Page 28

28

ALLISON

A noise outside stirs me.

I don’t open my eyes. I’m too exhausted, too sore, and too content to move.

Connor’s body is wrapped around mine like a blanket made of sin. One arm slung heavy over my waist. His chest warm against my back. His breath skims my shoulder, slow and steady.

I should panic.

I should leap out of bed and sprint for the door.

But I don’t.

I just… lie here, letting myself feel it.

I let myself pretend—just for a second—that this isn’t the worst idea I’ve ever had.

But then it all comes crashing back.

His hands. His mouth. His voice in my ear. The way he made me beg. The way I liked begging.

Heat flushes through my entire body.

Oh. My. God.

I need to get up. I need to move. I need to?—

His arm tightens around my waist.

“You’re thinking too hard, baby," he murmurs, voice rough and lazy, like he knew I’d wake up spiraling.

I squeeze my eyes shut. "Let me go."

He chuckles. "Not happening, wife."

I shove at his arm.

He doesn’t budge.

“Connor, I swear to God?—"

“You swear to God what?" His lips graze my shoulder. “You gonna pretend last night didn’t happen?”

“Yes,” I grind out.

“You gonna pretend you didn’t love every second of it?"

“Yes!”

His low, cocky laugh burns me from the inside out. “You gonna pretend I didn’t come inside you... over and over again... with nothing between us?”

His hand moves between my legs, rubbing the evidence of everything we did.

I freeze.

“Yes,” I whisper, voice trembling.

He presses a kiss to my neck. "Then why are you still in bed, baby?"

With the panic of someone caught in the act, I fling the covers off and lurch out of bed.

My legs are wobbly.

I trip over the sheet, almost face-plant into the floor, but manage to claw my way to my clothes.

He’s still in bed, lounging like a smug bastard. Naked, gorgeous, and grinning like he won the damn lottery.

“Stop looking at me like that!” I snap.

“Like what?” he asks innocently.

“Like you won !”

He shrugs. “I did.”

I throw my shirt over my head like it’ll give me armor.

Then he says the one thing that breaks me in half.

“I won the best prize of all.” A heartbeat before he says, “You.”

My breath catches.

I turn for the door, desperate to escape this room, this man , this feeling.

But he stops me.

One second, he’s in bed.

The next, he’s in front of me, cutting off my exit.

“Move,” I whisper.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he cages me against the door.

His body presses close, heat and scent and temptation in one lethal package.

He tilts my chin so my eyes are locked with his.

His voice is soft, final, lethal. “You can run, baby. But we both know you won’t get far.”

I shudder.

Because he’s right.

I don’t want to run.

I want to surrender.