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Connor surges up off his knees and draws me up the bed so that my head is resting on a pillow. He practically tears off his clothing and joins me on the bed, hovering over me on his hands and knees, caging me in as he leans down and kisses me. I taste myself on his lips, warm and salty, and it’s arousing as hell.
Without a word, he nudges my legs open and kneels between them, resting on his haunches. He always did like having a good view to what he was doing.
He leans over me and snatches a condom off the nightstand, rips open the packet, and rolls the sheath up the length of his erection. Kissing me once more, his breath hot and heavy, he reaches between us to grip his cock and guide himself to my opening.
The feel of him pressing into me, the heat and the pressure, followed by the soft give of my body—it’s exquisite. Both of us are holding our breath as he slowly sinks into me. I gasp as he fills me so perfectly.
Smiling, he lowers his mouth to mine and kisses me gently. “Missed you,” he murmurs, a wealth of emotion buried in those two little words.
My heart contracts painfully. “Missed you, too.”
Once he’s fully seated, he closes his eyes and starts to move, slowly at first, then faster, building momentum. I relish the feel of him inside me. I revel in his strength and drive and passion. I have missed this terribly.
He braces himself above me, his arm muscles taut as he holds his weight off me. Soon, those arms start shaking as he nears his orgasm. With a hoarse cry, he stiffens and arches his back. He thrusts hard one last time, holding himself deep inside me as pleasure surges through him.
After his climax, he rolls off me and sits at the side of the bed so he can remove the condom. He disappears into the bathroom, where I hear the water running. A few minutes later, he returns with a warm, wet washcloth for me.
Finally, he joins me in bed and pulls me into his arms. He kisses my forehead tenderly before he trails kisses down my cheek to my lips. “I love you, Kennedy. I never stopped. Not for a second.”
My throat tightens painfully, and I feel the sting of tears forming. “I’m sorry, Connor. I never wanted to hurt you. I was trying to protect you.”
He tightens his arms around me. “Don’t need protecting,” he murmurs. Then he yawns. “Just need you.”
I smile as I turn over, my back pressed to his chest. His arm tightens around my waist as he spoons me. We lie like that, quietly enjoying each other’s nearness. Gradually, his breath evens out as he drifts off to sleep.
I lie awake for what feels like hours, reliving every second, every word, every touch. I stroke his arm, tracing the line of a thick vein with the tip of my index finger.
I’m so sorry, baby.
Eventually I doze off, asleep in his arms where I belong.
* * *
I sleep soundly through the night and am awakened early by the sound of birds chirping outside Connor’s bedroom window. I watch as the early dawn sunlight filters through the curtains.
A nagging bladder urges me to slip out of bed and into the bathroom. After peeing, I realize I’m thirsty, so I sneak into the kitchen to get a glass of water before returning to bed. I hope we have at least a couple of hours of cuddle time before we have to get up and start our day.
Honestly, I’d love to stay in bed all morning with Connor. Our return flight doesn’t leave until two o’clock so we have all morning to relax and visit with our friends. We don’t have to be at the airport until noon. I don’t want to think about what happens after that—after our return flight to New York. I suppose Connor will return to London as scheduled. I can’t bear the thought of watching him leave, not knowing if or when I’ll see him again.
Once in the kitchen, I grab a glass and turn on the tap to fill it. As I’m downing the cold water, I hear a phone chime with an incoming text message.
I spot my phone lying face down on the breakfast bar and pick it up to glance at the screen. It takes me a moment to realize what I’m looking at. First of all, it’s not my phone. It’s Connor’s. And I’m seeing the preview of a text message from his great aunt Angelica—his grandfather’s sister. That awful woman who gave me the cold shoulder at his grandfather’s birthday party.
I can only see the first few lines of the text, but it’s enough.
Angelica Murphy: I heard you’ve gone to America to see Will Carmichael. Tell me you are not seeing that woman. If that gold-digger gets wind of you being there, she’ll—
That’s all I can see from the preview. I’m tempted to try unlocking Connor’s phone so I can read the rest of the message. His passcode was always my birthday, month and day. If he hasn’t changed it, I can get into his phone. But I won’t do it. I won’t invade his privacy. Besides, I’ve seen enough. Apparently, nothing’s changed where his family is concerned.
The memory of his grandfather’s words come rushing back.
I dump the rest of my water down the sink and set the glass on the counter. My stomach is roiling now, and I feel light-headed. I have to sit down at the breakfast counter before I fall down.
I was an idiot to think our troubles were miraculously over. Obviously, his grandfather wasn’t the only one in his family who wanted nothing to do with me.
My vision blurs as tears pool in my eyes. My chest aches, and I feel devastated all over again.
Nothing’s changed.
