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“What do you mean men like Conor?”
“Conor is rich, powerful, dangerous. The cute little innocent act might be what he’s interested in right now, nonetheless it won’t hold his attention indefinitely.”
I arch a brow, staring at her in confusion. Conor is rich and powerful, yes, but dangerous? Hell no. He’s been nothing but sweet and adoring to me. Yes, he’s domineering and rough in the bedroom, however that’s what I like about him. What woman doesn’t want a man who will fuck her like a stallion in the bedroom, then open doors for her when they’re in public?
She peers over my shoulder before leaning in to whisper, “Enjoy it while you can, honey. It’ll be nothing but a memory before you know it.”
With that parting statement, she slinks away from the table, and a moment later, Conor reclaims his seat.
“Sorry about that,” he apologizes. “Work.”
“It’s fine,” I choke out, my mind still on the bizarre conversation with the strange model.
The rest of the meal goes by without incident, and as we stroll along the waterfront, I ask, “What are three words you’d use to describe yourself?”
He glances down at me while he thinks it over.
“Alluring,” he states with a smirk.
Rolling my eyes, I chuckle. “Obviously.”
“Mysterious.”
“Definitely that.” Despite spending so much time together, and the numerous conversation we’ve had, I still feel like I scarcely know Conor. He always evades the topic when I mention his family, and he doesn’t like to discuss his work when he’s at home.
“Hmm.” His lips thin as he contemplates the final word.
“Dangerous?” I provide, searching his face for a reaction.
“You think I’m dangerous, babe?” He laughs as he draws me into his side, his gorgeous grin distracting me from my thoughts.
Oh yeah, he’s definitely dangerous. Dangerous to my heart.
CHAPTER SIX
“I have to go to a function tonight, so I’ll be late home,” Conor informs me. I called him while I was on my break, and I’m currently sitting on an upturned bucket in the tiny supply cupboard while I pick at my lunch, wanting some privacy while we chat.
Things have been tense between us since I came back to work. Conor is struggling with the difference between our working hours, resulting in more than one argument recently. As such, I’ve been making an effort to talk to him during my breaks.
“My shift finishes at six, if you want me to go with you,” I offer.
“No, that’s okay. It’s not your thing, and I’ll have to spend the whole night ingratiating myself with people. I won’t be able to give you the attention you deserve.”
My brows furrow, so many things about what he said bugging me. How does he know it’s not my thing? I mean, it probably isn’t, but still. Besides, even if it’s not my thing, I’d go to support him. Plus, I don’t need him to give me constant attention. I’m capable of conversing with others and standing on the sidelines while he does his thing.
Is he… embarrassed by me? Is that why he doesn’t want me to go?
“If you’re sure,” I say in a choked voice.
“I am. I’ll aim to get away as soon as possible, but even if I can’t, I’ll wake you up with my tongue when I get home.”
My cheeks burn as I smile to myself, shoving my negative thoughts aside. I’m searching for problems because everything has seemed too good to be true.
We hang up a little while later, and I head back to finish the rest of my shift. True to his word, Conor wakes me up when he gets home with his tongue between my thighs and an orgasm on my lips.
I’m dead on my feet as I step out of the elevator and tap the key card against the door. I was working the long shift, and it was non-stop all day. All I want to do is climb into bed and pass out.
The apartment is dark when I step inside. It’s nearly midnight, so I’m not surprised that Conor has gone to bed. When I retrieved my phone from my locker at the end of my shift, I noticed I had several missed calls from him, but he didn’t answer when I rang, so I figured he’d already fallen asleep.
