Page 48 of Sweet Sinners

Chapter forty-one

Cali

I wake slowly, wrapped in Connor’s heat, his breath warm and steady against my neck.

His arm is draped over my waist, palm cupping my breast even in sleep—like he’s marking territory, afraid I’ll slip away if he lets go.

My lips curve into a faint smile as I shift against him, remembering last night: movie forgotten halfway through, clothes stripped and tossed carelessly across the bedroom floor, our bodies tangled desperately beneath the sheets like we couldn’t possibly get close enough.

The week has been perfect—stolen glances in the kitchen, whispered conversations on the stairs, and rushed, hungry encounters that left my skin branded with his touch.

Work felt easier, too, with a new assistant who isn't bent on sabotage. Now, waking up with him pressed against me feels surreal, like I’m waiting for reality to catch up, for the moment when someone rips this perfect secret apart.

But the silence around us, the dim glow of the morning sun creeping through the blinds, feels too good, too real, to let go of.

Carefully, I roll slightly onto my back, turning my head to look at him. Connor’s face is peaceful in sleep, lips slightly parted, eyelashes fanned against his cheekbones. My stomach flips, tightening with a fresh wave of hunger—a craving that never goes away, no matter how many times I have him.

My fingertips drift lazily down his chest, tracing scars, muscle, skin. Connor suddenly jolts awake, fumbling blindly toward the nightstand, panic briefly flashing across his face.

“Easy,” I whisper, touching his arm gently. “It’s just me.”

He exhales roughly, eyes focusing, softening instantly. His panic fades, replaced by a possessive warmth as his arm wraps securely around me, pulling me across his chest until my body is nearly draped over him. “Jesus, Cali. You scared me.”

My lips curl into a teasing smile as I kiss along his collarbone, tracing slow, lazy circles over his chest. “Didn’t mean to.”

He lets out a low, sleepy sound—a mix between a sigh and a groan—as his fingers slide slowly down my back, tracing the curves of my body beneath the sheets. “You’re insatiable.”

“I have a lot time of self-control to make up for,” I murmur softly, my voice barely audible as my hand trails lower, teasing dangerously. I pause, hesitation threading into my voice. “Do you think…we should slow down?”

Connor freezes, the muscles beneath my fingertips tightening briefly. When he finally answers, his voice is rough, darkened by three years of longing. “Three years in prison, Calliope,” he growls softly. “Slowing down isn’t in my vocabulary anymore. Not with you.”

I bite my lip, pulse racing faster as my hand slides lower, teasing lightly over his abs, feeling his muscles tense beneath my touch. “Good,” I whisper. “Because I don’t want you to get tired of me.”

His eyes flash open suddenly, burning fiercely into mine. His fingers catch my chin roughly, forcing me to hold his gaze, deep and intense, possessive in a way that makes my stomach flip dangerously.

“If I ever say no to you, something’s seriously wrong,” he murmurs roughly, lips brushing mine. “With me—or the whole damn world.”

I laugh softly, slipping beneath the sheets and trailing kisses slowly down Connor’s perfect chest. His abs tighten under my lips, his breathing catching as I move lower, my nails lightly grazing his thighs.

He murmurs something I can’t quite hear, but the deep rasp of his voice is enough to set every nerve in my body alight.

My tongue slides along the hard length of him, teasing, savoring the way his muscles tense and his breathing quickens. He groans, deep and low, hips jerking up impatiently, silently begging for more.

I give it to him—exactly the way he craves it—slow, teasing strokes of my tongue, lips wrapping tight as I suck him deeper.

Connor’s growls vibrate straight down my spine, sending heat pooling between my thighs.

I hum softly around him, knowing the vibration will drive him wild, and he jerks beneath me, growling my name.

The covers are suddenly ripped away, cool air rushing across my flushed, heated skin.

Connor grips my hair possessively, propping himself up on one elbow, his intense eyes locking onto mine.

His gaze is dark, hungry, raw, and it makes my pulse spike dangerously high.

He tugs my hair gently, guiding my mouth, watching every flick of my tongue as his restraint shatters completely .

“Fuck, Cali,” he gasps roughly, hips jerking as he reaches his peak. My name breaks from his lips in a low, raw growl, sending a hot shiver down my spine. His release spills into my mouth, hot and perfect, and I swallow every drop, savoring him until he’s utterly spent.

Slowly, I sit back on my heels, licking my lips deliberately, savoring the lingering taste of him as I wipe the corner of my mouth. Connor stares at me, chest heaving, eyes heavy with exhaustion and lingering hunger.

I grin at him and slide off the bed, grabbing one of his discarded shirts from the bedroom floor.

Pulling it over my head, I let it settle over my body, hanging loosely over my thighs.

Behind me, the bed springs creak softly, and when I glance back, Connor’s sitting up, eyes roaming over my ass with a slow, appreciative smirk.

“You wake me up like that, and now you're walking away?” he asks, voice still rough with sleep but laced with playful accusation. “Cruel, Angel."

I turn back, rolling my eyes as I gather my messy hair into a knot on top of my head, heading toward the bathroom. “Considering you knocked me out cold by 9:00 last night, you should be thanking me for letting you sleep this long.”

His soft chuckle follows me into the bathroom. After a quick rinse and quiet laughter beneath the warm spray, we stumble back to his room, skin damp and bodies humming with lingering pleasure. But the contentment falters when Connor catches sight of the bedside clock.

“6:00 AM?” He groans dramatically, scrubbing a hand down his tired face. “On a Saturday, Cali? You're killing me.”

I smile slyly, slipping past him toward the stairs. “You'll survive.”

Downstairs, the kitchen is already bathed in dim morning light, cool and quiet.

There's still about two hours until the staff begins to arrive.

I start pulling ingredients from the fridge, determined to finally make Connor breakfast, but my efforts falter when his arms wrap around my waist, pulling me gently against him.

Warm lips brush the back of my neck, and a shiver runs through me as his hips press into mine.

“I thought I was cooking,” I murmur, breath hitching at his touch.

“You are,” he whispers, his lips brushing my ear. “I'm just helping.”

Laughing softly, I turn in his arms, wrapping mine around his neck. “At this rate, we’ll never make breakfast.”

“I'm okay with starving,” he replies quietly, his forehead pressing against mine. My smile fades slightly as reality creeps back in, bringing with it the shadow we've both been ignoring.

My smile fades, anxiety twisting quietly in my chest. “We should follow up with the case today,” I whisper, uncertainty coloring my words. “Everything’s been too calm, Connor. Like a storm’s about to break.”

Connor exhales slowly, eyes opening, and his gaze locks steadily onto mine—careful, controlled, too damn calm. “You asked for no stress this week. Remember? It’s supposed to be just us this weekend, Cali. Can’t we just…enjoy this?”

He gently releases me, turning back toward the stove to busy himself with breakfast, even though we both know I’m supposed to cook this morning, no matter how disastrous that might turn out. He’s avoiding something, steering us away from the conversation, and irritation flares sharply in my chest.

“So there is something?” I press sharply, suspicion bubbling to the surface, making my voice tight. “Something you've been keeping from me? Are you hiding this from the police too?”

Connor sighs, setting the spatula down slowly and facing me again, his eyes meeting mine with that infuriating calm that tells me he’s been bracing himself for this moment.

“The police don’t exactly trust my word, Cali.

You know that.” He pauses, choosing his next words carefully. “But if you really want to know…”

“Of course, I want to know!” I snap, frustration and worry bleeding through each word. “How long have you known this? How long have you been keeping secrets from me?”

His gaze softens, regret flickering across his face as he steps closer, hands sliding gently up my thighs, pulling me close. He stands between my legs, the warmth of his palms grounding me even as my frustration tries to spiral.

“Since you pinned me against the stairs,” he admits quietly, his voice dropping low, cautious.

My shock must show because suddenly the eggs are forgotten entirely, abandoned in the pan behind him.

His thumbs brush slow circles against my thighs, his expression turning serious, almost vulnerable.

“You told me no more stress, Calliope. And some things…” He pauses, searching my eyes like he’s trying to gauge how much I can handle.

“I just haven’t figured out how to tell you. ”

I grip his shirt tighter, needing to ground myself against the storm of emotions churning inside me.

“Connor, you’ve carried enough for this family already.

You don’t have to shield me anymore. We're supposed to share this weight—together. I’m handling the company, the house, the endless daily grind, but I need the truth from you.

No more lies, no more secrets. I can't keep fumbling around in the dark. "

Connor opens his mouth, pausing as if he’s searching for the right words.

He flips the eggs absently, and then his hand returns to my thigh, gently squeezing, steadying me again.

"I'm not keeping secrets from you, Cali.

I've saved everything I found—every file, every piece of evidence—on my computer.

You can read it yourself or let me walk you through it, but…

" He hesitates, his gaze locked onto mine, raw an d careful. "Angel, this isn’t something you can unsee. I don’t want it to ruin how you remember your dad. "

My throat tightens, my voice barely more than a whisper. "Anna said the same thing—that I shouldn't dig deeper because I wouldn’t like what I'd find. But as long as my dad didn't rape or murder anyone, I can handle whatever else comes out. He didn't deserve to die over some bad choices."

Connor’s jaw tightens slightly, but he nods, accepting my resolve. "Then we'll take breakfast upstairs. You can see it all yourself. I'll explain everything, and we'll handle whatever comes next."

I nod slowly, biting back the ache of uncertainty threatening to choke me. Connor leans forward and kisses my cheek gently, the warmth lingering. He reads me easily—he always does—and knows better than to push when I’m teetering this close to the edge.

"The sooner, the better," I finally say, forcing my voice back into that clipped, steady tone I use in the boardroom.

He chuckles softly, shaking his head as he turns back to the stove. "Stop turning me on with that bossy tone and let me finish this, Angel."

I smile despite myself, pressing my lips closed dramatically. A quiet moment passes, nothing but the sound of eggs sizzling filling the space between us, until Connor clears his throat softly, his back still turned.

"There are things," he begins quietly, his voice hesitant, cautious, "about my time in prison I haven't told you—or anyone. Things I haven't figured out how to say."

I hold my breath, my heart suddenly heavy, nerves tightening my stomach. I don't speak, letting him gather his courage, letting him find words he’s clearly desperate to release. Finally, he looks up, emerald eyes meeting mine, vulnerable in a way that twists my chest painfully .

"I don't want the person I became in there to scare you away," he murmurs softly, and something inside me breaks.

I close the distance between us, sliding my arms around him, fingers tracing slowly under his shirt, carefully along the scars lining his back. "Connor," I whisper, fiercely holding his gaze, "there’s nothing about you that could scare me away. Not anymore."

His expression softens, and he tilts my chin gently, pressing his lips against mine—slow, deep, tender—letting the rest of his secrets stay unspoken for now. That's okay. I'll wait until he's ready to let them spill out, and then I'll kiss away every single one.

Someday soon, reality will come crashing through these carefully built walls.

But until then, I’m holding onto Connor. Onto this dangerous, reckless happiness.

Even if it breaks me later.