Page 8 of Meesha & Connor (What Happens In Vegas #2)

“Connor,” I gasp, my braids splayed across the navy pillowcase as he works his magic between my thighs. His fingers slip inside me while his mouth focuses on my most sensitive spot. The man knows every inch of my body like he’s been studying it for years—which he has.

I grip the crumpled sheets, my body tensing with anticipation as his tongue leaves me breathless and desperate for release.

His strong hand grips my hip, steadying me as I begin to tremble. “Right there, baby,” I breathe. The contrast of his pale skin against my mocha thighs is familiar yet still thrilling after all these years.

When pleasure crashes over me, I cry out his name, my back arching off the mattress. Connor doesn’t let up, drawing out every last tremor until I’m boneless and breathless.

As I float back to reality, he moves up my body, pressing kisses along my hip, my stomach, my collarbone. The medallion hanging from his neck brushes against my skin. His hardness presses insistently against my thigh.

“Babe,” I manage between breaths, glancing at the clock on the nightstand, where our wedding calendar shows “14 DAYS!” in bright red letters. “Kamal’s birthday party. We’re already running late.”

Instead of answering, Connor slides inside me. I inhale, my body instantly responding despite my protest.

“Connor,” I whisper again, but this time with no resistance in my voice. My hands find his back, tracing the muscles there.

“Je te veux,” he murmurs against my neck. “Ten more minutes, ma belle.”

I surrender completely, wrapping my legs around his waist to pull him deeper. His rhythm is steady and strong, exactly what I need. The weight of his body on mine, the scent of his skin, the taste of his kiss are overwhelmingly right.

When he shifts, hitting that perfect spot inside me, I feel another wave building. “Don’t stop,” I plead, my nails digging into his shoulders.

“Jamais, never stopping, ma belle,” he promises, his voice strained with restraint.

The second orgasm hits even harder than the first, leaving me calling out his name. Connor groans as my body tightens around him, his movements becoming sloppy until he finally surrenders, collapsing against me with a satisfied sigh.

We lay tangled together for several blissful moments, my fingers lazily tracing patterns on Connor’s back while his breath steadies against my neck.

“We really should get up,” I murmur, though I make no immediate move to leave his arms.

“Five more minutes,” Connor bargains, nuzzling deeper against me.

I laugh, extracting myself from his arms. “That’s what you said twenty minutes ago.”

Reluctantly, I slide out of the bed, gathering my scattered clothes. Connor watches appreciatively as I slip into my underwear and reach for my plum wrap dress.

“Are you sure we can’t miss it?” Connor asks, still sprawled across the rumpled sheets. “This party is very last minute.”

I toss his jeans onto the bed. “Up, Beauregard. We promised Antonio we’d be there.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Connor finally rises, pulling on his boxers. As I stand before the mirror applying lipstick, he wraps his arms around my waist from behind, pressing kisses along my shoulder.

“Connor,” I warn, though I can’t help smiling at our reflection. “Behave.”

“Two weeks,” he murmurs against my skin. “May seventeenth. Two weeks and you’ll be Meesha Beauregard..”

My heart skips at the words. Despite everything, we’ve made it here, to the final countdown.

“I can’t wait to be your wife,” I admit softly, turning in his arms.

Connor cups my face, his expression suddenly serious. “I’ve been waiting to marry you since your parents insisted on marriage before we could live together, ma belle. These next two weeks might be the longest of my life.”

I rise on tiptoes to kiss him, careful not to smudge my freshly applied lipstick. “Then let’s not be late for this party. We need all the distractions we can get.”

The banquet hall of the Winter Bay Grand Hotel glitters with tiny lights and midnight blue decorations for Kamal’s birthday. Connor’s hand rests at the small of my back as we navigate through the crowd, fashionably late despite my best efforts.

“There’s Jessa,” I wave at my friend, who stands near the gift table in an emerald dress that complements her brown skin beautifully. She seems distracted, her eyes fixed on someone across the room.

I follow her gaze to spot Jaxon Jamison in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit, standing with a stunning woman in black. “Is that Jaxon with a date?” I whisper to Connor.

“Looks like it,” Connor murmurs, his breath warm against my ear. “He didn’t mention anything when we were doing our final fitting.”

We make our way to Kamal, who greets us with a wide smile. “The lovebirds finally arrive! Let me guess. Traffic was terrible?” His knowing smirk makes me blush.

“Something like that,” Connor replies smoothly, passing over our gift. “Happy birthday, mon ami.”

As Kamal unwraps our present—a rare single malt whiskey sourced from Quebec—I notice Jessa moving purposefully toward Jaxon only to be intercepted by the photographer. The frustration on Jessa’s face is visible even from across the room.

“I need to check on Jessa,” I tell Connor, squeezing his hand. “Meet you at the bar in ten?”

He nods, pressing a quick kiss to my temple before I weave through the crowd toward my friend. “Girl, you need better timing,” I say, noting how her eyes never leave Jaxon, who is now standing near the dessert table and adjusting his cufflinks.

Jessa is already moving in his direction with quick strides only to be intercepted by her cousin Gina. The party continues around us—champagne flowing, laughter rising above the music. I join Jasmine near the salad bar while he speaks with Kamal’s father.

“Have you noticed Jessa tonight?” Jasmine asks, nibbling on a chocolate-dipped strawberry. “She can’t keep her eyes off Jaxon.”

“And he keeps finding reasons to look her way,” I add. “I hope she tells him how she really feels instead of hiding behind her fears.”

As I say this, a hush falls over the room. I turn to see Jessa taking the microphone. When she begins to sing Dawn Sears’ “Don’t Take Your Hands Off My Heart,” I grab Jasmine’s arm in shock.

“What is happening?”

The answer comes moments later when Jessa’s voice carries across the stunned room: “I love you, Jaxon! I want to be your wife forever. I don’t care that we got married in Vegas while we were drunk!”

“Married?” My hand flies to my chest. “Lord, have mercy!”

Connor appears at my side, his expression equally shocked. “Mon Dieu! Did you know about this?”

I shake my head, watching the scene unfold with fascination.

“Look at them,” I whisper to Connor. “They look so happy.”

Connor’s arm wraps around my waist, pulling me against him. “Dans deux semaines,” he murmurs in my ear. “Two weeks, ma belle, until that’s us standing up there, making it official.”

I turn in his arms, seeing the love reflected in his eyes. “I can’t wait.”

As Jaxon and Jessa seal their love with a kiss, Connor’s lips find mine briefly. Surrounded by friends celebrating love in all its messy, complicated glory, I feel a renewed certainty about our own journey to the altar.

As the music shifts to a slower tempo, Connor pulls me onto the dance floor, his hand warm and secure against the small of my back. I let myself sink into the comfort of his embrace, pushing away the nagging thought that’s haunted me for weeks.

Last night, I’d sat on the edge of his bed watching Connor sleep, the confession burning on my tongue. I’d opened my mouth to wake him, to confess, but the fear had sealed my lips once again. Just like during our stargazing date when I’d rehearsed my confession only to give him head instead.

I swallow hard and focus instead on the way Connor’s body moves with mine, the security of his arms around me. Just like I’ve done every day since Vegas.

“You look happy,” he murmurs, his lips close to my ear.

“I am happy,” I reply, letting my fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Seeing Jessa and Jaxon finally admit their feelings... it makes me think about us.”

Connor draws me closer, his body moving perfectly in rhythm with mine. “About how much smarter we are? No Vegas wedding for us.”

I laugh softly, relaxing into his embrace. “About how lucky we are. How right this feels.”

As we sway to the music, a profound clarity strikes me. While my friends have spent years dating, searching, and sometimes settling, I’ve had what they’re looking for all along.

The certainty I feel with Connor isn’t just familiarity—it’s recognition.

His thoughtfulness shows in how he packs my favorite snacks for road trips without being asked, learned to braid my hair the summer I broke my wrist and believed in Antonio’s company when others wouldn’t.

These aren’t just gestures; they’re evidence of something I’ve been too blind to fully appreciate until now.

I rest my head against his chest, feeling the heartbeat I’ve felt countless times. While others still search for their person, I found mine a decade ago.

His steadiness anchored me through nursing school, through my father’s heart surgery, through every storm life has thrown our way.

What I love most isn’t just his reliability, but his passionate defense of what matters and his dry humor that reduces me to breathless laughter.

I allow myself to believe that we’ll make it, that our future will remain uninterrupted and beautiful.

“I believe this dance belongs to me, Meesha.” Dennis stands beside us, impeccably dressed in a suit.

My body tenses instantly. Connor’s arm tightens around my waist.

“Non, all her dances are for me,” Connor replies coolly.

Dennis’s gaze slides to me, lingering uncomfortably. “What about her kisses? Are those all for you too?”

The temperature between us drops several degrees. Connor’s jaw tightens visibly as the DJ transitions to a livelier song. The sudden burst of bass makes my heart jump painfully in my chest.

“What exactly are you implying, là?” Connor asks.

“Why don’t you ask Meesha?” Dennis’s smile widens, predatory and smug.

My throat closes as I spot Jasmine watching us, her brow furrowed in concern. I grab Connor’s arm, my fingers pressing into his suit jacket.

“Connor, let’s go,” I whisper urgently, tugging him toward the exit. “He’s not worth it.”

“I actually came to speak to you man-to-man,” Dennis continues, raising his voice to be heard over a burst of laughter from a nearby group. “About Meesha and me.”

“There is no you and me,” I snap, panic rising in my tone as I scan the room desperately for an escape route. The exit seems miles away, blocked by clusters of celebrating guests completely unaware of my world collapsing.

But Dennis steps closer, blocking our path. “We met in Vegas a few weeks ago and hit it off... and now we’re in love.”

“What?” Connor’s voice drops dangerously low.

“You’re delusional,” I hiss, pulling Connor toward the exit. “Connor, please let’s just go. He’s stalking me.”

“She wasn’t calling me delusional when we were kissing,” Dennis calls after us.

Connor stops abruptly, turning to face me. The music continues around us, but the moment feels suspended in silence. A server pauses beside us, offering champagne before reading the angst and quickly moving on.

“What is he talking about, Meesha, crisse?” His voice is controlled, but his eyes betray his confusion.

“I’ve been waiting patiently, Meesha. But I’m done waiting. He deserves to know who you really want.”

“Can we please discuss this somewhere private?” I plead acutely aware of curious glances from nearby guests. Carmen catches my eye from across the room, her expression questioning. I look away quickly.

“No.” Connor’s expression hardens. “I want to know what’s going on. Right now.”

I take a deep breath, my hands trembling. “It’s not what he’s making it sound like.”

“Then what is it?” Connor asks, his voice strained.

“I... I did meet him in Vegas,” I admit, lowering my voice and stepping closer to Connor, trying to create an illusion of privacy.

My legs feel weak, caught between fight and flight, neither option promising safety.

“We chatted for a bit and then we kissed. I didn’t stop it right away.

” My eyes fill with tears, blurring the decorative lights into starbursts.

“It meant nothing, Connor. It was a stupid mistake that I’ve regretted every day since. ”

Connor’s face goes completely still, his eyes searching mine. Around us, the party continues, oblivious to the way my world is cracking apart at the seams.

“You kissed another man,” he says slowly.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “It meant absolutely nothing.”

Dennis watches our exchange with undisguised satisfaction, casually accepting a drink from a passing server as if he’s enjoying a show. “Connor, from one man to another, I don’t you think you deserve someone who will lie to your face for weeks.”

“Shut up,” I snap at him before turning back to Connor. “Please, can we go somewhere private to talk about this?”

Connor looks between Dennis and me, his expression unreadable as the music shifts to a slow love ballad. Couples around us move closer together in painful counterpoint to the distance growing between us.

Antonio and Carmen appear in my peripheral vision, concern etched on their faces as they move in our direction.

“Oui,” he finally says. “We need to talk. But not here.”

As he leads me toward the exit, his hand no longer rests at the small of my back. The distance between our bodies, normally nonexistent, now stretches.