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“Let’s get to work,” I remind us both, knowing if we don’t stay focused we’ll lose more than Valentine. We’ll lose precious time in trying to find him if we yield to our instincts.
“You’re right,” Conor says, frowning, “But once we’ve made some progress… I plan to do what I should’ve done the minute I laid eyes on you, Rachel Beckett,” he cautions me, grinning for a brief moment before slipping into what I guess is his professional mode.
The mindset he needs to get things done without letting his emotions get the better of him.
“There’s another laptop in my office and a phone with multiple lines out. We can split up and start calling local vets, shelters, anyone and anywhere we can start to contact. Let them know he’s missing.”
I nod with encouragement, Conor makes everything sound like it’s already a success before it’s even happened.
And I have to admit, I am still kind of distracted by his earlier remark about what he has planned for me, sorry Valentine, but you’re not the only one who’s crazy about the man.
In what feels like my first real meaningful thing with Conor, outside of what went on in my pants, we both set to work and in no time at all, we have a system going.
We search online, and then call up one location each, trying to find Valentine for one but also giving his description in case he does turn up.
“He’s microchipped, sure,” I hear Conor repeat to someone for the twentieth time, just like I’ve been doing.
“… Because I’m doing what anyone would do, I’m calling to see if you have my dog or if anyone’s found him,” he adds with a growing frustration I don’t think either of us can hide anymore.
Admittedly, trying to phone around vets, shelters, and the city’s animal control for help, asking about a dog that’s been missing for less than a few hours isn’t getting anywhere that’s friendly or even sympathetic.
After what feels like hours and the end of our local list search, we both slide back in our seats exhausted.
“I’m sorry, Conor,” I tell him and I mean it. I really hoped we would have gotten somewhere after all that.
He creases a smile and glancing out the window at the weather he shrugs.
“I won’t give up on him, Rachel. I know he’s up to something if he’s gone for this long and hasn’t come home.”
I could make a joke about Valentine being out, rounding up another girl for Conor. But that’s not funny. Not to me and definitely not for Conor.
“He’s built for this weather, so I’m telling myself all we can do is sit and wait. If we hear something, we’ll hear it soon enough,” Conor reasons aloud, standing up and starting to pace.
All the tell-tale signs of a man who is about as far from accepting the situation as it is as you could get.
Don’t blame him though.
I feel awful too, wish there was more I could do for him right now.
“C’mere,” he says, cocking his brow and broadcasting the idea into my mind. Something I know could help both of us right now.
I feel myself gasp like he’s pulling the breath right out of me without even touching me. Those dark eyes saying it all with one look.
What he wants to do to me, just like he promised.
Like iron filings to a strong magnet, I’m drawn to him. Helpless once I’m in his arms again.
Before he kisses me, he dispels any doubts I might have lurking. Evaporating the guilt I feel about what I want when we should be worrying about Valentine.
“I love you, Rachel. I should never have let you go in the first place, but I can’t keep you unless you want to be here,” he says in a deep, sultry voice that makes my knees feel like they’ll giving out.
“I want you to stay here, with me now. Mine. The two of us. You won’t have to worry about or want for anything, I promise,” he adds, and I feel my head nodding as I look up at him, my hands pressed flat against his muscular chest as I feel it flex when he pulls me closer.
His other hardness pressing right into my belly through my sweater, making both of us moan softly.
I still have so much I want to ask, things of my own I want to tell him. But he only has one question for me as I feel my heart starting to pound against my ribs in the best possible way.
“Tell me you want this,” he says as he guides my hand to his front. The thick, hard line of his cock making my hand feel tiny by comparison.
“Tell me you’ll be mine and you want to give yourself to me now. Say it,” he demands softly and I hear myself whimpering as a thick line of moist flashes across my pussy, aching for him to be inside me.
