Page 26 of Connor (Total Sinners #2)

Summer

I woke to warmth.

It was slow at first, creeping in from the edges of sleep. The weight of something solid and steady wrapped around me. The scent of him— smoke and whiskey, something deep and familiar —filled the space between dreams and reality. And for one blissful second, I let myself sink into it.

Connor.

His arm was draped over my waist, his palm resting against the gentle swell of my stomach. His breath was slow, steady, brushing against the back of my neck. It was grounding. Safe. Like all the times he had held me before.

But then reality came crashing back.

I stiffened, blinking hard, my heartbeat a steady drum against my ribs.

Because this wasn’t right. He wasn’t supposed to be here.

He wasn’t supposed to be holding me like this was something we did, like he hadn’t spent months running, like I hadn’t spent just as much time trying to convince myself I didn’t need him.

I sucked in a breath, ready to shove him away, but then—I smelled it. Perfume on his skin. Sweet like vanilla, but with a hint of spice to it.

My stomach dropped.

It was subtle, faint beneath the scent of him, but it was there and it wasn’t mine. The realization was a slap to the face. I clenched my jaw, willing myself not to react. It doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter. He wasn’t mine. Not really. Not anymore. This? This was a mistake.

I swallowed against the tightness in my throat, but my mind was already racing—already whispering—already painting pictures I didn’t want to see.

Where had he been? Who had he been with? Had he fucked her?Had he whispered her name the way he used to whisper mine?Had he touched her like how he was holding me right now? Like I still fucking belonged to him?

My throat burned. I hated that he had climbed into bed like it meant nothing. Hated that even now, my traitorous body wanted to lean into him. I closed my eyes.

No. No, I wasn’t doing this. I wasn’t going to be that girl. I wasn’t going to sit here, waiting for him, pretending this was anything more than it was. It was better this way. It had to be.

And yet—it still fucking hurt. The ache was deep, hollow, curling low in my stomach like something sick.

He didn’t stir at first. Not until I was standing, arms crossed, staring at him with my chest tight, my skin burning..

His body shifted, muscles flexing, his fingers twitching against the sheets before his eyes fluttered open. Bloodshot. Unfocused. His lips parted slightly, brow furrowing as he took in the empty space beside him—then me .

And just like that—his whole body stilled .

"Summer…"

His voice was wrecked . Groggy. Rough with sleep. And— fuck him —but there was something in the way he said my name that hurt .

But I wasn’t soft anymore.

I wasn’t his to hurt. I crossed my arms, my voice sharp and cold, holding back the fucking rage clawing its way up my throat. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

Connor blinked, slow and heavy, his muscles tensing. His jaw ticked. He fucking knew what I meant.

For a second, he didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just watched me , his eyes unreadable.

Then—his voice dropped, low and rough, the rasp of something broken beneath it. "I’m staring right at it."

My stomach twisted. Because that? That wasn’t fair. My fingers dug into my arms, my nails biting into my skin. I hated the way my heart ached . The way his words made me want to believe him. But I couldn’t.

I wouldn’t.

"You don’t get to do this."

His brow furrowed. "Do what?"

I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head, eyes burning. "Disappear. Leave me alone with all these thoughts. Let me think you’re out there fucking someone else."

His whole body tensed. "You really think that?"

I hated the way his voice sounded. Like the thought alone was a fucking insult. Like he wasn’t the one who had given me every reason to believe it.

I let out a hollow laugh, but there was nothing funny about it. "I don’t know what to think, Connor. I don’t know anything anymore."

He pushed himself up, the sheets slipping down his chest, muscles taut beneath them. He stared at me . Something dark flashed in his eyes. Something dangerous.

"I didn’t fuck anyone tonight," he said, voice firm, rough, certain .

My stomach clenched.

I wanted to believe him. Fuck , I wanted to believe him.

But I shook my head, looking away. "It doesn’t matter."

"It fucking does." His voice sharpened, raw, like it was the only truth he knew. "Why the fuck would I be with anyone else when you’re the one on my mind?"

His words hit —sharp and jagged, cutting deep.

“Because you’ve done it before,” I whispered, swallowing the painful lump in my throat. Connor’s expression slackened, and remorse filled in the gaps while I took a step back.

“Don’t do that, baby,” he whispered, and before I could stop him, he was standing and walking toward me.

A rough, desperate clench at my waist. A firm tug that had me stumbling into him, my breath catching. His fingers dug into my skin like he was afraid I’d slip away, like if he held on tight enough, he could fix all the ways he’d already fucked this up.

And I should have pushed him away.

Should have shoved him back and told him this isn’t how we fix things. But I was so damn tired of fighting him and myself.

His mouth crashed against mine.

It was reckless. It was messy. It was so fucking raw.

I gasped into his lips, my hands brushing his hair, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away. And all the anger, all the pain, all the confusion—it melted into something else. Something hot and desperate and unavoidable.

Connor growled into the kiss, his hands everywhere. He walked me back until my knees hit the bed, until I was falling, until he was on me, heavy and solid and real.

And fuck—fuck—I let him.

Because this?

This might not be love.

But right now, it was the only thing we knew how to do.

Connor handled my waist like he was staking a claim, fingers digging into my skin, his breath ragged, his chest rising and falling like he was barely keeping himself in check.

"Fuck, Summer," he groaned against my neck, his lips hot and open-mouthed, teeth scraping along my pulse, making me shudder. His fingers flexed, pressing into the softness of my waist, like he wanted to grab, to hold, to never fucking let go. "You have no fucking idea what you do to me."

I did know.

I could feel it.

His cock, thick and hard, pressed against my stomach through his boxers, already leaking against the fabric. The heat of him, the sheer size—God, I had missed this, missed him. And now? Now I had him exactly where I wanted him.

Or, well. Almost.

“Wha—” Connor grew confused when I pulled away.

“I want you on your back,” I told him. Then I shoved him on the bed, and I took off my clothes. His cock was rock hard and his boxers were tented. I did my best to work them off, avoiding taking him in my mouth when it started to water.

Not now.

I needed more than his cum on my tongue at that moment.

As soon as we were both naked, I straddled him. My pussy was wet despite my best efforts to ignore his effects on me, and for the first time I didn’t bother to avoid it. I rocked my hips against him, teasing, feeling the sharp inhale that rattled through his chest.

"You like this, don’t you?" I whispered, dragging my nails down his stomach, feeling the tremor that ran through him. I hoped he didn’t hear the self-consciousness in my voice.

I shouldn’t have bothered thinking about that. Connor tipped his head back against the pillow, his eyes fluttering closed for half a second before locking back onto me—blown wide, dazed, hungry.

"Fuck yeah, I like this," he rasped. His hands slid up, over my ribs, palms spreading over my full, sensitive breasts, pinching and plucking my beaded nipples. I gasped, arching into his touch, and his lips curled, slow, predatory. "Like watching you use me."

I swallowed hard, my skin burning under his stare, under the raw, open hunger carved into his face.

"Then let me," I whispered.

His pupils blew wide.

"Fuck." His hands dropped to my hips. "Take it, baby. Take whatever the fuck you need."

I reached between us and palmed his cock, pumping it slowly until he hissed and arched beneath me, slowly growing impatient. The thick length of him flushed dark, already slick at the tip. My mouth watered. Connor groaned when I wrapped my hands around him.

"Shit, Summer," he ground out.

I smirked, shifting above him, rubbing the head of his cock against my slick folds, teasing him, watching the way his stomach tensed.

"Do you know how much I hate it?" I murmured, dragging him through my wetness, coating him. "The fact that every time I’m with you, I’m wondering about who you were with before? And whether you thought about me… if it was transactional, or if those women gave you something I couldn’t."

His eyes snapped open, feral.

"Summer." His voice was a warning, raw and low, but his hips rocked up instinctively, chasing the heat, the slick. "Don’t do this now, baby. Don’t—"

I sank down in one smooth motion, taking him in deep and Connor snapped.

His hands flew to my waist, a strangled groan ripping from his throat as I took every thick, pulsing inch of him in one agonising movement. Fuck—fuck, it felt so good it almost knocked the air from my lungs.

His jaw clenched, his hands trembling against my skin.

"Jesus Christ," he gritted out, his voice wrecked. "You’re so goddamn perfect, baby. Fuck—"

I moaned, rolling my hips, feeling the way he filled me so perfectly, so deeply.

"Goddamn," he muttered, his thumbs stroking over my sensitive nipples, watching the way they hardened under his touch. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, his expression fucking starving.

"You like that?" I panted, moving slowly, dragging my hips up and down his cock, feeling every thick inch of him stretching me open the further down I got.

His fingers kneading my breasts, rolling my nipples between his fingers.

"I fucking love it," he growled.

He sat up suddenly, mouth latching onto one aching peak, sucking hard. A cry tore from my throat, holding him there as he licked, sucked, teased until I was shaking in his lap, riding him harder, faster.

"You’re so goddamn perfect," he rasped against my skin. "Look at you, riding me so good, taking me so fucking deep—"

I whimpered, grinding against him, his words making everything tighter, hotter.

"Connor—"

"That’s it, baby," he coaxed, voice low and filthy. "You gonna come for me? Gonna make a fucking mess all over my cock?"

I shuddered, the heat building, spiraling, my thighs trembling as I bounced on his cock, riding him faster, harder, the sound of our bodies slapping together obscene.

"I need—" My voice cracked, desperate, my nails biting into his shoulders.

"I got you," he murmured, one hand dropping between us, his fingers finding my clit, circling just right.

My entire body locked up.

"Connor!" I sobbed, my orgasm slamming into me so hard I nearly collapsed against him. My walls fluttered around his cock, squeezing, milking him, and he groaned, brutal, his arms wrapping around me, holding me tight as he fucked me, chasing his own release.

"Jesus fucking—" He snarled, his rhythm turning erratic, his cock throbbing inside me.

"Come inside me," I begged, breathless, wrecked. "Please—"

His entire body tensed. His hips snapped up, burying himself deep as he broke, a rough, guttural growl tearing from his throat as he spilled inside me, filling me with his warmth.

We shook together, both panting, breathless, clinging to each other like we were afraid to let go.

Silence stretched, nothing but the sound of our breathing, the lingering tremors, the heat still simmering beneath our skin.

Then—his arms grabbed me.

His lips brushed my temple, soft, lingering.

"No other women could ever compare to you, Summer," he murmured, voice hoarse, possessive. "I’ve spent enough months trying to forget you—and that’s all the others were—but they couldn’t compare to the way I feel when you’re with me… When we’re together like this."