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I’m about to lean up for a kiss when he squeezes my waist and lets me go.
Connor backs up a few steps, keeping me locked in his gaze, then he gets in his car and pulls out. I’m left alone in the middle of the lawn with Constantine.
“Come on, Con,” I call, going to grab the grocery bag from the hood of my car.
He trots after me, panting happily as we go inside.
Later that night, I’m wrestling with myself, chewing my lips raw. A restlessness has settled and even baking for hours into the night didn’t help me calm down.
The thing I need I don’t want to do by myself.
“This is a bad idea,” I mumble, staring down my phone as I pace my room. “Bad, bad idea.”
My favorite kind, Connor’s voice echoes in my head.
Blowing out a breath, I pick up my phone and do what I’ve been arguing with myself about all night—I text him. The contact no longer says Wyatt with wave emojis. Now it’s updated with Connor’s name bracketed by black heart and crown emojis.
The black-hearted king of secrets.
My secrets.
Thea: Hi. Are you up?
The response is immediate, sending my stomach into a wobbly flip of nerves. He doesn’t bother with words, just sends a photo of himself, shirtless and sprawled in bed. I can see the edge of his lazy smirk. Just like the first time.
Licking my lips, I take a pic. My curls frame my face and I’m wearing a white bodysuit with illustrated peaches on it. On the backside it reads peachy keen across the butt. Maisy saw it when we were shopping and squealed, insisting I get it because it made my ass look amazing. Into the contraband box it went. Until now.
My heart skips a beat as soon as I send it.
Connor: Fucking hell, sunshine. I want you so much.
A nervous laugh escapes me. There’s nothing like this, the way he makes me feel. A thrilling buzz travels across my skin as I settle on the armchair by the window, so I can peek at his across the way. Not only are the lights on, but I’m throwing caution to the wind. It’s daring, being out of my bed.
I’m home alone and an aching need burns in my core.
Thea: What do you want me to do?
Connor: Touch yourself. Slide those fingers over your tits and down between your legs.
My breath punches out of me as I follow his command, stroking over my pussy. Sinking my teeth in my lip, I hook a leg over the floral-print arm and slip my fingers beneath the bodysuit. I’m soaking them already, feeling so turned on.
Connor: You wet for me?
Typing one-handed is always hard, but I manage.
Thea: Yes.
Connor: Mm. Slide one inside. I’m going to suck your finger clean and taste you.
I tip my head back, eyes fluttering shut as I work my index finger in slowly. My hips rock as I push deeper and pull it out, swirling wetness over my throbbing clit. Turning my head to the side, I see a shadow filling Connor’s window. My breath hitches and my whole body pulses.
Instead of a text message, my phone vibrates and Connor’s name fills my screen with a FaceTime call. We never got that far before he revealed himself. The closest we came were the Boomerang clips and voice texts.
“Oh my god,” I whisper, fumbling with my phone. “Shit.”
I answer.
Connor’s face appears on my screen as the video connects. When he sees me sprawled in my chair he pushes out a breath. “Fuck, baby. Look at you. Eyes all bright and hungry.”
