Page 60 of Possessive Mr. Pen

He grits his teeth and stops in front of me.

“That’s different,” he snarls.

I lift a brow in challenge.

“How so?How are you any different from Destiny or Momo or Aisha?You can’t accept them and not her.”

After a moment of staring, he grabs my thighs and yanks them apart as he drops to his knees between them.

“Fucking hell, you’re gorgeous when you ride into battle.”He skims his hands higher on my thighs and squeezes.His thumbs tease centimeters away from where I want him most.“My fucking gorgeous gladiator goddess.”

I give in to temptation and spear my fingers into his hair.We both groan at the sensuality of the connection.

“You sure are elegant for a villain,” I murmur.

“I’m beginning to wonder if you’ve corrupted me to the good side,” he mock sneers.

He wedges himself deeper between my legs.I squeeze my knees together until he winces.

After learning of Connor’s alternate identity and being trapped in a vivid replay of my mother’s murder and my sister’s wailing, I don’t trust myself enough for intimacy with anyone, much less him.I drop my hand to the armrest but mourn the loss of the silky strands of his hair between my fingers.

“Are we in agreement over Destiny?”I ask.

“We are,” he growls.

“Is there anything else we need to discuss tonight?I’m exhausted,” I say.

He sighs and wraps his arms around my waist, squeezing my hips with his hands along the way, and rests the side of his face against my chest.

“We’re done.Let’s go to bed,” he murmurs.

His lips nuzzle perilously close to my nipple.

“Separate beds in separate rooms,” I scold.

“No.Same room.I won’t let you out of my sight after what happened today,” he declares.

Too tired to fight, I accept his terms and shoo him away.To my surprise, he rises, but before I can join him, he reaches behind my back and under my legs and lifts me to his chest.I cling to his collar and grit my teeth as he walks through the townhouse, glaring at him every step of the way but keeping my mouth shut so we don’t alarm my sisters.

He drops me off in the master bathroom, grabs a few items from the closet, sneaks a kiss to my temple, and disappears into the hallway.I wait until the sound of the downstairs bathroom door closing filters up through the house before I shut the door and slog through my evening routine.

When I finish, Connor waits beside the bed with the corner of the blankets lifted in his fist.He looks impossibly delicious shirtless with baggy grey sweatpants slung low on his hips.If not for the bruising covering his torso and the bandage on his shoulder, he could totally be a model with his muscular frame and veiny arms.

The couch in the sitting area already has a sheet draped over it, a pillow in a pillowcase, and a small stack of folded blankets at the other end.

I step toward the bed but hesitate before slipping between the sheets.

My big, bad bosshole tries his best to aim pleading eyes at me, but the demand lurking in them ruins the effect.

“Let me hold you in my arms tonight.I can control myself,” he vows.

“Well I can’t, so I’ll sleep on the couch.”

I stride across the room and flop onto the couch in the lounge area.

Firm arms scoop me up.I gasp and flail, but Connor cradles me to his chest and spins on his heel.

“Be still or I might drop you,” he warns.