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“You’re mine,” he murmured beneath his breath as he lowered his head, lips a breath away. “Never his.”
I inhaled sharply just before his mouth claimed mine.
I surrendered. There was no other way to describe it because he did that to me. I always surrendered to him.
But it was real. It was him and within the bruising kiss there was purity and beauty.
“Fuck, baby.” His lips vibrated against mine.
I needed more. I had to have all of him. His hand cupped the back of my neck and fingers bunched in my hair.
“God, Connor.”
He sat up on his knees, undid his jeans and tugged them off, taking his boxer briefs with them. Ripping his T-shirt off over his head, he tossed it aside.
My gaze trailed down his muscled chest to his cock. It was thick and hard and ready for me. It jerked under my stare and my eyes flew back to his eyes.
Connor watched me. A slow half grin formed and my heart stopped at the magnificence of it. I missed that look. The way it captivated me in its brilliance and warmed me inside. How it reached every part of me like I was lying naked in the sun, my skin damp after soaking in a cool refreshing lazy river. All of it was in his smile.
The grin I’d captured with my camera the day after our picnic in his bedroom. We lay on the hood of the Humvee, him tickling me as I attempted to take a picture of us. It was off center and candid, with half my face covered in my windblown hair, my head tilted back with laughter. His grin was broad and his magnetic blue eyes blazed with playfulness.
It was the first picture I’d seen on Carlos’s coffee table. Lying on top of all the others. It was also the one Connor held up to the lighter, the orange flickering flame quickly eating up his grin.
Carlos. Vault. They burned away Connor’s grin.
“It’s over. Stop thinking,” Connor murmured against my throat as he trailed kisses down to my collarbone.
“What Carlos did to you—”
His head jerked up. “Shut the fuck up,” he growled.
My breath hitched and I stilled beneath him.
“You don’t say his name—Ever.” His eyes drove into me. “Say it.”
“I don’t say his name.”
“Again,” he ordered.
“Connor…” His eyes narrowed and I quickly said, “We don’t talk about him ever. I will never say his name again.”
He stared at me a second, his body thrumming with tension. Then he sprang from the bed, spun and stalked from the room.
Oh, God, what just happened?
I leapt out of bed and made it to the hallway just as he jogged down the stairs and disappeared around the corner toward the back of the house. I heard a door slam. But it wasn’t the outside door. It was the door to the downstairs bathroom.
The pipes jerked and grumbled as the water turned on.
I walked down the hallway, down the stairs, then around the corner until I stood outside the bathroom.
The water rushing through the pipes was the shower.
I wasn’t sure if what I was about to do was a good idea or not, but I did it anyway. I turned the doorknob.
It was unlocked. I walked inside, closed the door behind me so the heat wouldn’t escape and leaned against it.
He wasn’t in the shower. He had his hands curled around the edge of the countertop with his head bowed, hair hanging in front of his face, body tense.
“Get the fuck out,” he said without looking at me.
I didn’t move.
“Jesus. Get the hell out of here, Catalina.” By the strained tone, he was having trouble keeping his anger contained.
He never called me Catalina except in Colombia. “No.” My heart was going to leap through my chest at any second and my knees were going to give out, but I wasn’t leaving. I gripped the door handle with both hands behind my back.
“So fuckin’ stupid,” he murmured.
I was uncertain if he was talking about me being here and refusing to leave, or something else. It didn’t matter. I wasn’t leaving unless he made me leave, which had a good possibility of happening.
But I never ran from fear. I think that was one of the reasons Carlos was drawn to me. It didn’t mean I was always brave when faced with something that terrified me. I just didn’t run.
Well, except once and it had been from Connor.
I released the door handle.
He didn’t move.
Then I walked up behind him and placed my hands on his shoulders. He flinched but didn’t move away or say anything. Then I moved into him and rested my cheek on his back, hands sliding down his arms to settle in the crook of his elbows.
His breathing was heavy. Heartbeat erratic. Body tense.
I remained quiet. I think he needed the silence. I wasn’t sure why he turned on the shower, but hearing the rhythmic sound was calming.
