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He spreads my legs and finds my thong, slipping it aside so he can push a finger into my wet, throbbing core. I moan low in my throat at his invasion, and he smiles above me.
‘So you used to date that guy?’
And though his face remains the same, his eyes glitter beyond the façade and I realise he does care after all. He was faking his complacence; I’m unreasonably pleased.
I push up on my elbows, my mind spinning as he moves his finger in small circles, his thumb finding my clit and brushing over it so that I can only whimper in agreement.
‘And you fucked him?’
I tilt my head back as pleasure spreads through me like a tidal wave. It starts low in my abdomen and pulses to all my extremities, making me quiver with a thick, throbbing need.
I can barely nod, but I move my head just enough to convey agreement.
He moves his fingers away then, just so that he can slide my thong down my legs. I sit up higher but he brings his mouth to me and I am lost once more as his tongue decimates what little is left of my control, my brainpower.
I subjugate myself completely to the power he wields and, in doing so, am aware of my own strength. He is as desperate for me as I am for him. That is a heady knowledge to have.
I am so close to coming. He must feel that, he must know, which makes his betrayal all the greater when he pulls away and brings his fully clothed body over mine. The weight of him on me is beautiful, but I want more. I need more.
‘Was it serious?’
I am panting for breath. ‘I don’t want to talk about Pietro right now.’
‘Ah. But you will.’ His smile is arrogant. ‘Answer my questions and I’ll reward you.’
My stomach flops. I shake my head. ‘Why?’
‘I’m curious,’ he says with a shrug. He props himself on his side next to me, his eyes staring at me almost dispassionately. ‘So? Was it?’
‘Serious?’ I mutter, annoyed as heck and not bothering to conceal it. ‘Yes. It was.’
The glittering in his eyes intensifies. ‘And he’s still in love with you.’
I’m almost certain that’s the case but somehow, admitting that here, to Connor, feels like a betrayal. To Pietro and what we were and, somehow, to what Connor and I share as well.
‘It’s complicated,’ I say again, skirting the issue. ‘Our families would love us to get back together. They always thought we’d get married. They were shocked when we split.’
‘So they invite him to your family lunches in the hope love blossoms,’ he prompts, the teasing smile annoying me. Because he’s not jealous, after all. He’s just interested in that way that his fierce intellect demands. Connor has to lift every rock and peer under it, just because there might be something crawling around. He wants to know about Pietro because of his fierce curiosity, not because he particularly cares.
I place my hand on my stomach and run it lower, defiance in my eyes as I touch myself. I have the satisfaction of seeing his surprise and, yes, most definitely his awareness, but then his hand catches mine and lifts it back to my side.
‘Allow me.’ The throaty request turns me to jelly. He runs his finger over me and I moan. Heat scorches my blood. ‘He drives you home because he’s still in love with you?’
‘Damn it, Connor,’ I snap, reaching for his hand and pushing it away. I stand up and I can tell he didn’t expect that. I stare at him, my hands on my hips, though my anger is possibly slightly diminished by the way my body won’t stop shaking. ‘This isn’t a game. Pietro is probably still in love with me, yes. And he’s a nice guy, and I feel really awful about the fact I don’t love him back, and I’m very careful not to appear that I’m leading him on, and I feel like a complete bitch that I’m the one who doesn’t want it. That I’m the one who’s letting him, my parents and his parents down because I won’t just settle for the very nice, very lukewarm, very safe relationship we had.’
He’s staring at me in a way that would usually arrest my breath in my throat but I’m too annoyed to properly notice.
‘So you’ll forgive me if I don’t want to talk about Pietro while we’re in bed. It’s disrespectful and he deserves better than that.’
‘Jesus.’ Connor sits up straight, his jaw squared as he watches me. My tirade hangs in the air as a storm cloud would, threatening to break, and then he reaches for me.
He stands up then and puts his arms around my waist, holding me to his body. ‘I’m sorry.’ It’s a quietly worded admission. ‘You’re right. That was a bullshit thing to do.’
‘Yeah.’ His apology has taken some of the sting out of my anger but I’m still pissed off. ‘I mean, come on, Connor. We’ve both got a past. I don’t want to drag anyone else into this.’ I step out of his arms and reach for the hem of my dress, lifting it up over my head and tossing it onto a chair. He watches my clothes sail through the air then faces me again.
‘Nor do I.’ He shakes his head. ‘I’m sorry.’
I can’t look away. His eyes are burning into me and I feel his apology like a whisper across my skin and I know he means it, but also I’m not sure I care now. I can hardly remember what I was so annoyed about a moment ago.
