Page 23 of Where We Bloom (The Blackwells of Montana #3)

Chapter Eleven

BILLIE

M iller turns onto the driveway leading to Connor’s house. When we go around the bend and the sprawling mansion comes into view, my jaw drops.

I didn’t even know this house existed out here. It’s what I would call rustic but still fancy. If you took a cute little rustic cabin, the kind you might find in a Hallmark Christmas movie, and fed it steroids for about ten years, this is what you’d get.

I bet it’s stunning all dressed up for the holidays.

“Wow,” I mutter, taking it all in as Miller stops in front of the house in the circular driveway.

“You’ve been here before,” Connor reminds me.

“But I didn’t see it,” I reply and turn to him. “I was too busy trying not to die to check out your cozy mountain getaway.”

He smirks, but his eyes are hard as he reaches out to drag his finger down my cheek.

“Let’s make happier memories here, bumble.”

Connor pushes out of the SUV, and rather than walk around to open my door, he simply reaches in, pulls me across the seat, and helps me to my feet.

“Thanks, Miller,” he says as he takes my hand and leads me toward the door.

I glance back over my shoulder and give Miller a grin and a wave, and then we’re inside, and I can’t help but say, “Wow,” again.

“These windows,” I murmur, walking through the great room to stand at a wall of windows with a killer view of the mountains.

The ceiling in here has to be thirty feet tall, and the furniture is soft brown leather with area rugs in burnt orange and brown.

“I hope you put a ridiculously huge Christmas tree right here.”

I plant my feet in the center of the windows and look up, raising my arms over my head as if I’m the tree.

“And tons of garland along that railing.” I point up to the second floor, where a catwalk must connect the house’s two wings. God, those wrought-iron railings are gorgeous.

When I look over at Connor, he’s watching me with his hands in his pockets, leaning against the wall.

He’s in navy slacks and a light blue button-down.

His sleeves are rolled almost to his elbows, and his top two buttons are undone.

His dark hair is tousled, likely from pushing his hands through it throughout the day.

He’s so fucking handsome. So tall and broad and muscular. He could give Henry Cavill a run for his money, and that’s saying a lot .

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be bossy about holiday decor. It’s just really the perfect spot for a tree.”

“I’ll take it under advisement.” His lips pull up at the sides, the way they do when I amuse him.

I’ve learned that full smiles from this man are rare, earned, and spectacular.

He pulls one hand out of his pocket and holds it out for me.

Without hesitation, I cross to him and slide my palm against his, loving the way his warm hand engulfs my own. “Do you want a tour then, angel?”

“Sure, I’ll take a tour.”

He kisses my forehead—forehead kisses are not overrated.

If anything, they’re underrated and should be doled out more often—and then leads me through the house.

The kitchen is any chef’s dream. I’m not a chef, but if I were, I’d want to cook in there all day.

Again, I can picture myself in there with my mom and Birdie and my girls baking holiday cookies, but I press my lips together, keeping that thought to myself.

“This is my home office,” he says, pointing at an open doorway as we walk down the hall, and I peek in to see a massive desk with both a laptop and a desktop computer, two possibly thirty-four-inch monitors, a wall of books, and more windows with a view of the mountains.

“There are three guest bedrooms and bathrooms on this floor.”

With that, he leads me to the stairs and shows me more guest rooms, a fully equipped home gym—I knew he worked out—and another office that looks like it’s never used, given the empty desktop.

On the opposite side of the catwalk is the primary suite, and it takes up the entire second level of this side of the house.

“I remember glimpses of this room,” I murmur as I walk through and drag my hand over the cream comforter. The windows are framed with pretty beige drapes. A closet the size of my entire house makes me salivate. How did I miss that last time? Even drugged, I should have noticed my dream closet.

Attached is another lounging space with a deep-cushioned sofa, a television, and more bookshelves.

“You’re a bookworm,” I say, turning to Connor in surprise.

“I like to read,” he replies, pushing his glasses up his nose, and it makes me grin.

“We have something in common.”

“We have plenty in common, bumble.”

My eyes skim over the titles. It seems my Irishman enjoys thrillers and fantasy, which shouldn’t surprise me, but if I’m being honest, it really does.

“You read Nalini Singh?”

“I do. Have you?”

“Have I? Oh my God, she’s fucking brilliant.”

“Come on, let’s complete this tour, and we can talk books later.”

I press my lips together—holy shit, reader Connor just totally upped the sexy factor here—and follow him to the bathroom, which is more beautiful than I remember.

The shower is big enough for a party of six, with glass walls and a beautiful mosaic that mirrors the mountains outside.

The double vanity is marble, and there’s a soaking tub that’s … full.

“Did you leave the water in the tub when you left today?” I ask him. “With bubbles?”

“I’ve never used this tub,” he says with a half smile, pulling me against him, my back to his front. He brushes my hair to the side and kisses my neck, making my nipples pucker and my core tighten.

“Then how?”

“I have staff here,” he murmurs. “And I messaged ahead. I want you to get in this tub and soak for a bit. Do you want wine?”

“No, thank you. No alcohol ever again. At least, not for a good while.”

He sighs against me and peppers two more kisses on my skin. “I’ll get you something else, then. Get comfortable, angel.”

After pulling away, he walks out of the room, closing the door behind him, and I stare at the tub. He had someone fill it, just for me? How many people work here? Why does one person need staff ?

“Billionaires,” I mutter as I carefully take off my Dior dress and hang it on the hook behind the door.

I remove my matching pink bra and panties, then find a hair tie in my handbag, which I’m glad I hadn’t set down anywhere else in the house.

After securing my hair up, I slip into the steaming water and sigh as it envelops me.

Oh holy hell. This is luxurious.

Maybe I need to invest in a hot tub. Maybe a good soak each night would help me sleep better .

I’m contemplating that when the door opens, and Connor returns carrying a cup of tea, which he sets on a skinny table next to the tub.

“Was it still hot enough?” he asks.

“They must have filled this thing with boiling water because it’s still really hot. Are you getting in with me?”

He bends over and kisses me, so tenderly, so softly, it makes my toes curl. With my head back, his finger glides between my collarbone and up my throat to my lips.

I can’t wait to get my hands on this man.

“No. I’m going to let you relax for a while longer, then I’ll dry you off and put you to bed.”

I lift an eyebrow. “I don’t have a watch on me, but I don’t think it’s even nine yet.”

“Those are the plans. Drink your tea.”

“Bossy, aren’t you?”

“You have no idea.”

He saunters out of the bathroom, and I decide to enjoy this hot water, and the hot tea he brought me.

When the tea is gone, the bubbles have popped to nothing, and the water is tepid, Connor returns with an enormous, fluffy green towel and offers me his hand to help me stand.

When I’m out of the water, he wraps me in that towel and pulls me against him. Hugging me close, he rubs his hands up and down my back and kisses my head.

Never, not once in all of my life, have I felt as sexy, as secure, as safe as I do when Connor holds me.

“You changed,” I mutter against his gray T-shirt. He’s in matching sweatpants, and it looks like he took a shower because his hair is still damp. “Did you shower?”

“Aye. I used a guest room. I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Yeah, because lounging in that fancy tub and watching you shower ten feet away from me would have been too great a burden to bear.”

“I like it when you’re sassy,” he says before leading me out of the bathroom to the bedroom. The bed’s been turned down, the lights are dim, and I’m … sleepy.

I have the sexiest man alive right here , and all I want to do is curl up around him and sleep.

Am I broken? Because the sex is top-notch, and I want that, too. I want lots of it.

But fuck, I’m so tired.

“Come on, bumble.” He drops my towel, then reaches for another of his shirts and slips it over my head. He doesn’t touch my skin. He doesn’t even let his eyes drop below my chin.

“Question.”

He raises an eyebrow, and I don’t climb into bed quite yet because I want to ask this while I’m standing.

“It used to be that you couldn’t keep your hands off me, and now that we’re spending time together, it’s the opposite. Are we not?—”

He frames my face in his hands, and he crushes his mouth to mine, gripping me like he never wants to let me go as he devours me. I have no choice but to open my mouth and let him in. I moan against him as he ends our kiss. Still cupping my face, he drags his thumb over my lower lip.

“I want you more than I want to breathe,” he says, his voice rough.

“Don’t ever question that. Keeping my hands to myself has been fucking torture, but you’re not okay.

You’re exhausted, and I’m not an arsehole.

I want more than a quick fuck to get my dick wet so you can finally sleep.

No, baby. You deserve so much more than that.

You deserve to have me worshipping you for hours when you’re awake and alert enough to enjoy every bloody moment of it. ”

Shaking his head, he guides me into bed, then snuggles around me as I rest my head on his chest.

“You’re going to sleep, and when you wake up, I’ll make up for all our lost time. I’m going to consume every mouthwatering inch of you.”

I grin and wrap my arm around his abdomen, toss my leg over his, and sigh contentedly as I burrow against him. There is nothing like this, right here, with this man.

“That sounds really nice.”

He chuckles, the sound vibrating under my ear. “It’s going to be better than nice. ”

“I believe it.” I can’t stop the yawn that comes, and he drags his hand down my back. “Do you have to work tomorrow?”

“I told everyone to fuck off for tomorrow.”

I lift my head and stare at him. “You took yesterday off, too.”

“Aye. I didn’t say they were happy about it.”

“Connor, you don’t have to do that. If you need to work, work.”

“I need to spend the day with you,” he replies, tucking me under his chin once more. “We may not leave this bed.”

“In that case, yes, you’re taking the day off.”

There’s more chuckling beneath my head. “It’s glad I am that you approve.”