Page 16 of The Marriage Compromise

Instead, I kept watch as Connor slept, my mind cycling through the implications of what had happened between us, through the possibilities that had opened where before there had been only certainty and limitation.

For the first time in three years, my future felt unwritten—terrifying in its uncertainty, yet somehow exhilarating in its potential.

Chapter Three

~ Connor ~

I woke to sunlight warming my face and the feel of sheets so soft they had to be illegal in at least three states.

My head throbbed with the remnants of whatever drug my mother had slipped me, but the memories were starting to filter back—running through hotel corridors, hiding from Harris, and then...him, the man who had protected me.

The man whose bed I was currently occupying.

Great job, Connor, one drink and you're in a stranger's bed.

Mom would be so proud.

I blinked against the brightness, slowly taking in my surroundings. Floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a breathtaking city view that people probably paid extra for.

The suite was massive, with sleek furniture that screamed money and taste. Nothing like my cramped apartment with its secondhand IKEA rejects and milk-crate bookshelves.

The memories hit me in waves—urgent hands, heated kisses, whispered encouragements. My face flushed hot as fragments of our night together crystallized in my mind.

I remembered straddling him, remembered his hesitation turning to hunger, remembered the unexpected passion that had erupted between us.

Oh God. I had sex with a complete stranger while drugged out of my mind.

And not just any stranger. A gorgeous, successful, clearly wealthy stranger who had hidden me from the people trying to sell me off like some piece of property.

"You're awake."

The deep voice startled me, and I jerked upright, clutching the sheet to my chest like some Victorian maiden protecting her virtue.

About twelve hours too late for that.

He sat in a wheelchair by the window, already dressed in what had to be a custom-tailored shirt and pants, watching me with those intense dark eyes that had captivated me even through my drug haze.

Julian Montgomery. That was his name. It came back to me now, along with other, more intimate details that made my cheeks burn hotter.

"Yeah, I..." My voice cracked embarrassingly, and I cleared my throat. "I'm awake."

Brilliant conversation starter, Matthews.

Julian's gaze was steady, assessing. "How much do you remember from last night?"

I swallowed hard. "More than I probably should, less than I'd like to." I ran a hand through my hair, wincing at how tangled it felt. "I remember you protecting me. I remember...us. And I remember promising to take responsibility for you, though I'm still a little fuzzy on why I thought you needed taking care of."

The corner of his mouth quirked up, not quite a smile but close. "You seemed quite convinced that I needed your assistance."

"Right." I nodded, then stopped when it made my head throb. "That. I said that, didn't I?"

"You did." Julian wheeled closer to the bed, his movements confident and practiced. "Rather insistently, in fact."

I groaned, covering my face with my hands. "I'm so sorry. I don't normally break into hotel rooms and make ridiculous promises to strangers. Or, you know, climb into their beds."

"I gathered as much." There was a hint of amusement in his voice now. "You were quite obviously drugged."

"Courtesy of my loving mother," I muttered, dropping my hands to my lap. "Still trying to wrap my head around that one."