Page 11 of The Marriage Compromise
I'd faced down corporate raiders, hostile takeovers, and board revolts without flinching. I'd rebuilt my life after losing the use of my legs through sheer force of will. I prided myself on my self-control, my discipline, my ability to master any situation.
But in that moment, with Connor's lips on mine and his hands cradling my face with unexpected gentleness, I found myself utterly defenseless.
My hands moved from his shoulders to his back, no longer restraining but holding, supporting, drawing him closer despite every logical argument against it. The kiss deepened, and with it, my resistance crumbled entirely.
Our bodies pressed together in the dimly lit presidential suite, the expensive Egyptian cotton sheets tangling around us. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt the weight of another person against me like this—warm, solid, and insistent.
The kiss had unlocked something primal in me, something I'd convinced myself had died in that car crash three years ago. Connor's hands roamed my chest with increasing confidence,leaving trails of fire across skin that had known only clinical touches for too long.
This was madness. Complete, utter madness. And yet I couldn't bring myself to stop it.
When Connor finally broke the kiss, his eyes were glazed but determined. He sat back on my lap, his weight pressing against my now-undeniable erection, and began unbuttoning his own shirt with clumsy urgency.
"Let me help you," I said, reaching for his hands.
"No," he insisted, brushing my fingers away. "I want to do this. I want you to see me."
There was something vulnerable in the declaration that silenced any protest I might have made. I let my hands fall to my sides and watched as he fumbled with the buttons, his drug-affected coordination making the simple task a challenge.
Despite his clumsiness, there was an undeniable eroticism to his determination—to the flush spreading across his cheeks, to the intensity of his focus.
When he finally managed to open his shirt, he shrugged it off with a little shimmy that should have been comical but somehow wasn't. The lamplight caught the contours of his torso, highlighting the lean muscle of his chest and abdomen.
He wasn't bulky like the men I'd favored before my accident—he was more wiry, with the natural athleticism of youth rather than the sculpted definition of a gym devotee.
"Beautiful," I murmured, the word escaping before I could censor it.
A pleased smile curved his lips. "You think so?"
"Yes." There seemed little point in denying it now.
His hands moved to his belt next, fingers struggling with the buckle. I watched, transfixed, as he undid it with painstaking concentration, then moved on to the button of his pants.
Each inch of skin he revealed seemed to glow in the soft lamplight, flushed with both the drug in his system and growing arousal.
When he finally stood to push his pants and underwear down in one motion, I held my breath. His naked form was revealed in stages—first the narrow hips, then the strong thighs, and finally his erection, proudly jutting forward.
He kicked the clothing aside and stood before me, completely naked and seemingly unbothered by his vulnerability.
I'd seen attractive men before. I'd been with attractive men before. But something about Connor's unselfconscious nudity, about the trust implicit in his exposure, struck me as uniquely beautiful. Perhaps it was the contrast with my own careful guardedness, the way I'd hidden my body from desire since the accident.
"Your turn," he said, reaching for the waistband of my pajama bottoms.
I caught his wrists, a moment of panic surfacing. "Connor, wait—"
"Let me take care of you," he pleaded, his words still slightly slurred but his eyes surprisingly clear. He guided my hands to his bare hips, placing my palms against the warm skin there. "Please, Julian."
The sound of my name on his lips sent an unexpected surge of heat through me. How strange that such a small intimacy could affect me so profoundly after everything else that had already passed between us.
"You don't understand," I said, my voice rough with conflicting emotions. "My body isn't... I haven't been able to..."
"You are now," he pointed out, glancing pointedly at the visible evidence of my arousal. "Let me see all of you."
Before I could formulate another protest, Connor captured my mouth in another kiss. This one was deeper, more urgentthan before. His tongue sought mine in a dance of unexpected passion that drove coherent thought from my mind.
His naked body pressed against my partially clothed form, the contrast in our states of undress adding to the eroticism of the moment.
My final resistance shattered under the assault of sensation. I surrendered to the moment, to the insistent press of his lips, to the heat of his skin under my palms.