Page 56

56

CONNOR

T he bar is buzzing with energy.

I’m nervous as hell as the spotlight swings to the small stage, momentarily blinding me. Which might be a good thing. Otherwise, I might puke.

Just pretend you’re singing to Allie. Only to her.

I grip the mic like I was born for this, strumming an imaginary guitar. “This is my first time doing this, so take it easy on me.”

The crowd laughs, putting me a little more at ease.

“I brought backup singers.” I gesture to Ford, Cole, Jake, and Daltyn, who look like an unhinged boy band that got lost on the way to rehearsal.

“Yeah, baby!” Gram yells. “Wiggle those hips for us!”

The opening notes of “Waking Up in Vegas” hit.

I launch into it, full volume.

Harper, Tara, Chloe, and Gram lose their minds—tears of laughter rolling down their faces.

Allie buries her face in her hands, absolutely mortified.

I double down. Elvis hips. Finger-pointing. Over-the-top dramatics aimed right at her.

She glares at me like she wants me dead.

I blow her a kiss.

The chorus hits. My backup singers jump in, swaying like synchronized idiots.

Allie mouths, I hate you.

I wink and mouth back, You love me.

Gram climbs onto the table, arms raised. “I NEED THIS AS MY RINGTONE!”

Phones fly into the air. The crowd eats it up.

By the time we finish, I bow like a rockstar and shout, “Thank you, thank you! Dedicated to my lovely wife, who clearly has excellent taste in men.”

Allie slides lower in her chair, but she’s smiling.

Harper raises her glass. “To Connor and his backup singers!”

“To Connor and his backup singers!” everyone echoes.

Then Ford’s smirk turns dangerous as he whispers in my ear, “Next song is ‘Blame It’ by Jamie Foxx. Let’s make it dirty.”

I lift the mic again and lock eyes with Allie. “This next one’s for my wife, too.”

The second beat drops, we go feral.

The bar is chaos.

The girls are screaming.

Allie’s eyes are locked on mine the entire time, and I’m already counting down the seconds until I can get her alone.

* * *

Later, we hit the bar for a quick drink before heading upstairs.

Only Gram is behind the bar, wearing a stolen apron and slinging cocktails like it’s her Vegas residency.

“You want a tequila sunrise, sweet cheeks?” she yells over the music. “Been making them since Woodstock!”

Jake blinks. “What the hell does that even mean?”

Ford sighs. “It means the senior citizen behind the bar is about to set the place on fire.”

“Damn right I am!” Gram cackles. “Now, who wants shots?”

I grip Allie’s waist. “We’re leaving. Now.”

“No way in hell!” Gram shouts. “You’re just in time for the main event! ”

Allie groans. “Please tell me you’re not running an underground gambling ring.”

Gram waves her off. “ That was one time —and very profitable, mind you. But no, sweetheart, this is much better.”

I groan seconds before she grabs Allie and me, and drags us to the center of the dance floor where Jake, Cole, Ford, Harper, Daltyn, Tara, and Chloe are already gathered, looking like they’ve either accepted their fate or are deeply concerned.

“What is this?” I ask warily.

Harper grins. “Dance battle.”

I blink. “ Again? ”

Ford slaps me on the shoulder. “Gram’s orders. Couple’s dance-off. Winner gets the penthouse suite for the night.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Gram smirks. “You scared, sugarplum?”

Allie tilts her head, eyes glittering with mischief as she taunts, “You scared, husband?”

I step closer. “If you challenge me, baby, I will win. ”

She smirks. “Then shut up and dance.”

The music hits, and it’s war.

Ford and Harper go full dramatic ballroom—spins, dips, and synchronized flair.

Cole and Chloe start off strong and immediately descend into chaos.

Jake and Tara are engaged in a straight-up twerking battle.

Daltyn momentarily disappears before he reappears holding hands with a blonde stranger.

But Allie and I?

We don’t choreograph.

We collide.

I spin her. She flips me off mid-twirl.

I dip her low and kiss her hard, right in front of everyone. She claws at my shirt like she wants to rip it off on the spot.

By the end, I’ve got her pinned to my chest, both of us panting, her fingers tangled in my collar.

Gram claps. “ Well, damn. ”

We win, obviously.

* * *

The penthouse suite is insane. Floor-to-ceiling windows. A jacuzzi. A bed so big I could lose my wife in it.

She twirls in the center of the room, arms stretched wide. “Okay, this was worth it.”

I stalk toward her, eyes locked. “I’m glad you think so.”

She pauses. “Why do you sound like?—”

I throw her over my shoulder and head straight for the jacuzzi.

“Connor!” she shrieks, pounding on my back. “Don’t you dare ? — ”

Too late.

We both go in, fully clothed.

She surfaces, gasping. “How is the water hot already? ”

She stops when she sees my face.

“You’re dead.”

I grin. “Had Gram heat it up while we danced.”

I crowd her against the wall. Her breath catches.

“You feel it too, don’t you?”

Her voice is barely a whisper. “Feel what?”

“This thing between us. It’s never gonna burn out.”

Her lips part. “I feel it. And you’re right. It won’t.”

I kiss her slowly. Deep. Possessive.

Her legs wrap around me, soaked clothes clinging like a second skin.

The heat of the water is nothing compared to the fire igniting between us.

My hands slide up her thighs, gripping her like I’ll never let her go.

She moans, back arching. “Connor…”

I growl. “Take it off.”

She does.

I tear off my shirt and her bra with one motion. Her panties follow next, soaked and useless. My pants and boxers are next.

My fingers slide between her thighs. She gasps.

“You’re soaked,” I rasp. “And not just from the water.”

She’s trembling when I lift her higher and thrust into her.

One stroke and we both lose it.

She digs her nails into my shoulders.

I slam into her harder. Deeper.

Her moans echo off the walls, raw and desperate.

She clings to me like she’ll fall apart otherwise.

My hands grip her hips, anchoring her to me as I move. Hard and deep, every stroke a claim.

The water sloshes over the edge, but I don’t care. I’m buried in my wife, and nothing else exists.

Her lips find mine again, messy and frantic. Her thighs tighten around me, heels digging into my back.

“Harder,” she pleads.

I growl, slamming into her, giving her exactly what she wants.

“Look at me,” I growl. “I want to see you come.”

Her eyes lock with mine, and she unravels. Body shaking. Mouth open. Screaming my name.

I follow her over the edge, thrusting deep, spilling into her with a guttural growl.

“Mine,” I pant. “ Fucking mine. ”

We collapse into the water, tangled and shaking.

Steam rises around us. The only sound is her breath and mine.

“We’re going to break this damn jacuzzi.” Her laugh is soft and sinful in my ear.

I kiss her jaw. “Then we’ll buy the hotel a new one.”

She turns her head. “Connor Byrns. Rich menace. Husband. Sex god.”

I grin.

This night is only the beginning.

And I’m never letting her go.