Dropping to a crouch, Connor grabs the box. Within seconds, he has his pocketknife out and open. He slices through the tape on this package, then sets it on the floor, nudging it toward me.
I give him a curious look.
He nods. “Go on. That’s yours, too, Haven, love.”
Love? No. Not ‘love’.
Just Haven.
THIRTEEN
SURGERY
HAVEN
Ducking my head, I focus on opening the box. I take out the packing paper. Scraps of fabric in all colors are nestled on the top, resting over a row of plastic-wrapped packages beneath it.
Panties and bras. All my size, and I try not to think abouthowConnor knows my size well enough to place an online order for this. That’s what he did, though. I see a packing slip. He ordered these for me instead of cleaning out my drawer in the apartment.
I glance up at him, a question written on my face.
He shrugs. “I didn’t think you’d want Bas going through your panty drawer, so I picked some out myself.”
Oh. He’s right. I guess it gives me the shivers, thinking about the playboy Heir going through my underwear and adding them to the duffel bag. Then again, it also has me trembling slightly to know that Connor went on his phone or his laptop, picked out all of this, and ordered it for me in particular...
While I stare at the contents of the box, Connor moves even closer. Suddenly, he’s right next to me, his breath warm on my ear.
“To be completely honest,” he murmurs softly, “I didn’t want him going through it, either. From now on, the only one who gets to know what your underwear looks like is me, querida.” Then, before I can react at all, Connor dips his hand inside the open box, plucking out a pair of white panties with red hearts on it. He drops them in my lap. “For you, Haven.”
And let him pick my panties out for me? Let him think that everything he’s done is okay?
Let him get away with it?
I pick up the panties, twisting them around my fingers. Then, with a determined expression, I pretend they’re a slingshot and let them fly.
The material hits the side of the counter in the kitchenette before landing with a softthwapon the floor.
Connor goes still.
Five days ago, I would’ve thought he was going to retaliate. I’d expect pain, and I’d curl up in a ball before he could hit me. I would’ve confused him for Mickey or Cam or Noah, but now… now I know better.
This is Connor, and he’s not going to hit me.
What he does, though? In a million different ways, it’sworse.
He steals a quick kiss, dropping it to the side of my head before he pushes himself up to his feet. Crossing the room in a handful of strides, he swoops down, picking up the panties.
As he shows them to me, his lips curl. It’s a grin. Connor often grins, but this one? It has a wicked edge that has my heart thumping wildly in my chest.
He fists my underwear. “They’re mine now.”
I snort.
The notebook is on the coffee table where I left it. I grab it, flipping open to a new page. With the pen, I quickly write:
Cute, but I don’t think they’ll fit you
I hold up the page.
