for my hands. Slipping them past the waistband of his pants and boxers, I push them down, so he can step out of them completely.