Page 19

19

ALLISON

I refuse to sleep, knowing if I do, I’ll dream about Connor Byrns like he’s my white knight.

The problem is, like a broken record, I keep replaying what happened earlier.

The way his entire demeanor shifted in an instant.

The way he moved. It was fast, predatory, and lethal.

The way he grabbed that guy like he was nothing.

Worst of all is the way he looked at me after.

And once again, those words rolled out of his mouth, shaking me to my core. “You’re mine.”

My body tightens.

No. No. No. We are not spiraling over that!

I flip onto my stomach, burying my face in my pillow. It doesn’t help.

He’s still in the same room, existing in his infuriatingly sexy, Connor-like way.

With a sigh, I peek over at him.

He’s lounging against the pillows, one arm behind his head, shirt off, eyes closed like he could sleep through the end of the world.

Like he didn’t just threaten to break a man’s bones.

I scowl. "How are you sleeping right now?" I hiss.

Without opening his eyes, his lips curve into a smirk. “I sleep better knowing my wife is safe."

I implode.

Launching a pillow at his chest, I scream, "STOP CALLING ME THAT!"

He cracks one eye open, his smirk deepening. "Why?" he drawls.

"Because we’re not married!"

He shrugs. "Yet."

He says it so casually like he just ordered bacon for breakfast.

I grab the pillow and bury my face in it, muffling a scream.

Eventually, I flip onto my side, facing away from him.

I’ll just ignore him.

I’ll fall asleep and pretend this day never happened.

He doesn’t bother me. Doesn’t get under my skin.

But then, the bed shifts.

I freeze.

His breath brushes my ear. "You keep fighting it, baby, he whispers.

My lungs seize.

"But we both know…" His lips graze my shoulder. "If you’d listened to me, you wouldn’t have been in that situation earlier."

My body tenses.

Even though he’s right, he has no right to tell me what to do.

“I can do what I want?—"

His dark chuckles cuts me off.

“Sure you can. But you know what that means?” His fingers graze my hip. “When you piss me off, you don’t get my dick.”

Then he rolls over and goes the fuck to sleep.

I’m pissed.

Horny.

An overall mess of whirling emotions in this godforsaken motel bed.

I toss and turn.

I fume.

But when I roll over and look at him, and my stupid heart stutters, I know I’m in trouble.

Big, irreversible, can’t-go-back-now trouble.

* * *

Every time I close my eyes and drift off, I hear his voice.

"You liked watching me lose my mind over you."

It loops on repeat.

And I can’t escape it.

Mercifully, golden rays of sunlight begin to light up the sky.

We’ll be on the road again soon.

I’ll forget this ever happened.

I’ll purge it from my memory the second we hit Vegas.

I glance over my shoulder.

Connor is still sleeping beside me, his breath steady, strong, and infuriatingly calm.

I frown.

He’s oblivious to my turmoil.

As though he didn’t emotionally annihilate me last night and leave me lying here staring at the ceiling, questioning everything.

I get out of bed as quietly as possible, whispering a mantra to myself.

I will not look at him.

I will not acknowledge him.

I’ll get dressed, drink caffeine, and pretend last night never happened.

I’m halfway through buttoning my jeans, trying to delude myself.

The bed shifts, and I freeze.

His morning voice—deep, lazy, teasing—absolutely ends me.

"Mornin’, wife."

My head jerks up.

He’s stretching, smirking at me like he already won.

“Will you stop calling me that?” I snap.

He tilts his head.

"Why?" he asks casually, like he’s talking about the weather instead of slowly unraveling my sanity.

“Because we are not married, Connor!"

His lips twitch. "We can change that when we get to Vegas.”

I don’t think.

I just lunge at him, shoving him back against the pillows.

I straddle him, my breath ragged.

His eyes darken.

His smirk is gone.

I have his full, undivided attention.

“You think this is funny?" I hiss.

He doesn’t blink.

I yank him closer.

"You think this is some kind of game?"

His hands settle on my waist.

"Yeah, I do, sweetheart. And you’re losing."

I snap.

Like a completely insane fool, I crash my lips against his.

The kiss is desperate and hungry.

Out of control.

His hands tighten on my waist.

His lips part, and I taste him—smugness, desire, and sin.

And God help me, his eager response makes me feel things I shouldn’t. Things I’ve never felt before.

His fingers dig into my hips, pulling me closer.

I whimper, feeling his hardness beneath me.

He lets me kiss the hell out of him like he’s been waiting for this moment. Waiting for me to break.

Then he flips me onto my back.

His eyes are wild, devouring me.

He’s so close, his lips brush mine with every ragged breath.

“You finally done pretending, Allie?” His voice is rough, like he’s barely holding on.

“Admit it. You want me."

I can’t breathe. Can’t think.

All I know is I’m drowning in him.

His intensity.

His obsession.

The way he’s looking at me like he wants to ruin me just to put me back together again.

“Say it," he growls, his fingers sinking into my hips. "Say you’re mine."

I shudder beneath him, unable to deny the truth any longer.

“I’m yours.”

He smirks, the darkness in his eyes igniting.

"Good girl."

Then his mouth crashes down on mine, and everything else disappears.