Page 11

11

ALLISON

I storm ahead of him into the motel lobby, my face still burning.

If I just pretend it never happened, maybe the universe will erase my dick-grabbing moment from reality.

I’m lost in my humiliation, carefully avoiding eye contact with him.

Connor is calmy booking rooms.

I snap back to reality when the receptionist hands over the key.

"One bed suite," she chirps.

I squeak, blinking at her in shock.

Surely, this place has more than ? —

Connor chuckles. "Perfect."

I whip my head toward him, horrified. “W-What?”

He shrugs, smirking.

"You seemed pretty comfortable getting handsy earlier."

I don’t even remember grabbing the room key, stomping up the stairs, or barging into our shared room with one damn bed.

I’m seconds away from spontaneous combustion.

And if I survive the night, it’ll be a goddamn miracle.

* * *

I stand at the foot of the bed, staring at it like it personally betrayed me.

Connor tosses his bag down, stretching his arms. "Long day, huh?" he says casually.

I don’t react.

I’m frozen, trying to process what the hell happened today.

First, I threw a jealous tantrum and dragged him from a diner.

Then I accidentally took him to a romantic restaurant and grabbed his dick.

I’ve officially lost all sense of control.

He pulls off his hoodie, tossing it on the chair.

I blow out a breath, bracing myself.

His shirt rides up slightly as he stretches.

I don’t look.

Lies.

I grab my pajamas and bolt for the bathroom, where I have a five-minute mental breakdown while staring at myself in the mirror like I’m a stranger.

When I’m finished, I calmly walk out of the bathroom like I’m perfectly fine.

Connor is already in bed, looking way too comfortable.

I hate him.

I slowly climb under the covers, staying as far on my side as possible.

The bed dips when he rolls, and I tense.

It’s fine.

I’ll just go to sleep and forget today ever happened.

I squeeze my eyes shut, focusing on my breathing.

Slowly, my tense muscles relax.

Warm breaths graze my ear. "You’ve got a strong grip, sweetheart."

I physically convulse.

Connor turns away, laughing into his pillow.

I shove my face into my pillow. “I hate you,” I mutter.

He chuckles, rolling onto his back, utterly smug. “Didn’t seem like it when you were grabbing my junk.”

I fume but remain silent.

"Sleep tight, Payne."

* * *

I wake up warm and comfortable.

And… trapped?

I blink groggily, trying to process where I am.

Then I feel a warm, solid chest beneath me.

A thick, muscular thigh between mine.

Large, rough hands gripping my waist.

No.

It can’t be….

I lift my head one inch to check, and come face to face with Connor Byrns.

Oh. My. God.

I’m lying on top of him!

His gray eyes open, dark and unreadable.

The bastard smirks.

"Well, good morning to you, too, sweetheart."

I scream and roll off him like I’ve been electrocuted.

But I roll too far, too fast, and fall off the bed, hitting the floor with a loud thud.

Connor laughs his smug, perfect ass off.

I lay there, staring at the ceiling, wondering if it’s possible to die from embarrassment.

"Jesus, Payne," he mutters, still chuckling. "That was dramatic."

I sit up and fling a pillow at his face.

"Why were you touching me?" I snap.

His smirk deepens.

"Baby, you were all over me first."

My face combusts.

“No, I wasn’t.”

His eyes glint with amusement.

"Uh, yeah, you were."

He stretches, casually flexing his perfect abs just to torture me further.

"You were clinging to me like I was your emotional support hockey player."

He flashes an arrogant smile.

"Let me tell you, sweetheart... You really committed."

I sputter.

He props himself up on one elbow, watching me like a damn predator.

"Guess this means we’re officially engaged."

“Excuse me?”

He shrugs, all faux innocence.

"You kissed me first. You groped me at dinner. Now you’re crawling all over me in bed in the middle of the night."

I stare at him like he’s insane.

His smirk turns downright wicked.

"Face it, sweetheart. You’re obsessed with me."

I grab the nearest object—his hoodie—and throw it at his head.

He catches the hoodie mid-air, still smirking.

"I’ll take that as a yes."

“Go to hell, Byrns.”