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STAR

MAKE THIS GO ON FOREVER - SNOW PATROL

A WEEK LATER

“Eat.”

Conor frowned at me, then at the bowl of soup in my hands. “I’ve eaten.”

“When?”

“A couple hours ago,” he mumbled, his gaze drifting to his computer.

“It wasn’t,” I argued, half wondering when this had become a thing—me caring enough to pester a dude about his eating habits. “You ate breakfast before I went to Kat’s school to deal with those little fuckers who keep stealing her shit and that was five hours ago?—”

“Wait.” His eyes flared wide. “You didn’t deal with them personally, did you?”

I sniffed. “It’d have been more effective but no. Kat asked me not to break their arms this time.”

“Good. That school has ex-presidents’ grandkids for pupils. There’s probably Secret Service crawling all over it. I’ll bust your ass outta jail but I’d prefer not to have to.”

“Don’t care if they’re related to George Washington himself. You think I have a problem with getting in the face of an ex-POTUS’ grandbrat if they’re being horrible to Kat?”

“No, but even though we have an in with Davidson, I’d rather not piss off the Secret Service?—”

“There are ECD in their ranks.”

“I know.” He shook his head tiredly. “It’d be nice if people could stop having an agenda.”

“Like you don’t,” I couldn’t help myself from teasing. “Look, I made this. So you have to eat it.”

Conor stared at it. “ You made it? Or did Panera?”

“Me. I made it.”

“From a packet?”

“Nope. With real shit.”

“Real shit. I hope you’re not talking literally. I knew I shouldn’t have introduced you to pop culture.”

I hooted. “You think I stole that idea from The Help ? That was pie and this isn’t curried so you’d taste it if it was shit.” Spooning up some of my concoction, I sampled the simple vegetable soup for myself. “See? No feces were harmed in the making of this meal. Plus, I like you so I’m less prone to punish you.”

Still suspicious, he asked, “What flavor is it?”

“Jesus H. Christ, Conor. Eat the damn soup.”

When I pushed the bowl in front of him, he took the spoon and ate some.

Brows lifted, he declared, “It’s good.”

“I can cook. When I want to. I survived a desert storm, Conor. Without MREs. Trust me when I say Dead To Me and Grail were not doing the cooking.”

He smirked. “And you wanted to cook. For me. I’m honored.” His gaze turned distant. “And horny.”

“I’ll accept both statuses.”

“Is this why you brought soup?”

I snorted. “Horny wasn’t the end goal, more like you had to be hungry and weren’t moving from your desk any time soon.”

“It’s this match-fixing business. It’s fascinating.”

My lips twitched. “That's what you're doing?”

“Uh huh. I'm working on two pieces of software that deal with predicting outcomes. The first one is for targeting serial assailants in murder or sexual assault cases.”

I pursed my lips in thought. “That program you started developing for your da? That takes stats and enables you to figure out the likelihood of the next place of an attack as well as their neighborhood?”

“You remembered!”

“Of course I did. It’s fascinating. And creepy. Like Minority Report without Tom Cruise.”

He grinned around his soup spoon. “Yeah, apart from we’re not the government.”

“I thought you’d have stopped working on that now that he’s dead.”

“How can I stop?” He grimaced, his expression so pained that I had to reach out and grab his hand. “You’re giving back by working with Rachel on this charity, and this is my chosen method.”

“True.” I rubbed my fingers over his then knotted ours together. “What’s the second project?”

“Making software that predicts match outcomes.”

Sensibly, ‘predict’ came with air quotes.

I grinned. “Similar coding structure I’d imagine, only with different inputs?”

“Yeah,” he concurred, going into a basic rundown of how he was creating the system. “This way, we’ll be able to manipulate other teams and force wins so that the Saturns surf toward the top of the league.”

“While making a lot of money gambling and taking bets on those games?”

He winked.

“Declan’s taking to his new job as club president?”

“Not really.”

“It’s only because it’s soccer,” I grouched. “If it were any other sport, you’d be all over it.”

“I can’t argue with that,” he agreed, making me shake my head with a sigh.

“The Saturns are playing this weekend. I was going to take Kat…”

His nose crinkled. “That’s a silent command to come as well, isn’t it?”

I shot him a winsome smile. “I’ll make you more soup.”

“If we stop for apple pie at Aoife’s bakery first, then we have a deal.”

“I thought she’d stopped baking it to make something more interesting now that she’s gone viral again?”

“She always bakes it for me,” he preened.

Snorting, I watched him eat then asked, “You ready for our appointment later on?”

His gaze flickered to the clock. “It’s online, isn’t it?”

“Unless you feel like time-traveling back to earlier this morning so we could catch a flight to Lyon, sure.”

“You’re extra snarky today.”

I folded my arms against my chest. “You worked all night.”

“Are you pouting?” he inquired, peering at me like I was a bug through a microscope.

“I am.” And I wasn’t ashamed of it.

“You worked all night too.”

“Only because you did.”

“Okay?”

“I like sleeping with you.”

His grin turned cocky. “Sweeter words have I yet to hear. My woman likes sleeping with me. Do I get a gold star?”

“You can get a black eye if you’d prefer?”

“Nah, I’ll take the gold star.”

“And I meant sleeping . Not fucking. Though I like that too.” I cleared my throat. “With you.”

I wasn’t sure I’d ever want to do that again with anyone else. Just the thought made me want to puke.

“You used to be the best I’d never had,” he said softly, trying to grab my hand then yanking my arm when I wouldn’t unfold it from my chest before pressing his lips to my knuckles. “Now you’re just the best.”

“‘Just?’”

He winked. “You know what I mean.”

I hid a grin. “I know what you mean.”

“We’ll sleep tonight. In bed. So you don’t have to make soup instead.”

It wasn’t instead . It was because of .

I was not a nurturer. It wasn’t in me to be like that. But Conor… ah, hell, I wanted to make sure he was okay.

In fact, it was becoming a need .

So many people had been taken from me.

My mom, then my dad thanks to Jorgmundgander’s sweep-up process, then family I hadn’t even known were fighting in my corner…

I needed Conor to be all right.

I had to keep him alive.

Not that I could tell him that. He seemed to appreciate my unique way of thinking, but this whole ‘thing’ was some freaky shit even I couldn’t find any logic in.

I didn’t think he’d get it if I said, ‘Please don’t die, Conor.’

It didn’t have the same ring as, ‘I love you.’

“Hey,” he chided as if he knew I’d spaced out, his fingers reaching for my chin. “The soup’s delicious. Thank you.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” I said simply.

“I am, but I like that you made it for me.” A gleam lit up his eyes. “If you ever feel the need to bake, you could always…”

“Bake you an apple pie?” I hooted. “Not sure I should try to compete with Aoife. Making soup isn’t exactly baking.”

“A man can never have too much apple pie in his life,” he intoned piously.

"I have no idea how you stay so ripped with all the shit you eat.” I'd yet to see any signs of weight gain, even if he complained his shirt collars were tighter than before I came into his life.

“Good genes. And I’ll tell Aoife you called her apple pie shit. Just in time for the upcoming afternoon tea,” he teased, surprising me with his awareness of that.

Although, on second thought, I shouldn’t have been surprised. Conor seemed to have a preternatural awareness of all things family.

I refused to admit that I turned to mush inside at the idea that he considered Kat and me family too.

“I told Savannah I’m not going.”

He snickered. “It’s cute that you think that will deter her.”

My lips twitched—he had a point. “Worked the last two times.”

“She was busy writing articles then.”

“True. When she’s not so busy, she’s always more dangerous.” I tapped my chin. “Though I’m not convinced she’s not that blogger. I told you so .”

His brows lifted. “Never heard of them.”

“You are so tunnel-visioned sometimes—it’s unreal.”

“Definitely extra snarky,” he repeated, licking his spoon clean as he finished up his soup. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re a control freak who’s making soup because we didn’t sleep together. I hardly think you’re fine when your years-long project to take down the Sparrows is now in the hands of the authorities.”

“Want to know the truth?”

“No, baby. Please lie to me.”

I flipped him the bird. “It’s nice.”

“What is?”

“The notion of passing it over to people my grandfather handpicked to make justice happen.”

“You vetted them too and had some kicked off the team,” he pointed out.

“We did that together,” I dismissed, though he was right.

Ultimately, two officers had been removed from the team upon my request.

One, because his uncle’s cousin’s wife had ties to the Triads on mainland China, and the other because she’d worked on organized crime for the last ten years and her arrest rate was shady—I couldn’t prove she was on the take, but I’d gone with my gut feeling and had her removed anyway.

“So, it’s nice to hand over the responsibility is what you’re saying?” he asked, brows high. “But, wait, you said the notion. What does that mean?”

I bit my lip. “I’m antsy.”

“About?”

“Waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“Which other shoe?” Clarity had his eyes widening. “You’re still fixating on the shit Reinier said?”

“Yeah.” I blew out a breath. “You’re probably the only person I’d admit that to though.”

“It’s not a bad thing to go with your gut, but I don’t know how to help you when we’re gaining more and more access to the Sparrows’ operations and we’ve come across nada about that.”

“Guess this is a good time to tell you I’ve had the Sinners put out feelers, then?”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” he grumbled.

“Because I sound crazy. Reinier’s making me paranoid and I hate that.”

“You’ve been hiding it.”

“Not particularly.” This time, I sucked in a breath. “Regardless, you know I’ve been slipping into the department’s files, making sure they’re staying on track, reading their reports, and, so far, all the red notices are achieving what I hoped they would. But you’re right—nothing on organ trafficking.”

His gaze narrowed upon me. “You’re saying good things but your vibe is off.”

“I feel like that. I’ve been anxious since that last meeting with Rachel,” I admitted, threading my fingers together and toying with them.

“You should have said something,” he groused. “Why didn’t—” His gaze cut to the left at the sound of yet another fight between Ren and Stimpy, who snarled at each other like they weren’t cat and cat but cat and dog. As Stimpy careened into the room, Ren chasing him, he sighed. “Cats are a lot easier to deal with when they’re made of glitter.”

I couldn’t disagree.

Even if I thought that glittery cat statue of his was weird as fuck.

His hand snagged mine, putting a stop to my fidgeting, as he asked, “Why didn’t you say you were feeling anxious?”

“Because…” Swallowing, I peered at him. “It’s not just anxiety. I’m scared.”

His lips parted, then he spluttered, “Of what? Me? ”

“Of your reaction,” I mumbled, staring down at our joined hands. “I-I was dismissive at first but then it’s built up in my head.”

“Then you’d better hit me with it. Da always told us that confession was good for the soul,” he said dryly.

Having never felt the need to confess before, I didn’t know.

I sure as fuck didn’t know where to start—that was why I’d taken ages to bring this to his attention in the first place.

“Last year, I did a job for the Valentinis.”

His head tilted to the side. “I remember. They gave you a laptop from that rapist asshole and that’s how we found out where Liam and that Triad kid were being held by their kidnappers.”

“Yeah.” I cleared my throat. “That’s right.”

His gaze was expectant. “And?”

“There was a list on there?—”

“That’s how you got insight into some Sparrows’ bank accounts, right? I don’t remember what you were hunting for, just that that was the outcome,” he said drolly.

“I’m a bad person.”

He blinked. “I’m not a good one.”

“No, but you’d never do something like this. I knew it was a horrible thing to do. There’s no redeeming?—”

“Is this about our atonement deal? Because you’re doing a great job,” he encouraged, and it was so positive, his expression was so proud as he tried to egg me on to speak, that it made me sick to my stomach.

“Back when we’re talking, things were different. Not as hopeful. We were still looking for a way to bring the Sparrows down.

“That’s why I needed to do it. It was an act born of desperation, but I’d have followed through with it if Rachel hadn’t put a stop to it.”

“Hadn’t put a stop to what?” he inquired.

I didn’t answer that. “Rachel said if I went ahead with my plan, she’d work it so the ‘right’ people knew I had Kat which would get my ass busted for kidnapping a minor.”

“We need to talk to your grandfather about making that charge disappear.”

I swallowed. “Already have.”

“It’s gone?”

I nodded.

“Good. Now, that was a pretty solid threat. Why did she use that against you?”

“Damian Headley wasn’t just the mastermind behind a kidnapping ring. He wasn’t just a serial date rapist. He was also a blackmailer.” I stared down at my boots. “Some of the women had very high-powered fathers.”

A blanket of silence settled over us.

“One of the fathers was a bank president, right?”

His flat tone had me swallowing because I knew he was piecing together what had happened.

“Yeah. Headley had footage of his victims.”

“That’s what Rachel meant. She was talking about you blackmailing someone. The day after the siege at Troy’s.”

I bowed my head. “Yeah.”

“ I was a rape victim.”

I kept my gaze on my boots. “And you think I’m not?”

That didn’t appease his anger. “Someone could have done that to me. Hell, to us. I, I mean, we could have been… No one deserves that.” I could hear the ire in his voice shifting, morphing.

Then, there was more silence.

Dead. Stark. Roiling silence.

Until: “I can’t look at you right now.”

And the prophecy came true…

He was leaving.

Fuck, he was leaving.

When his chair rolled back, and he got to his feet and walked out of the room, I didn’t chase after him, didn’t try to defend myself when he knew who I was and what I was capable of.

Instead of justifying myself, I closed my eyes and sought calm.

He had every right to be angry, to be disappointed even.

I just…

I liked this .

Us.

The idea of breaking it was paralyzing.

That was why, an hour later, I hadn’t moved away from his desk. I just remained in that spot, fixed in place, staring out onto the cityscape ahead.

He probably wanted me to leave.

It was his place, after all.

Yet movement was beyond me.

When he returned, I half-expected him to rail at me for still being there. Only, he didn’t. He said nothing. Didn’t look at me. Didn’t touch me.

I sucked in a breath, taking note that it was easier to do that now he was here.

Without a word, he logged back onto his computer, hit his mouse a few times, and the sound of his fingers tapping on the keyboard let me know he was going to work and he wasn’t going to talk to me.

Then, however long later, the annoying bubble sound from a Skype call rang and I turned around even though it was the last thing I wanted, knowing the meeting had started.

Even that was hard.

My hips felt stiff, and my waist too. God, it was like I’d aged twenty years.

Spying a bunch of people on the monitor, I knew I needed to concentrate when I couldn’t put faces to names, but I didn’t have it in me to give a damn.

My grandfather was there, as was the head of the ‘Anti-Human Trafficking’ Department and his top-ranking detectives. Six of whom had already helped agencies the world over make dozens of arrests.

The meeting went on around me, and I didn’t even care that I spaced out. Conor’s anger was a living entity. It went deeper than disappointment. It was worse— this was tangled with hurt .

I’d often sought ways to push people away in my life. That I’d done this without him in mind, when the last thing I wanted was for him not to be my partner, hell, my penguin, was the ultimate of ironies.

I probably deserved it too.

I was a terrible human being and?—

“Star? What do you think?”

I jerked at my grandfather’s question and studied him blankly.

“I don’t understand why we’re getting them involved anyway, Anton,” a woman called Hoyt retorted, simultaneously covering up my hesitancy and infuriating me enough to break me out of my stupor.

“And who the hell are you to dictate whether or not we should be involved,” I snapped, “when you were all sitting on your asses while this trafficking bullshit went ahead under most law enforcement agencies’ noses?”

Anton sent me an amused look. “Whatever your thoughts, you can’t deny it’s unusual to confer with people such as yourself and Conor, Star.”

I lifted a shoulder. “No more unusual than to confer with you.”

“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. I’m an honorary member of Interpol’s General Assembly.”

Conor’s surprise was clear. “You are?”

“I am. Since last year.”

“That was fortunate timing, wasn’t it?”

“Very,” Anton confirmed with a small smirk.

Hoyt sniped, “It’s time to leave this to the officials.”

“Is it when you’re still depending on intel that Conor and I are providing you? Anyway, Hoyt ,” I snarled her name like it was a curse. “You’re only on this team because I vetted you first.”

“ You vetted me ?”

Her screech would have satisfied me if I’d been in a better mood. “I deemed you clean enough to work this case, unlike Johnson and Batesman who I didn’t. Don’t make me wonder why you’d be questioning our presence on this team when we’re still key sources of intel.”

She gaped at me until she sputtered, “My record is pristine.”

“No one is pristine,” Anton drawled, making Hoyt straighten her shoulders at the silent reprimand. “Star and Conor’s presence on the team, despite their backgrounds, is vital to ongoing operations. If you have issues with their help, I don’t want to hear anything about it unless it’s to resign your post in the department. Have I made myself clear?”

He received a bunch of shrugs and grunts for his pains from Ingridsdottir, Schmidt, and Deschamps, but Hoyt’s was definitely the most vinegar-laced.

“Anyway, Star, we were discussing the best way to deal with the FBI who isn’t cooperating with our red notices. They claim we procured our evidence illegally.”

“That’s ridiculous. Other agencies aren’t fighting this,” I retorted. “They’re just grateful for the intel.”

“The FBI isn’t clean of the Sparrows’ taint,” Conor said flatly.

Wasn’t that the truth.

I knew for a fact the Five Points had uncovered a Sparrow in the FBI—Caroline Dunbar.

“We can’t trust that they’ll act neutrally,” one of the cops, Aaron Goldstein, agreed, nodding at Conor’s statement.

Conor had brought him in during my ‘absence’ when Aidan’s game plan had been to tear down the NWS by planting law enforcement officers with known Sparrows, who’d work to gain their trust, and who would eventually be inducted into the organization.

That plan hadn’t gone swimmingly.

Dead To Me had told me she’d taken out Senator McClure on Conor’s orders because Goldstein had uncovered the sex slave he was holding in his fucking basement.

“Act neutrally?” I repeated with a scoff. “You can’t trust they’re not Sparrows more like. While you can’t compel a law agency to make an arrest, you can shame them into it.

"Of the recent arrests that have been made, is there anywhere they refused to act but, say, the DEA didn’t?”

Goldstein cleared his throat. “Most of our groundwork has been on the European side of things. Stopping the trafficking in its tracks.

"The SEC has been cooperating and we’ve made ground with the Washington DC Police Department as well as the DEA and Homeland, but with the Feds blocking us, things are slower in the US than we’d like.”

Shit, I had spaced out if I’d missed that part of the conversation.

“Throw an unknown Sparrow under the bus and use that as proof the Feds need to clean house,” I rasped, well aware that Conor shot me a sharp look.

“Meaning you ‘know’ of an unknown Sparrow?” Goldstein queried.

“If I give you this intel?—”

“They’re a dirty cop who turned rat to the Five Points?”

“Yes,” Conor grumbled, nodding at Anton’s insight.

Clearly, he wasn’t happy about burning the insider connection, but I knew the Irish had the FBI director in their pocket, and if Dunbar’s arrest shamed the Feds into cooperating, well, good .

Goldstein shrugged. “They must have left a trail.”

“Undoubtedly. Do I have your agreement you won’t bring the Five Points into this?”

“This is why we don’t work with known mobsters,” Hoyt mumbled.

“That’s a load of crap,” I retorted. “You take the intel where you can find it and be grateful for what you’re given. In this instance, a way to bring the FBI to heel.”

“The name, Conor?” Goldstein asked, pen poised over a notepad.

“Caroline Dunbar. She works out of the?—”

“I know her,” Goldstein interrupted, interest gleaming in his eyes. “She’s got a missing finger, doesn’t she?”

“Something like that.”

“Why isn’t Davidson wading into this and whispering in the director of National Intelligence’s ear? He can make the FBI behave, can’t he?” I demanded, peering at Conor.

He blinked at me. Nodded.

That was it.

Fuck.

That was his way of telling me he’d speak with his da’s old friend, the director of the FBI, and get him to stop being so fucking stubborn.

“Once we prove their ranks are sullied, I’m sure we’ll be in a better position,” Anton said easily.

“So, we’ll reconvene after the FBI are under control?” I queried.

“Yes, we can?—”

Nodding, I got to my feet and, without waiting for a reply, wandered out of the office and headed into the bathroom off our suite.

There, I ran the shower and started stripping off.

Once I was naked, I headed inside the cubicle. Tipping my face against the spray, I ignored the sound of my cell phone ringing and washed up from the sweat of cooking soup and the colder sweat of confessing an unsavory truth to Conor.

When that was done, I tucked the towel around me and moved into our bedroom, only to find Conor there, lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

Though I didn’t exactly ignore him, I made for the walk-in closet where my stuff took up over half of the space now thanks to Savannah and her shopping spree.

As I dragged on some sweats and a tank, I returned to the bedroom and was about to leave when he darted upright and grabbed my hand on my way past the bed. “Where are you going?”

My heart stuttered.

Did he want me out?

“Back to the office," I said, hating how hesitant I sounded. "There’s a brothel in Queens that was staffed by Sparrows’ victims.”

“How did you find out about them?”

“That idea I had to have an anonymous tip line came through.” I didn’t even have it in me to be smug.

“What are you going to do with the women who are working in the brothel?”

“Rachel’s conferred with some women’s shelters to get them out of there, but it’s not going to be enough for long. We need our own shelters.

“We're planning the gala with that in mind now. She says that it isn’t sustainable for Lily Lancaster or me to fund everything.”

He grunted. “She has a point but that’s a lot slower route.”

“I know. She hasn’t turned our cash down yet, but we’re waiting for the facilities to get the appropriate licenses from the city.”

“Goddamn bureaucracy.”

“I’ve tried to grease the wheels as much as I can, but we’re to blame for how slow shit is right now. The government is whacked up on a local, state, and federal level because of our exposés.”

“Fuck.”

That about summed it up.

“She allowed Lily and me to fund the tip line. That was a battle but it was worth fighting.” Biting my lip, I asked, “Do you want me to sleep in another bedroom tonight?”

His gaze narrowed upon me. “Is that what you want?”

No. “I know I upset you.”

“I think that’s natural. Considering my past.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s hard to be frustrated with a loose cannon for being a loose cannon. Especially when I can imagine your mindset when you went through with this plan.”

“I did what I had to.”

“I know.” He blew out a breath. “Your resilience is something I love. Your strength too. But your propensity for utilizing collateral damage for your own gain is worrying.

“It’s not like you can say you’re a different woman now, not when this happened so recently, and it’s not as if I don’t fucking love this woman.

“Aside from bringing me into your team, I don’t want you to change, Star. But I’m allowed to be mad, just as you are, and we can need space without it meaning that one of us has to sleep on the couch.”

When he tugged me onto the bed, I turned away from him and stared at the wall opposite where there was this weird piece of glass that, if you hit a button, would turn fogged or transparent so we could watch each other showering.

He had a lot of random shit in this apartment.

Anything from rooms that were thematic to interior design inspired by comics.

He was lucky I didn’t give a fuck what a room looked like so long as functionality was there.

“It also means that homemade soup won’t fix anything.”

“The soup wasn’t to butter you up,” I said flatly. “It was just to feed you. I don’t like it when you don’t eat or don’t sleep. It makes me worry.”

His hand smoothed down my arm and he grabbed my fingers, tugging me backward until we were lying flat, him down his half of the bed, me with my head resting on his abs.

Both of us stared at the ceiling for what was probably several lifetimes before the urge to make another confession hit me: “I can’t be ashamed of what I’ve done to destroy these bastards. I did what no one else could. Me . I worked on this when people thought sparrows were just a breed of fucking birds.

“This was my fight. For years. I was alone. I had no one to rely on. Then I had you and you helped but I was still spearheading this. I had to use whatever resources were open to me to bring them down. I was incapable of doing anything else.

“Do I wish there’d been another way? Of course. But I had to fight fire with fire and the only kind of…” I decided to use his favorite word. “… atonement I can get is by doing whatever I can to bring the Sparrows’ victims home.

“I’m not going to change, Conor—whether you needed me to or not. I will always do whatever I have to for the people who matter to me. That includes you now.

"I’m willing to do the dirtiest shit imaginable to keep you safe. You’ve no idea what I’m capable of. You think you do, but I’m warning you here, now, that if you can’t handle this , you can’t handle my worst.”

A raging silence followed my words, but he didn’t let go of my hand. Didn’t shove me away. Didn’t tell me I was a hideous person—I already knew that anyway.

When the silence continued, when it pierced my heart, when it ruptured my soul, when I realized I’d been a fool to let him in, I started to sit up.

Then, he whispered, “I can handle your worst. Just don’t expect me to laugh and joke about it.”

“You think I laugh and joke about what I’ve done? If there is a hell, Conor, then I’m fucked because one day, I’ll be sitting beside Belyaev, Foundry, Smythe, DeLaCroix, and Reinier, just waiting for the devil to make us pay for the sins we’ve committed.”

More silence.

God, it was so cacophonous that it hurt my ears.

Then, a heavy sigh. “I love you, Star. Nothing’s going to stop that. Not your worst. Hell, not even your best. Understood?”

Trying not to take that to heart, I bit my lip. “Don’t say that if you don’t mean it because if you don’t, then I’ll walk out the goddamn door right this second and head back to West Orange.”

He sat up, slipped his hand around my throat, and tilted my face toward him. “Stop talking about fucking leaving me,” he snarled, his actions in direct contrast to the force of his words. “You. Are. Mine. Do you understand that?”

Then, before I could answer, our mouths were colliding, teeth almost clashing as he nipped my bottom lip so he could thrust our tongues together.

For a moment, I froze, totally unused to him like this, but the fire in him surged into me, swallowing me whole and sucking me down into the pit that was the want and the love I had for him. That was the love and the want he felt for me.

My hands slid around his shoulders, fingers digging into the muscles there as I held him close, needing him to be nearer, craving him to be in me. No barriers. Nothing between us.

I tugged at his tee, dragging it against his torso, raking it up his abs so that I could pull it over his head.

When he refused to stop kissing me, I settled with hooking it under his arms and letting my fingers explore his lean muscles.

As I delved between us, I toyed with his fly until I managed to unfasten the button of his jeans and could slide my hand into the pocket of space before I reached the bulge that was his dick.

With panting breaths, I let him tongue fuck me as I focused on shaping him and then jerking him off. His pre-cum made my palm slick and the immediacy of his response never failed to reassure any insecurities I might have had.

With a groan, he pulled back an inch, breathing just as heavily as I was, then he snagged a hold of my bottom lip with his teeth, nipped gently, then whispered, “You do not get to leave me.”

“I do if I’m not wanted for who and what I am,” I retorted with a panting breath.

His hand covered mine. “Does it feel like I don’t want you? Does it feel like you repulse me?”

It didn’t. But men’s bodies weren’t the most trustworthy monitor of anything .

Still, this was Conor.

He’d let me stroke his hair, had held me as I had a nightmare, and knew almost all of my secrets and hadn’t run yet.

This was what acceptance felt like— it wasn’t always going to be easy.

My hand tightened around his cock until he grabbed one of the straps of my tank and urged it down my shoulders. He did the same with the second until my tits were hanging in the hammock the neckline made, and he bowed his head and pressed his mouth to one.

I dragged my nails along his scalp as he sucked on my nipple, biting it hard enough for me to hiss before he tongued the part he’d bitten which made me jolt in surprise.

Pleasure sizzled around those nerve endings.

My fingers clutched at his hair as my hips rocked when the zing of sensation zipped between my nipple and my clit.

“Oh, fuck,” I breathed. “That felt good.”

He growled against my skin, making me moan as he sucked, interspersing bites with sucks, and then his hand dropped down, flexing beneath the waistband of my sweats and finding soft skin beneath.

When I parted my legs, I groaned as he aimed for my clit and found it.

With that direct stimulation, I started riding his hand, my fingers digging into his scalp as I held him in place. It bewildered me how wet I’d become until I realized this was angry sex.

Conor-and-Star-style.

The thought made me react like I’d been stuck with a cattle prod. Well, not one of his. A standard issue one.

I leaned down so I could nip the upper curve of his ear then bit down until he hissed and relinquished his hold on my nipple. That was when I tugged his head back and thrust my tongue into his mouth before kicking up a leg so I could straddle him.

He stopped me, even as he was fighting for control of the kiss, and dragged down my sweats so that I was bare. I didn’t argue, relieved to be free from the confines, then shifted over him so I was straddling his lap.

When he reached over to the nightstand, I frowned but then blinked when I saw the fancy wrapping.

“What is this?”

“Your belated Christmas gift,” he rasped.

“You’re giving me this now?” I complained.

“You’ll be grateful,” he countered, panting. “Open it.”

Breathing heavily and unhappy with the distraction, I snagged the bow and tore it apart. The four sides of the box parted to reveal a slimline vibrator, thick as a bullet, as long as the barrel of a revolver.

When I studied it, he rumbled, “Body-safe silicone. Bluetooth capabilities. Rechargeable. Same vibration capacity as a plugged-in Hitachi.” When I squinted at him with disbelief, he snorted. “Try it for yourself if you think I’m bullshitting.”

I heard the taunt and knew he meant every word.

I sucked in a breath, braced myself because this was Conor and he never made false promises, then hit the slight bump of the ‘on/off’ button.

It buzzed.

“Holy shit,” I whispered, feeling the vibrations ricochet through my hand.

It was a deep, thuddy pulse that I needed to experience where it was meant to be experienced.

Slipping it between us, I gently rubbed it around my clit, and I was pretty certain I saw God and all the saints when I did.

“Oh, fuck,” I bit off, rocking forward and pushing my forehead against his. “Oh, Conor. I-I—” Words eluded me as the intense buzz made me yelp when I finally made it to my clit.

My head rocked back in response and he attacked my throat, sucking on my pulse, leaving yet another hickey for me to smirk at in the morning.

When he fucked a finger into me, I cried out as he pushed back against the front wall of my cunt.

The immediacy of my orgasm was devastating.

It was like my entire body caved in, imploding around those nonstop vibrations as he fucked me with his fingers then tugged the vibrator from my weak grasp and slipped that inside.

More devastation left a trail in his creation’s wake as the intensity shot me higher, pummeling me with a pleasure so deep that it made every muscle in my body quiver in response.

Because it always took me so long to get off, I started crying when he grabbed a hold of my hips and hauled me deeper into him because this was short and sharp and everything in between and it was heaven and hell combined.

As he rubbed his cock around my clit, he bit off a curse. “Fuck, that feels good,” he mumbled against my throat, the gentle vibrations rioting with the violent ones down below.

Then he took it away.

Left me.

I felt the barrenness of the space.

Felt the loss of the vibrations?—

A sharp, piercing scream escaped me as he held it to my clit, and pressed his dick to my cunt, and thrust up into me with less care than usual, but fuck if I gave a damn.

I needed him.

I felt so goddamn empty and my pussy was pulsing around nothing. Being full gave me something to hold onto.

I sank down on him, just enjoying the sensation of fullness, but it only made the vibrations more intense.

A choppy wail rushed from my lips as his hands grabbed my ass and he started moving me on top of him, urging me to ride him.

My brain and body were both flying high as I began, but I paused halfway because another freakin’ orgasm was there, right there.

“Conor!” I screamed, coming so hard and so fast that I knew my heart was going to explode if I didn’t turn off this machine now . My thumb hovered over the button, but he shoved my hand away, not giving me any reprieve.

As I pulsed around him, I knew the vibrations were strong enough for him to feel deep inside. He ground out a curse then growled as he came, my pussy milking him for every drop of cum as I climaxed a-goddamn-gain, his fingers digging into my ass as he continued urging me to ride him, not stopping until both of us were wrung out. Then, and only then, did he reach for the vibrator. Then, and only then, did he switch it off.

I sagged against him and did the unthinkable—I burst into tears.

Never in my fucking life had I…

My brain blue-screened.

I couldn’t…

What the?—

“Shh, shhh,” he rumbled against my ear, stroking his hand over my hair, soothing me, gentling me. “It’s okay. You were so beautiful, Star. So fucking beautiful.”

“It felt… I couldn’t…” I garbled out more nonsense words.

“Shh, shh,” he whispered, rolling back onto the sheets and drawing the corner of one blanket over us.

As he cuddled me into him, he kept on murmuring the sweetest of words, words I didn’t deserve. God…

“I don’t deserve you,” I sobbed. “I’m a horrible person and you’re not.”

“I’m capable of horrible things too,” he replied softly, his hand continuing that slow, long stroke as he soothed me when I was the one who should be soothing him. “But maybe, together, we can do something better? We can be better. Or we can at least try…”

I bit my lip. “I killed Priestley.”

“I know you did.”

“Brennan told you?”

“No. Ma said that Niall was with Callum’s mother now. Full time. I read between the lines.” His throat bobbed. “I trust that she deserved it?”

“She did,” I whispered. “Some people need to die, Conor. Forrest and Bagpipes, hell, even Brennan softened up because she had a pussy. But I fucking knew she was scum. She turned.” I clicked my fingers. “Just like that and just for me. How can I not… How could I stop? She was dangerous. She’d have made that kid hate the O’Do—” I broke off. “ —us, too.”

He pressed a kiss to my temple and, slowly, as if he were allowing the words to form organically, murmured, “I’ve never needed you to be anything other than yourself. I think I forgot that today. I’m sorry, Star, and I’m grateful that you do the dirty work to protect the people you love.”

I pressed my forehead against his chest. “Even if that dirty work makes you hate me?”

“I could never hate you.”

“You say that now.”

“I say it and I mean it. Just… the only thing you could ever do to make me hate you is to leave me.” His arms tightened around me. “And to take Kat away. Don’t do that. Please.”

I closed my eyes and hugged him as tightly as he hugged me.

“Never,” I whispered. “No more leaving. I swear.”

That was the easiest promise I’d ever made in my whole life.