Page 16

16

ALLISON

I ’ve been a mess since Connor muttered those two devastating words.

“You’re mine.”

I haven’t recovered.

I’m not sure I’ll ever recover.

I run a hand through my long, dark hair.

I shove my door open, falling behind him reluctantly as we head into another hotel.

He’s all sunshine and rainbows while I’m silent and morose.

The receptionist barely looks up as she hands us our key. "One-bed suite," she mutters.

I stare at Connor in astonishment, my brain short-circuiting.

When I open my mouth to protest, Connor cuts me off without so much as a flinch.

"Perfect," he says smoothly, grabbing the key and putting his hand on my back, ushering me down the hallway.

I glare at him. "This is your fault," I whisper as we head to the stairs.

He grins. "How?"

I stare at him in disbelief. "How? You … you’re manifesting this bullshit!"

He chuckles.

I whip around, jabbing a finger at his chest. "This isn’t funny, Connor!"

He just stares down at me, amusement twinkling in his eyes.

He’s too close.

There’s too much damn eye contact.

Then, in that slow, rough voice that is currently ruining my life, he murmurs, “Sweetheart. It’s a little funny.”

I shove him into the door.

* * *

I’m standing at the foot of the bed, my arms crossed.

Connor is lounging in bed, looking way too comfortable.

"You getting in or are you just gonna stare at me all night?" he smirks.

I grit my teeth and crawl in, staying as far on my side as possible.

I face away from him, trying my best to convince myself I can handle this.

The bed shifts, and I hold my breath.

His warmth seeps into my space.

Before I can react, his hand brushes my waist.

I freeze.

"Relax," he murmurs, his voice a lazy drawl.

My entire body locks up.

Is he fucking kidding me? Relax?

"You’re fine," he continues in that calm, soothing voice, like he’s talking about the weather.

I make a strangled noise. "This is not fine!"

He chuckles, and it’s the most irritating sound in the world. "You’re so tense, babe."

“Stop calling me babe,” I snap.

"What should I call you? Oh, I know.” His voice dips lower. “Mine.”

I shiver, hating that I can’t control myself around him. “I’m not yours.”

He chuckles, hovering far too close to me. His voice is as smooth as Irish whiskey. "Wife."

I launch myself out of bed.

Connor loses it, laughing his ass off.

I whip around, positively feral.

"YOU’RE NOT FUNNY!" I scream, not caring if we get thrown out of this damn hotel.

He grins. "Oh, sweetheart." He props himself up on one elbow, watching me burn. "I’m hilarious."

I grab a pillow and throw it at him.

He easily ducks, grinning at me like the infuriating bastard he is.

* * *

I pace the floors, seething.

Every so often, I turn and glare at him.

His eyes crinkle as his lips curl into an amused smile, his deep chuckle filling the room.

My blood boils.

I’m tired, but I force myself to keep pacing. To put distance between us.

But an hour later, I’m too exhausted to continue.

I give up, crawling into bed, my eyes heavy.

I’m done fighting. Done speaking to a man who won’t listen anyway.

I’ll just go to sleep and ignore his existence.

My breathing evens out. My body relaxes.

His low, devastating murmur pierces the silence. “You can pretend all you want, baby.”

My eyes pop open.

“But we both know…” His warm breath tickles my ear."You like being mine."

I stop breathing.

I feel his smirk before he casually rolls over, turns off the light, and goes to sleep.

Leaving me lying there, completely wrecked.