Page 15 of It Had To Be You

His smile faded a little but his attention remained fixed on me. “Well, I suppose the main reason isn’t so easy to explain, but I’ll try.” He drew a deep breath, looked out the window a moment then glanced back at me. “You probably already know that growing up in the Villas wasn’t easy for me. I was the only kid in our block with a father who wasn’t white, which obviously made me stand out. I was bullied sometimes, mostly casually racist remarks, but I could deal with those. The main thing was a feeling of being an outsider, people disregarding or not counting me because I was different. But you didn’t disregard me. You always treated everyone the same, no matter who they were or what they looked like. And you had such a gorgeous smile, Yvonne, a smile full of kindness that was so out of place in the Villas. When you smiled at me I was done for. You were the most beautiful person I’d ever seen, not just in appearance but in your soul. Your kindness was like a beaming ray of sunlight in that place. Every time you spoke to me it made my day that little bit better because your interest was genuine. You didn’t pretend to be listening like a lot of people, you actually paid attention.”

I could barely breathe as he spoke, because no one had ever described me like Conor just had. His words painted a picture of me I’d never seen, not truly. I knew I’d been nice to him, and he was right, I was nice to most people, but I couldn’t have imagined the impression I’d made on him. Emotion thickened my throat. It was hard to know how to reply to a speech like that.

Finally, I managed, “You were a great kid. I’m sorry people were horrible to you. You didn’t deserve that, no one does.” A quiet fell between us before I went on, “My mother used to always say to me and my sister that we weren’t better than anybody, but nobody was better than us either. We were all just people trying to forge a life. It was advice that stuck with me.”

“It’s not just that though,” Conor argued. “It’s who you are as a person. You’re intrinsically good and kind by nature and I’ve always been drawn to you for that reason.” His smile returned when he finished, “It also doesn’t hurt that you’re beautiful and sexy as fuck.”

I inhaled sharply, again nervously tucking hair behind my ear. I could barely meet his gaze. “Conor,” I whispered.

“I won’t apologise for finding you attractive, Yvonne. Although I am sorry if I’ve embarrassed you. I can’t help being honest sometimes, even to my detriment.”

“No need to apologise.” I lifted my gaze and mustered a smile. “It’s nice to know I’ve still got it.”

Conor gave a low, fond chuckle. “Oh, you definitely do.” An almost pained look crossed his face. “Yep, no denying that.”

I grinned and leaned in to eat some more soup. “Thanks for the compliment then, I guess.”

We finished our food, and I began tidying everything away. All the while I couldn’t stop thinking of the way Conor looked at me, how he spoke about me. It made me want to cast aside my reservations, climb across his desk and straddle him. There was a buzz under my skin, a desire I couldn’t seem to stem, because I found Conor just as attractive as he claimed to find me.

Glancing at the time, I decided I should be getting back to the club. I was going to splurge on a taxi since my feet were still too sore to walk. Reaching down, I absentmindedly kneaded the arch of my foot where it continued to ache. Kneading it soothed some of the soreness but not nearly enough to warrant walking back toFESTin my heels.

Conor’s attention lowered to the floor. “Are you okay? Did they blister?”

“I don’t think so. They’re just sore. Nothing a half an hour in my foot spa won’t cure,” I replied, trying to sound breezy because there was something in his eyes that made my chest flutter.

I wasn’t sure what he intended when he rose from his chair and went to sit on the small leather couch by the far wall.

“Come over here,” he said, voice low and I blinked, unsure I’d heard him correctly.

“Pardon?”

The gold flecks in his eyes practically smouldered. “Just come, Yvonne. Let me give you a foot rub.”

My hand went to my neck, my pulse pounding in my ears. “Conor, there’s no need—”

“Nothing funny, I promise. You walked all this way and I feel terrible. I should’ve offered to pay for a cab.” His low, urgent plea did something strange to me. The desire I felt for him continued its persistent hum and I found myself rising from my seat and approaching him. His throat flickered when I neared while a voice screamed in my head,Don’t go to that couch! Abort! Abort!

I ignored the voice and lowered onto the other side of the couch, heart thrumming, while Conor motioned for me to set my feet on his lap. His large, warm hand smoothed over my ankle and tingles skittered all the way down my leg. He noticed I was wearing tights, plucking gently at the material.

“Can we take these off or…?”

My eyes practically bugged out of their sockets. “What?No. Definitely not.” My brain was screaming at me to get up and leave but every other part refused to move a single muscle.

Conor gave a low, husky chuckle at my panic and I suspected he found my fluster endearing. I couldn’t get my head around the dynamic between us. I was the older, more experienced one, yet there was something about his masculine confidence that made me feel like he was the one in charge. It certainly seemed that way when he sat back, looking comfortable and at ease while he continued to stroke my ankle, his thumb moving back and forth in a mesmerising rhythm. His look was sultry.

“Let’s take them off,” he cajoled, his voice full of enticement. I sucked in a sharp gasp when he reached forward and I had to swipe his hands away.

“Conor!” I protested.

“Yvonne,” he retorted with a charming smile, like my name alone was some kind of counter argument.

His eyes never left mine as I scrambled to find my few remaining brain cells and resist the arousal building between my thighs. I mean, first he gives that heartfelt speech about why he liked me and now he was acting all seductive. Everything about him plucked at my resistance.

“You said nothing funny.”

Again, he smouldered. Then a smirk tugged at his lips. “It won’t be funny, I promise.”

I started to pull my foot away. “I should go.” He tightened his grasp and a swirl of desire flooded my stomach. Why was that so sexy?

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