Page 82 of If You Claim Me

“We’re all someone’s villain,” she replies. “Maybe you get to be his angel.”

“I would like that.”

When we return to the table, Tally is talking about going to a nightclub, but that’s never been my scene. I can only handle so much before I’m on sensory overload. There’s too much contact with people I don’t know, too many unknowns. So when we head out, I thank my friends for a fantastic night and take a car to Grace Manor.

Connor meets me at the front door. He’s dressed in black joggers and a black T-shirt, the art on his arms on display.

I blink at him. “Did you wait up for me?”

“My sisters texted. So did Lexi and Flip.”

“Flip texted you?” I press a hand to his chest and kick my heels off, groaning at the relief.

“To tell me you were coming home, and that there were no shots, but you’re a lightweight.”

I nod vigorously. “I am such a lightweight.”

“Let me carry you to bed, darling.” He dips down and tucks an arm behind my knees and another behind my back, sweeping me off my feet.

I loop my arms around his neck as he steps into the elevator, and press my face into his warm skin and inhale.

“Are you sniffing me?”

“Maybe.” He smells like sandalwood and citrus, with a hint of mint.

A few moments later, he steps off the elevator, but as he approaches my door I murmur, “Your room.”

He halts.

I lift my head and meet his wary gaze. “I want to stay with you tonight.”

His jaw clenches and releases. “I won’t touch you when you’re drunk, Mildred.”

“You’re touching me now.”

“You know what I mean.” His fingers flex.

“I’m not asking for sex. I just want closeness.”

“Why?”

I sigh, suddenly feeling the weight of everything. “Let me pretend this is real. Just for tonight. Please.”

He regards me with impassive eyes before he presses his lips to my temple. “Okay.”

A single lamp illuminates his bed. But it smells like him, feels like him—dark and broody, a mystery I want to solve. He carries me to his bed and carefully sets me on the satin comforter.

His gaze roves over me, nostrils flaring. “Let me get your pajamas.”

“I’ll take the shirt you’re wearing.”

“Mildred.” His eyes darken.

I grin. “Connor.” I pull my dress over my head.

“You’re a Dredful menace.” But he looks up at the ceiling and removes his shirt, tossing it on the bed. “Tell me when you’re decent.”

I unclasp my bra, letting it fall. Then thread my arms through the sleeves and pull the shirt over my head. It’s soft and smells like him. “I’m decent.”